Page 113 of Booked for Murder

“The first operation was sixteen hours, and the second took ten. There were three surgeons for the first operation, but she says it was delicate, fiddly work and they wanted to get it right the first time. She oversaw the mending portion of both operations, so the second half of them was easier on her, but she did the majority of the work.”

Oh. Huh. “I really need to send her flowers, chocolates, and several cards, then. And a lot of money.”

“Senator Maybelle’s campaign offered to pay your medical bills,” Bradley’s mother announced.

“Wait. Senator Maybelle’s family wanted to press charges, but her campaign wants to do what?”

“Pay your medical bills. They are paying the medical bills for the other victims as well, although your bills are substantially larger. The original donors to the campaign submitted requests that their contributions be used to pay those expenses. The campaign announced how those contributions would be used, and the original donors were kept anonymous. Anything excess will be donated to a children’s hospital. It is the rare good deed without any strings attached. They could, so they did. I reviewed the contribution paperwork, and Senator Maybelle’s family gave their blessing as well. Your full hospitalization bill is being paid, and they’re discussing the situation with Dr. Mansfield. They’ll be paying your full physical therapy bill as well. The nature of your foot’s original injury was disclosed, but to my surprise, that impressed the campaign even more, as it is evidence that you’re not a one-off heroine.”

My face heated. “I’m not a heroine.”

“You absolutely are,” she replied. “You saved my baby boy, and you saved that woman, too. You have saved how many lives in the hospital volunteering? Just accept that’s what you are. You can be humble later.”

“Mom, don’t embarrass her,” Bradley scolded.

“I’m not embarrassing her. I’m telling her the truth, and there’s nothing embarrassing about being a good person who saves lives. Anyway, your hospital bills are all being paid, Senator Maybelle’s campaign kept your name out of the papers as much as possible, and I’ll be honest, I’m really, really surprised at how the campaign management has handled this. I mean, her death rocked them, but they have worked hard to do everything they can to support the rally attendants. They’re creating a program for attendees for therapy as needed.”

“That is not what I expected to hear,” I admitted.

“I don’t think anybody expected to hear that. Now that you’re somewhat coherent, let’s get this laid out so we can figure out where we can start with our own investigation. There was nothing we could have done to stop this, but if we can stop the next killing, we will. This attack has confirmed that these killers have no scruples; they don’t care who they hurt as long as they take down their mark. They wanted this killing to be a public event. The government can’t dodge registering this one as a terrorist attack, either. The good news is that Mickey has been cleared.”

Mickey nodded. “With all the evidence I’ve provided clearing me, they had no choice but to strike me from the suspect list. I haven’t been able to breathe without an investigator poking their nose into my business. I won’t miss that part of things, but they’ve lost their easy scapegoat—and they can’t nail Janette as the exsanguinator. Nobody can work magic after being shot like that, and every expert on magic usage has agreed she began working with the main gunshot victim in the expected range for recovering from the shock of being shot. So, they have nothing on any of us at this point. But without an easy scapegoat, we have no idea what the police will do now.”

My father snorted. “The only people who have any idea what’s going on are the killers, and we’re just puppets in their game for the moment.”

I wondered how we could change that, and I cut my chicken breast, made sure I drowned it in my orange sauce, and savored my first bite. Fire had nothing on the sauce, and unless I was careful, I’d be in dire need of a glass of milk to handle the burn. Perfect. I huffed my satisfaction. “Have we learned anything of substance?”

“Yes.” Bradley reached down and grabbed a tablet from beside his chair. “The recordings we have confirm the method they’re using; they have at least five people in on the job, and they’re used to working together. They botched this specific job, likely from the shooter pulling the trigger a little too early. I suspect an opening came up and he took the shot, leaving the rest of the team to scramble. The acoustics were screwed up; some of the rounds were masked but not all of them. The exsanguinator likewise botched the job, as only some of the job was covered after the illusionist worked. The illusionist left a short gap in his work before the mender did their work. The mender is the issue.”

“Why is the mender the issue?”

“Most menders have to be within ten feet to work that sort of magic, regardless of the speed of the recreation of bone, skin, and muscle. There was no one in the ten feet area who could do the work.”

“Illusionist,” I muttered.

Mickey nodded. “That’s what we’re thinking, which means we’re dealing with either two illusionists or one who has at least a 95.0% aptitude rating. That significantly limits the pool of who could have done it. I have a list, and there are four names on it. One of the names on the list is on the wanted list for several counts of murder, another has a rather lengthy rap sheet involving domestic violence charges, and the other two had rather lucrative careers as bank robbers before being arrested. One has escaped prison, but the other is still being held in maximum security. The domestic violence asshole lives in San Diego, and he was paid a visit by the police three hours after the shooting, and his identity was verified through magical means.”

“Magical means?”

“He was stripped of magic and run through the aptitude test to confirm it was him.”

I grimaced. A magical stripping involved several skilled adepts tearing away any magical influences from someone before applying disruptors and beginning the aptitude testing process from a clean slate. The method of testing was limited to those with a conviction of a violent crime, particularly targeting illusionists due to their ability to mask who they were with magic. “Unpleasant.”

“The FBI wanted to take no chances, and it confirmed he could not have committed the crime. He is wearing a disruptor due to his past conviction, and it won’t come off for another few months,” Mickey reported.

“How’d you find that out?”

He pointed at Beatrice, who shrugged and said, “The conviction and the punishment are available as public records, and the FBI and media are jumping all over this case. It’s like the killers want to undermine the police’s efforts in the investigation in a way; they have offered just enough evidence to clear the scapegoats. Us, that is. Well, most of you, but especially Mickey.”

Bradley’s father leaned back in chair and sighed. “Ethical terrorists and assassins, great. Just what we needed. Do you know what they call those in my field? Absolute fucking nightmares. The good ones know how to plant just enough evidence to make a mess of things, they can bypass most security, and they’re confident of success—but not so confident of success they get sloppy. It’s a very dangerous combination. The only good news is that this property is as safe as I can make it. I’ll be installing security systems in all of your homes. It could have been a coincidence Janette was there at both murders, but I’m concerned she might be a target. If they hadn’t hit her, she would have been a prime suspect.”

My mother scowled and stabbed a piece of her roast, biting on it with startling ferocity. Once she chewed it into submission, she grumbled, “Unless they shot her specifically so she would be eliminated as a prime suspect.”

“But they shot her foot,” Beatrice protested.

Meridian cut her roast beef into several pieces and moved them around on her plate, and I recognized roughly how all of the victims, myself included, had been positioned at the rally. Mashed potatoes served as my wheel chair, and I got a piece of carrot for a cast. “Okay, look here. Let’s assume for whatever reason they wanted Janette cleared of the crime. She was shot first, so the shooter went for the biggest immobile target. While Janette’s upper body was in motion while she talked to Senator Maybelle, she was careful to keep her foot still. Assuming the shooter has skill, it’s not much of an adjustment to move from the foot to the senator’s head. If anything, the upward recoil would have made it easier to reset the aim for the senator’s head.”

“Was I shot first?” I asked, my brows furrowing as I struggled to remember. “No. I was shot second. Senator Maybelle was definitely shot first.”