Page 40 of Hawkeye

Tippon had run, but the bastard had underestimated my woman and left us a map of every road he had tried to hide.

17

JOSIE

The pattern was starting to take shape right in front of my eyes. Cipher had the ledger copies on one screen and the list of confirmed thefts already documented by the auction house on the other.

“I’m not sure about every abbreviation here, but this column is the job number.” I pointed at the left side of the ledger image. “Same format as the ones on our source sheets.”

Cipher leaned closer to the screen, his eyes narrowing. “All of the lots you’ve identified as stolen have the same mark next to the job number.”

“Could be how they noted which homes should be targeted because they’d be empty long enough to break in,” Calder suggested.

Cipher nodded. “Makes sense.”

“Those four-digit entries could be dates.” I checked the listing that included the shadow box I was working on for Maren. “Yup, that’s the same day on the robbery report.”

“So are these two,” Cipher added. “And all three entries are marked as complete.”

“Because they stole the items and successfully consigned them,” I muttered.

Calder wrapped his hand around the back of my neck. “They were counting on nobody catching on, but you threw a wrench in their plans because you’re too damn good at your job to miss shit like this.”

As I glared at the screen with the ledger, a date jumped out at me. “Wait, that’s tomorrow.”

“Fucking hell,” Calder growled.

Cipher shook his head. “Shit, found another one that's in a few days.”

I twisted around to look up at Calder. “These aren’t lots they’ve already taken.”

“They’re targets,” he confirmed what I had just realized.

“Hold on.” Cipher did a quick online check of obituaries and found one that closely matched the future entry I spotted. “There’s a memorial tomorrow evening for a decorated local veteran.”

“Webber.” I read from the screen before closing my eyes while I tried to figure out why the name sounded so familiar. “Can you search in Wynnock’s older files? I think one of the appraisers mentioned a revolver they provided a fair market value for insurance purposes a few years back.”

Cipher’s fingers tapped against his keyboard. “Found it.”

“That’s it.” I jumped out of my seat when he pulled up the documentation for the Colt Walker .44, with clear provenance to a Texas Ranger, in good condition. “We were talking about high-value items, and he had estimated the value of the revolver at a quarter of a million dollars because only around a thousand had been made back in 1847.”

Calder let out a low whistle. “Which gives Chet two-hundred-fifty thousand reasons to go after it tomorrow night.”

With perfect timing, Stryker walked in, and we updated him on what we found.

“Let me see if I can reach the widow through the veterans’ organization since they’re providing the color guard for the service.” The Black Crowns prez pulled out his phone and made a couple of calls before he got her on the line. “Mrs. Webber. Stryker from Black Castle Security. I’m sorry for your loss.”

He switched to speaker mode so we could hear her side of the conversation. “Thank you. Did you know my husband?”

“Unfortunately, no. But my company is assisting Wynnock Auctioneers with a series of thefts of military memorabilia during memorial services. We have reason to believe someone plans to use your absence tomorrow to break into your house.”

“I don’t even know what to say to that.” She sniffled. “Except there’s no way I’m missing my husband’s service. I meant it when I promised him in sickness and in health, until death do us part thirty years ago. We stayed together through five deployments, three children, and six grandchildren. I was there to see him laid to rest yesterday. And I’ll be at the memorial where his years of service to this country are honored.”

Her response made me even angrier. The last thing she should be worried about while grieving her husband was the safety of her home.

“I would never ask you to miss it,” Stryker assured her. “But I’d like you to let us be there when you leave.”

“That’s fine,” she agreed. “Just don’t let my children know what’s happening or else my son will insist on staying behind to protect his father’s prized possessions, just like his dad would’ve wanted to do.”