Steve hit Jim on the arm. “We got something. Ballistics came back an hour ago. The gun was used in the murder of a Russian prostitute three years ago.”
Jim scowled. This entire case was becoming far more complicated than he would have liked. “Why would the Russians go after Hart?”
“He was a prosecutor. Maybe he pissed off someone. The D.A.’s office is helping us pull his cases—it might speed things up if we pull only cases with a Russian connection.”
Jim considered the option. “Let’s prioritize that angle, but grab all his cases. Do you want me to reach out to the D.A. tomorrow?”
“I’ve been working with the D.A.’s head clerk, I can do it.” He grinned. “Her name is Zoey. She’s hot. Have you met her?”
“Don’t think so. Ask her out.”
Steve snorted. “She’s outta my league. Smart and sexy with a stick up her ass. But damn, she’s hot.”
“So what, she might say no? You tried. Besides, didn’t your last girlfriend call you a stud muffin?” Jim grinned and Steve hit him in the arm.
“Don’t start with me.” Steve leaned back in his chair. “So, what do you think of Alex’s theory?” Steve asked.
Jim rubbed his face. “Alex is smart, so I’ve given Eric Huang a solid look. But there’s nothing. Nada. Zilch. He’s thirty, never married, worked in the Capitol since he graduated from college, no arrests, no misdemeanors, one parking ticket that he paid promptly. Doesn’t live above his means, everyone seems to like him. He was jittery when I spoke to him, but I think he was nervous about the shooting.”
Jim glanced at the ballistics report. Definite match to the shooting three years ago. The lead detective on that case was John Black. They’d had no suspects, no evidence, nothing to go on with the hooker. Dead end. Maybe Jim would close both cases as soon as the shooter turned up. With the high-profile attempted assassination of a state elected official, the guy would turn up sooner or later.
Steve said, “Alex seemed pretty adamant.”
“She gets an idea and runs with it, sometimes blindly. After I interviewed Hart, I went back to the lobby and inspected the landing on the second floor. The flowers were only partially blocking the shooter. He could have been waiting for Hart to step forward, but when Alex acted quickly, he fired hoping to hit Hart . Or he was startled.”
“A good sniper isn’t going to be startled.”
“No,” Jim concurred, “but a good sniper isn’t going to let some flowers interfere with his target. The first bullet went between Hart and Huang—they were standing only a foot apart, and from the trajectory, the analysis is inconclusive. Most likely, Hart was the target but when Alex jumped in the way it shifted everyone slightly and the shooter was already prepared to fire. And Alex was shot with the second round, as she was pushing Hart down, which suggests that the bullet was meant for him.”
“Sounds plausible,” Steve said. “And he could have been a street thug. The Russian gangs are violent, but they’re not necessarily training their gunmen.”
“Exactly. So you agree?”
“That Hart was the target? Yeah. Though I think we should talk to Huang again, after his nerves are settled.”
“I’ll talk to him tomorrow—I have to see Hart again anyway.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“Actually, I was hoping you could follow-up with Alex.”
“Why?”
Why indeed. He shouldn’t have to explain it to Steve. “It was—awkward today.”
“Right. Sorry, buddy.”
He shrugged. It was part of the job, a part he didn’t particularly like, but there you were. “I think she’ll be more comfortable talking to you. Have her review her statement, make any changes, sign it—ask if she remembers anything else. You know the drill.”
“Sure.” Steve took the file off Jim’s desk, flipped through it. “Is she okay?”
“I called the hospital. They said she was released late this afternoon. Wouldn’t tell me anything else.”
“Then she’s fine.”
“Steve—why do you think Alex was really at the hotel?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know—job interview? Really?”
Steve shrugged. “I talked to the manager myself. She had an interview this morning.”
“She’s not hotel security.”
“You know how this place is,” Steve said quietly. “I get that she had to do what she did, but there should have been a better way.”
“She wasn’t talking to me back then.” And that’s what really bothered Jim. Before Alex had taken down that idiot Tommy Cordell, she’d closed him out. He’d pushed hard—accused her of things he knew weren’t true—to get her to be honest with him. And she clammed up. It upset and angered him. Still did.
“Alex was a good cop. You’d think that with her dad she’d get a job in any jurisdiction.”
“Then you don’t know Alex,” Jim said. “She’d never take help from her father, especially for a job. Look, I’ll call you after I talk to Hart tomorrow then we’ll compare notes. Get out of here, one of us needs his beauty sleep.”