Riley heard a note of pride in Larsons voice the same pride shed often heard in her fathers voice when he talked about his military service.
She loves what she does, Riley thought.
She also had no doubt that Col. Larson was excellent at what she did.
Larson parked near a footpath that led through the camp. They got out of the car, and Larson led them to a spot on the path. It was in an open area, free of trees that might block a view.
Sergeant Rolsky was killed right here, Larson said. Nobody saw or heard it happen. We couldnt tell from the wound or the position of his body where the shot came from except that it must have been a considerable distance.
Riley looked all around her, studying the scene.
What time was Rolsky killed? she asked.
At about twenty-two hundred hours, Larson said.
Riley mentally converted that to civilian time 10:00 p.m.
She imagined what this place would look like at that time of night. There were a couple of lamps standing within thirty feet of the spot. Even so, the light here would have been pretty dim. The shooter must have used a night scope.
She turned slowly around, trying to guess where the shot came from.
There were buildings to the south and north. It was unlikely a sniper would have the opportunity to fire from within any of those places.
To the west, she could see across camp to the Pacific Ocean, faint in a hazy distance.
There were rough hills to the east.
Riley pointed to the hills and said, My guess is that the shooter positioned himself somewhere up there.
Thats a good guess, Larson said, pointing to another spot on the ground. We found the bullet right here, so that indicates the shot must have come from somewhere up in those hills. Judging from the wound, the shot was fired from between two hundred fifty and three hundred feet. Weve scoured the area, but he didnt leave any evidence behind.
Riley thought for a moment.
Then she asked Larson, Is hunting allowed on Fort Mowat grounds?
In season, with permits, Larson replied. Right now its wild turkey season. Shooting crows by day is also allowed.
Of course, Riley knew that these deaths were anything but hunting accidents. As the daughter of a man who had been both a Marine and a hunter, she knew that no one would use a sniper rifle to kill crows and turkeys and such. A shotgun was the more likely hunting weapon of choice around Fort Mowat at this time of year.
She asked Larson to take them to the next location. The colonel drove them up into some low hills at the edge of a hiking trail. When they all got out of their vehicle again, Larson pointed to the spot on a trail that wound its way uphill.
Sergeant Fraser was killed right here, she said. He was taking an after-hours hike. The shot seems to have been about the same distance as before. Again, no one heard or saw it happen. But our best guess is that he was killed at about twenty-three hundred hours.
Eleven oclock at night, Riley thought.
Pointing to another spot, Larson added, We found the bullet over here.
Riley then looked in the opposite direction, toward where the shooter must have been. She saw more scrubby hills and countless places where a shooter might have hidden. She was sure that Larson and her team had combed the area thoroughly.
Finally they drove down to the area where the recruits living quarters were. Larson took them behind one of the barracks. The first thing Riley saw was an enormous dark splotch on the wall near the back door.
Larson said, This is where Sergeant Worthing was killed. He seems to have come out here for a cigarette before his platoons morning formation. The shot was so clean that the cigarette never fell from his lips.
Rileys interest quickened. This scene was different from the others and much more informative. She examined the blotch and the smear that spread down below it.
She said, It looks like he was leaning against the wall when the bullet hit him. You must have been able to get a much better idea of the bullets trajectory than you could for the others.
Much better, Larson agreed. But not the precise location.
Larson pointed across the field behind the barracks to where hills began to rise.
The shooter must have positioned himself somewhere between those two valley oaks, she said. But he cleaned up very carefully afterward. We couldnt find a trace of him in any likely location.
Riley saw that the distance between the small trees was about twenty feet. Larson and her team had done good work narrowing the area down that much.
What kind of weather was it? Riley asked.
Very clear, Larson said. There was a three-quarter moon out almost until dawn.
Riley felt a tingle down her back. It was a familiar feeling that she got when she was about to really connect with a crime scene.
Id like to go out and have a look for myself, she said.
Certainly, Larson said. Ill take you there.
Riley didnt know how to tell her that she wanted to go by herself.
Fortunately, Bill spoke up for her.
Lets let Agent Paige go alone. Its kind of her thing.
Larson nodded appreciatively
Riley strode out across the field. With every step, that tingling grew stronger.
Finally, she found herself between the two trees. She could see why Larsons team hadnt been able to find the exact spot. The ground was highly irregular with lots of smaller bushes. Just in that area, there were at least a half dozen excellent places to squat or lie and fire a clean shot toward the barracks.
Riley began to walk back and forth between the trees. She knew that she wasnt looking for anything that the shooter might have left behind not even footprints. Larson and her team wouldnt have missed anything like that.
She took some slow breaths and imagined herself here in the very early hours in the morning. The stars were just starting to disappear, and the moon still cast shadows all around.
The feeling grew stronger by the second a sense of the killers presence.
Riley took a few more deep breaths and prepared to enter the killers mind.
CHAPTER TEN
Riley began to imagine the killer. What had he felt, thought, and observed when he came here looking for the perfect spot to shoot from? She wanted to become the killer, as nearly as she could, in order to track him down. And she could do that. It was her gift.
First, she knew, he had to find that spot.
She searched about, just as he must have searched.
As she moved around, she felt a mysterious, almost magnetic pull.
She was drawn to a red willow bush. To one side of the bush, there was a space between its branches and the ground. There was a slightly hollow place in the ground at that very spot.
Riley stooped down and looked carefully at the ground.
The soil in that hollow place was neat and smooth.
Too neat, Riley thought. Too smooth.
The rest of the soil in this area was rougher, more irregular.
Riley smiled.
The killer had gone to such lengths to tidy up after himself that hed betrayed his exact position.
Imagining the scene by moonlight, Riley gazed down the slope and across the field toward the back of the barracks.
She pictured what the killer saw from this place the distant figure of Sergeant Worthing stepping out of the back door.
Riley felt a smile form on the killers face.