The Edge

Had the killer marched her to the edge of the bluff, made Silkwell turn around, and shot her? Like a firing squad? That seemed highly unlikely.

But Jenny had been found on the boulders at the spot indicated. Many people had helped get her up from that spot. They could not all have been in on some grand conspiracy.

So it seemed reasonable to conclude that Silkwell had been killed elsewhere, and her body had been transported and then placed on the rocks where Palmer found her.

The Norma casing could easily have been dropped where it was found to give off the appearance of a long-range sniper shot. Which would have also bolstered the argument that Silkwell’s death was tied to her career at CIA and not the act of a local person from Putnam.

But what if she had been killed by someone here and it had been made to look like something else? Who had the motive? And the resources to pull it off?

Unfinished business. That was what Clare Robards had said her daughter had told her was the reason for Jenny visiting her old hometown.

So what was the unfinished business, Jenny? And did it get you killed?

Devine moved his chair back over to the desk and looked out the window right as the rain stopped and sun broke through the clouds and shone down on Maine once more.

The light played over the metal roof of the inn and sparkled off the windows.

It made for a good feeling, he thought, like when you saw a hummingbird hovering over a flower. Some warmth and sun always buoyed the human spirit.

As he glanced farther down the path he saw what looked to be a starburst resting just above a bush, a flash of light as the sunbeams encountered a reflective surface. It was fairly dazzling, to those of the casual observer variety, of which Travis Devine was not a member and never would be.

He dove sideways a split second before the window glass of his cottage exploded as the bullet powered through it, lodging into the far wall instead of Devine’s head.

He pulled his gun and edged next to the shattered window. He heard what sounded like footsteps running away. He got to the door and did a turkey peek, and when he saw no one he jumped out, did a roll, and came up in a kneeling firing position. He heard a vehicle start up. By the time he got to the street, he could see nothing or no one in either direction. He hurried back to the spot where he’d seen the flash of light coming off the rifle scope. He stooped and ran his fingers through the grass. They stopped when he felt it. He saw the special marking on the head stamp of the casing.

It isn’t a .300 Norma. It’s a NATO round.

What the hell is going on?

Chapter 22

“You say you didn’t see anyone?” asked Chief Harper.

He and Devine were outside the latter’s cottage looking at the large hole in the center of the window.

“No, just the reflection off the scope,” said Devine. “If I hadn’t looked out the window and the sun hadn’t just come out, we would not be having this conversation, and your ME would be cutting me up to get the bullet out.”

“Glad it didn’t come to that,” said Harper as he held up the bagged shell casing.

Devine pointed to it. “It has a cross-in-a-circle stamping. That means it meets NATO specs. But the caliber was also stamped on it, which means it’s a civilian and not a military round.”

“Okay, that narrows things, but only a little.”

“I heard someone running. And then a vehicle started up. By the time I got to the street, it was gone.”

A breathless Fuss hurried up to them. “Did a quick canvass of the area. Nobody saw anybody with a gun, but Joe Martin was coming out of the hardware store and saw a van getting out of here right quick, about the time Devine said the shot was fired.”

“Did he get the plate?” asked Devine.

Fuss shook her head. “No, I mean he had no reason to. He didn’t know anything had happened.”

Devine sighed and looked around. Someone takes a shot at me in broad daylight and no one sees anything?

Fuss seemed to be reading his mind. “Pat Kingman was out running errands and you’re the only cottage rented. This is not the high season. And this time of day the downtown area is pretty dead.”

Like I almost was, thought Devine.

“Well, let’s get the bullet out of the wall. Hopefully we’ll find the rifle to match it to.”

“Even though it’s a different caliber, you think it might be from the same weapon that killed Jenny?” asked Harper.

“The rounds chamber different pressure settings and though they look identical, the thickness of the brass and the head space are different. Some might disagree, but I wouldn’t fire a .300 or .308 round in a rifle chambered for NATO ordnance unless it was specifically chambered for both. It might blow up in your face, or the ejector might jam because the casing stretched too much.”