‘I wasn’t followed.’
‘Yeah. You were. Only not visually. We found small GPS transmitters attached to the undercarriage of both your car and the woman’s car. All the shooter had to do was look at his screen to know precisely where you were and where to go for a clear shot.’
McCabe was annoyed with himself. He should have considered the possibility and checked out the Bird before he left Portland.
‘We traced the line of fire and pretty much pinpointed where he positioned himself for the kill. A little rise just off the road about five hundred yards in front of you. Looks like he used a post-and-rail fence as a firing platform.’
‘Any shell casings?’
‘No. He only fired once, and he must have policed the brass before he left.’
‘What else?’
‘Well, we won’t know about prints till we can flatbed his SUV back to Middle Street and check, but given he left the car in a hurry, my guess is we’ll find something, maybe quite a lot. Oh, here’s a weird one. There are fresh semen stains on the driver’s seat and on the floor under the seat.’
‘The guy jerked off?’
‘Apparently. I doubt he had another consenting adult with him.’
‘Interesting. I guess he finds shooting people stimulating.’
Jacobi didn’t respond. Instead McCabe heard some indecipherable chatter. In the background he could hear a siren. Then Bill Fortier’s voice talking to Jacobi. Then Fortier’s voice on the phone. ‘McCabe, get your ass up here. We’ve had another killing.’
‘Just a minute.’ McCabe got up and shut the door to the waiting room and put the cell on speaker. ‘Okay. Maggie’s here. What happened?’
Fortier’s voice filled the small space.
‘A high school kid named Ryan Corbin. Seventeen years old. Body was found in a culvert at the side of the road. Shot point-blank through the head.’
McCabe grimaced and wondered if he made the right choice not chasing the shooter across the field. He believed he had. Otherwise Sophie would have died for sure, he probably would have been shot, and the kid might have gotten killed anyway. ‘Hold on a sec,’ he told Fortier. ‘Mag, get some uniforms up here to watch over Sophie. Make sure it’s people we know, experienced people and not some rookie. Tell them to make sure nobody, especially Dr. Philip Spencer, goes anywhere near her. We’ve got to get up to Gray.’
Maggie took out her own cell.
McCabe turned off the speakerphone. ‘Where’d you find the body?’
‘Sheriff’s deputy found it about a mile and a half from where we found your car and the SUV. I’m headed there now. Come up to where you were. Follow Bucks Mill about a mile, then take a right on Taylorville Road. Go for about a mile and you’ll see a whole shitload of flashing lights. State’s saying this one’s MSP jurisdiction. We’re saying it’s an extension of the Dubois case so we’re still primary. Anyway, we’ll work it out with Matthews. By the way, your car’s being impounded as evidence. So’s the shotgun. Get yourself a rental. We’ll pay for it.’
McCabe took the overnight bag into the bathroom and changed into the clothes Maggie had brought for him. Jeans. Black turtleneck. Beige windbreaker. Not exactly what he’d choose for a murder investigation, but fuck it. When he came out, two uniformed officers were already talking to Maggie. One was Kevin Comisky, whom he’d last seen leaving the scrap yard on Friday night. The other cop he’d seen a number of times at 109. He didn’t know his name.
McCabe skipped the pleasantries. ‘Detective Savage fill you in?’
They nodded. ‘Alright, let me reiterate. This woman is a key witness in the Dubois investigation, and her life is in danger. Someone’s already tried to kill her once. He’ll try again. I got a quick look at the bad guy from the rear. Shaved head. Big neck and shoulders. Maybe five-ten. Might be him coming for her. Might be somebody else.
‘She’s listed in this hospital as Jane Doe, and that’s the way it stays. When she comes out of surgery, you stick like glue. Walk with the gurney that takes her to her room and park yourselves outside the door. If one of you has to take a leak, the other stays put. When hospital personnel go into that room, doctors, nurses, anyone, you check their ID and then go in with them. Under no circumstances does a Dr. Philip Spencer go anywhere near her.’
‘If it’s Spencer, how do we stop him?’
‘Just tell him it’s orders, you have no choice – and don’t take any shit. He’s an arrogant bastard, and he’ll try to bully you. Clear?’
‘Clear,’ they said practically in unison.
‘Hospital security knows you’re here, and they’ll back you up. If anyone gives you a hard time, call me on my cell.’ He wrote down the number and handed it to Comisky. ‘Let me have your cell number.’
‘It’s 555-6655.’
‘Thanks. If any cops show up to relieve you, even if you know them, send ’em home. You’re on duty here until I personally relieve you.’
33
Wednesday. 4:30 A.M.