Page 10 of Targeted at Christmas

“You’re right about that,” Cooper concurred. “But some choices we make can come at a very high price. This may have been one of those.”

Zapponi considered this silently and finished off the beer, before getting to his feet. “Have to go now.”

Cooper nodded. “I’ll give you a couple of minutes’ head start,” he told him, lessening the chance they might be seen together—in case one or both of the men who were involved in Eckhart’s murder were out to get anyone thought to be swept up in the public corruption probe as a possible witness.

“Okay.” Zapponi met his eyes. “I’m out of here.”

Cooper watched as the contractor—and former CI—darted off without looking back and out the door. Looks like I’ll have to carry on without Zapponi’s help, he told himself. Fortunately, the Bureau had more than enough ammunition to continue the investigation and achieve solid results—with or without Zapponi feeding him inside information.

After downing the rest of the water, Cooper stood and left the bar. By then, Zapponi had disappeared from sight. Now it’s time I did the same, Cooper thought, as he headed for his vehicle in the parking lot.

He drove to the field office and conferred with the special agent in charge about the decision to drop Neal Zapponi for the right reasons as his CI, while continuing to work the case of public corruption against the backdrop of his primary suspect’s death—Horace Eckhart.

Amelia was fully supportive in giving Cooper the room he wanted in pursuing leads wherever he could find them, with backup from other special agents as needed.

Cooper was happy that he had turned his attention away from Lexi De La Garza as a person of interest in the case. That being said, he was interested in the attractive architect on a more personal level—even if nothing was likely to ever materialize between them. Or was he looking at the glass half empty, rather than half full of potential?

En route to home, he stopped off at Shelly’s Kitchen, a seafood restaurant on West Bell Road, for takeout of grilled shrimp and coleslaw.

Soon Cooper arrived at his condominium on East Deer Valley Drive in North Phoenix. It was a two-bedroom, two-and-a-half-bath penthouse that he had purchased a year ago after finding he could no longer live in the contemporary house that he’d shared with his late wife in the Ahwatukee Foothills part of the city. The memories there were too difficult to be constantly reminded of her.

The smart-enabled condo had exposed brick walls and an open concept with a high ceiling, rustic ceiling fan, vinyl flooring and floor-to-ceiling windows with plantation shutters. A farmhouse kitchen had a quartz island and countertops, a breakfast bar, and a large pantry. There was a living room separate from the dining room that had rustic furnishings, and led onto a nice-sized balcony with a gas grill and wicker furnishings.

The spacious primary bedroom had an en suite bathroom and walk-in closet, while Cooper used the spare bedroom as a home office. He made his way into the kitchen, setting the food down on the counter before washing up. He got a bottle of red wine from the stainless-steel refrigerator, a plate, glass and silverware out, and put these and his dinner on a round wooden dining table.

Cooper sat on a ladder-back upholstered chair. He had grown accustomed to eating alone. It wasn’t his preference. Just the way things were since Melanie died, for the most part. Perhaps that would change someday.

Lexi De La Garza’s face popped into his head, for whatever reason. And in spite of the fact that he doubted their paths would cross again in the course of his investigation, as it had moved in a different direction.

Unless he could come up with another means for them to converge and connect.

Chapter Four

On Wednesday, Detective Hallie Flores sat at her desk, looking over the Maricopa County Medical Examiner’s Office autopsy report on her laptop regarding the dead building inspector Horace Eckhart. The findings indicated that Eckhart—who seemed to have been ambushed by his attackers—died as the result of two gunshot wounds to the head, causing massive damage and blood loss. The manner of the decedent’s death was ruled a homicide.

Hallie wrinkled her nose. Not that I was expecting a different conclusion, she thought, having seen firsthand what had happened to Eckhart, knowing that it was done with willful intent. Unfortunately, they were still trying to determine the identities of the two men believed to be responsible, while stealing the victim’s car almost just for effect. Who were they working for? Were they part of an auto theft ring? Working as a pair for an opportunistic, easy mark at a parking garage?

Or, as Special Agent Cooper Reid seemed to suspect, might Eckhart’s murder have something to do with his being investigated by the Feds for public corruption? She was keeping an open mind both ways.

Overall, Hallie was sure it was only a matter of time before they caught the culprits—and anyone else involved in the execution-style slaying of the building inspector.

She stood and headed over to the Phoenix Police Department’s Laboratory Services Bureau (Crime Lab) for a better read on the weapon used to kill Horace Eckhart—and whether or not it could be linked to any other crimes.

Hallie stepped inside the Crime Lab and made her way to the firearms section. She went to the station of laboratory technician Iisha Mínguez.

Iisha, who was thin and in her midtwenties, with a brunette shaggy haircut and hazel eyes, smiled and said, “Hey.”

“Hey.” Hallie flashed a soft grin, having sent her a text that she was on her way. “What do you have for me?”

Iisha sighed. “As you know, the bullets that killed Horace Eckhart came from a Korth 2.75-inch Carry Special .357 Magnum revolver. Well, we were able to match them positively with the recovered shell casings from the crime scene. Beyond that, the bullets themselves were fired from a gun barrel with five lands and grooves that had a right-hand twist.”

“I see.” Hallie took mental notes. “Were you able to determine if the gun had been used in any other local crimes? Or even in any other state, for that matter?”

Iisha twisted her lips. “We entered the ballistic evidence into the ATF’s National Integrated Ballistic Information Network, hoping for a hit—but didn’t get one yet.”

“Okay.” Hallie hadn’t held her breath that the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives automated ballistic imaging network would indicate that the shooter had used the gun before. In reality, there were way too many illegal firearms on the streets these days—giving offenders ample means to rotate weapons for use. Still, she feared that short of the unsubs discarding the Korth 2.75-inch Carry Special, they might well use it again. Possibly in relation to the murder of Horace Eckhart. Hallie regarded Iisha and said, “If anything changes, let me know.”

“I will,” she promised.