Spinnelli’s jaw clenched harder and Zoe could see a muscle twitching in his cheek. The Trib had struck a chord. That would be an interesting angle, she thought, the conflict of interest in this case. How many cops really wanted this vigilante caught?

And how scared were Mayhew’s lost cases likely to be right now? She thought about Mayhew’s most recent loss. Angelo Conti would be sure to have a response, especially if she caught him coming out of a bar. It wouldn’t be real news, but it would be great copy. And sometimes great copy created great news. What a deal.

Amid the mutters and flashes, Spinnelli said evenly, „We have assigned Detectives Reagan and Mitchell to this case. Both are experienced and well-qualified. They are backed up by the full resources of CPD. This case is staffed appropriately.“

John Alden rose to his feet. Spinnelli moved to one side to allow Alden to speak.

„Lieutenant Spinnelli and I are in full agreement on the staffing and plans for this investigation. We have no further comments at this time.“

Together the two men left the podium and Zoe had to admit they were both fine, fine specimens of pure American male, Spinnelli in his dress uniform, Alden in his expensive suit. But now was not the time for idle wandering.

She had a report to prepare before six o’clock. She hoped Angelo Conti was drunk.

Friday, February 20,

4:15 p.m.

The guy behind the glass counter was built like a Sherman tank, which was a good thing because under the glass was a most formidable display of firearms.

„Guy’s almost as well stocked as that Dorsey idiot,“ Mia muttered behind him and Abe chuckled. She was right. Unfortunately both the Dorsey idiot and his wife had rock-solid alibis for the nights King and Ramey disappeared and for the hours they believed their humble servant delivered his notes early Thursday morning.

The tank behind the counter narrowed his eyes. „Can I help you?“

Abe flashed his shield, Mia following suit. „I’m Detective Reagan and this is Detective Mitchell.“ The man’s eyes flickered in recognition, his mouth bent in a sneer.

„Only a matter of time,“ he declared bitterly.

„Why do you say that, sir?“ Mia asked.

„Some guy pops a few and suddenly the cops are crawling all over legitimate gun owners.“ He shook his head in disgust.

„Actually, we’re here to ask your help,“ Abe said and the man scoffed.

„Right. So what?“

Abe leaned his hip against the counter, lifted his shoulder in a shrug. „So, you obviously know why we’re here. We’re looking for the guy who popped a few and who’s getting ready to pop a few more. We picked your store because you host a marksmanship competition and we’re hoping you’ll cooperate and give us the list of entries without making us go to all the trouble of getting a warrant.“

The Sherman tank got smug. „Get a warrant.“

Abe sighed. „I was hoping you’d be reasonable.“

„He will be. Give the man the list, Ernie.“ A tiny old woman appeared from the back of the store, her arm in a sling. „I’m Diana Givens, the owner of this store. This is Ernie, my nephew. He’s been helping me run things while I was laid up.“ She extended her uninjured hand and Abe shook it. „I saw the press conference, Detective. I know who you are and why you’re here.“ She turned to Ernie. „Get the folder from the upright cabinet in the office. Now, Ernie,“ she snapped and Ernie did her bidding, slouching and muttering all the way. „Damn boy thinks he’s the next president of the NRA,“ Givens muttered. „I run a clean place here, Detectives. I obey gun sale laws and run all buyers through the system. I don’t think it does a damn to stop crime, but I obey the law. I’ll cooperate with you however I can.“

„Then maybe you can help us a little more,“ Mia said, staring at a display case on the wall. „You’ve got a great collection here. My dad’s a collector. He’s got a LeMat, mint.“

Diana Givens visibly softened, her eyes taking on a possessive light. „Mint?“

„Um-hmm.“

„If he wants to sell it, I’m interested.“

Mia turned with a half smile. „He’s leaving it to me someday. I don’t plan to part with it, but thanks. We’re looking for a marksman who hunts.“

The old woman stuck her tongue in her cheek. „That narrows it down, honey.“

Mia smiled. „I know. He likely hunts duck and deer. Do you keep track of ammo sales by customer? We’ll look for someone who buys both kinds.“

„You hunt?“ Diana Givens asked her.

Mia looked amused. „I have. Not a lot, but I know my way around the forest. Bagged a three-point buck once with my dad. Mom made venison stew for a month.“

„Why didn’t you say anything back at the morgue when Jack suggested hunters to Julia?“ Abe asked.

Mia grimaced. „Because I wanted Jack to have his moment in the sun in front of Julia. She barely notices his existence and he’s been practically tripping over his damn tongue for the last year.“ Mia leaned on the counter, eye to eye with the diminutive Givens. „Can we check your records, Miss Givens?“

Givens hesitated, then nodded. „I kind of hate to say yes, you know? Your boy took down some very bad players. I hate to see him stopped.“

„But we have to stop him, ma’am,“ Abe said quietly and Givens sighed heavily.

„I know. But I don’t have to dance a jig over it. Records are in the back.“

Friday, February 20,

4:30 p.m.

„The Myers girl is here with her father, Kristen.“

Kristen looked up from her paperwork. The headache from hell was brewing behind her eyes. Lois was looking over her shoulder toward the waiting area with a frown.

The Myers girl was her newest sexual assault case, the one where the father was insisting they press charges. All she needed to make this day perfect was to have that young girl break down in her office again. „I don’t suppose they’ll come back later.“

Lois snorted her displeasure. „No, I don’t suppose. Kristen, that dad makes me nervous. He’s twitchy. You want me to call Security?“

„Yeah. Just tell them to be ready. Tell Myers I’ll see them in five minutes. I want to finish this first.“ Hell, she just wanted to finish something today. Her phone had been ringing off the hook since the press conference, every reporter in town wanting a comment.

„Okay, Kristen. Oh, here.“ Lois dropped a thick stack of paper bound with a big black clip on her desk. „E-mails from all over. Some want information, most are rooting for him.“ She sighed. „Don’t leave by yourself tonight. Call Security to walk you down to your car. I’m going home soon. I have a headache.“

Join the club, Kristen thought, staring at the bound stack of paper. There wasn’t a news service that hadn’t picked up the story since the press conference this afternoon. They’d been on CNN every half hour, and even the Yahoo! home page had a photo of Spinnelli and Alden at the podium. She massaged her temples wearily.

She’d see Myers and then she’d go home. After all, who needed an overworked prosecutor when they had a humble servant? Maybe she should just let him mop up the cases she lost, she thought sarcastically. She could work fewer hours.

Hell, she might even take a vacation.

Her mouth twisted at the image of herself on a sandy beach in a bathing suit, sunglasses on her eyes and an unread book on her lap. Like she’d ever take a vacation. Alden was always urging her to take one, but the few times she’d asked he’d always found a reason she had to stay in the office. She’d covered for him enough times when he’d gone on vacation, she thought, resentment making her head throb harder. So she drew a deep breath and let her mind drift, trying to let the image of crashing waves and crying seagulls relax her. It’s what the therapists recommended. She ought to know, she’d seen it on late-night cable when she was refinishing the hardwood floor a few months back.