Everything stopped immediately when the bullet entered his brain. The point of entry made sure of that, even though the bullet itself would have ricocheted all over.
As they drove in silence, Laura tried to put herself in Sean Perrin’s position. He was sitting in his car somewhere between eight and eleven at night—their best estimate. Was he sitting there just enjoying the night, or was he meeting someone? And if he was meeting someone, who would that be?
“He must have heard them walking up to the car,” Laura said to Anthony. “Unless he was just closing his eyes and taking it all in, and they sneaked up on him. Right?”
“Yeah.”
“If he was meeting someone, what might he be meeting them for?”
“A lot of things. Maybe he was going for a moonlight hike. Maybe he was meeting someone to buy drugs. But maybe he was just hanging out enjoying the evening and someone just walked up and popped him.”
“What? For fun?”
He shrugged.
“Or it was a pro.”
“It sure looked like it. But these days, you can learn anything on the Internet. Where to kill someone, what the best weapon is. Seems to me everybody on God’s Green Earth knows that contract killers like a .22. After CSI and NCIS and all those shows you could ask the man on the street and he’d tell you all about how those small caliber bullets ricochet all over inside the skull.”
“And no shell casings.”
“Yeah, one shot, perfectly-placed. Easy to pick up. Or maybe go whole hog and use a revolver.”
“His eyes were closed.”
“You know with the shock, his eyes could have closed when he was hit.”
She said, “I think he was meeting someone.”
“Which means it was either someone followed him to Tucson, met him there or was waiting for him. Maybe he pissed off someone in Madera Canyon.”
“Could be.”
“Or there was bad blood with his sister.”
“Could be.”
“Yeah,” Anthony said. “We are inundated with ‘could-bes.’”
It was late at night by the time Anthony dropped her off in the DPS parking lot and she headed home. It had been a long drive, and she was tired. The trip to Winslow and Las Vegas was a wild goose chase. They’d thrown snake eyes.
Perrin had lied about everything, and it all amounted to nothing.
She aimed her car down the freeway in the direction of the Rincon Mountains. The moon was full, hanging in the sky over the black hump of mountain range. She turned onto Houghton Road, hit the dirt road leading to the few scattered houses in the foothills, and parked outside.
Matt came outside to greet her.
She was hot, tired, her back—which was long—ached, and she felt soiled and shopworn. But Matt pulled her into his arms and for a moment everything was forgotten. All the failures, all the near-misses, all the disappointment. She felt tears come to her eyes. She felt such gratitude she had this man to come home to.
So happy.
He didn’t care that she was dirty. He kissed her as if she were Sleeping Beauty in the bower of roses, stroked her wind-snarled hair with love, kissed her deeply and in such a way she couldn’t wait for them to reach the bedroom.
The next morning they got up early and went for a ride. It was still cool, before sunup, and there was a light wind as they rode up onto the ridge. The sky warmed to peach and then deep blue, the mesquite and saguaros snaring the rocks in shadow.
They sat still in their shadows on the ridge and watched the sunlight steal across the Tucson valley below.
“You’re no closer?” Matt asked.
“Nope.”
“Nothing in Winslow? In Vegas? Nothing you’re missing?”
“Nope.”
“You’re sure?”
“I can’t imagine what it would be. The whole trip was a dead end.”
“So the woman told your guy she was on the run and people were after her, and that’s why he took her along?”
“About the size of it.”
“What about the boyfriend? The one she wanted to meet with?”
“We don’t know for sure, but he might have met her there after Perrin went out for a walk.”
“He must have walked a long time.”
“Yes. At least a couple of hours.” She thought about it. “Maybe he saw something.”
“Saw something? Like a criminal act?”
“Maybe. Or had a run-in with someone.”
“In Winslow?”
“I know, it’s a stretch. But it’s possible.”
“Enough so whoever it was would follow him all the way to Madera Canyon?”
Laura shook her head. “That does seem far-fetched.”
Still, when they got back, she called the Winslow PD and left a message for Detective Greg Wyland. She doubted anything would come of it.
13: Legwork
Laura drove directly to Madera Canyon. Time for another round of interviews.
Anthony would be in court today, testifying in another homicide case. The autopsy results would be coming today, too. He promised to email them to her phone.
Which meant she’d have to drive down to the mouth of the canyon to get them.
She was feeling in a lousy mood. They were no closer to finding out who shot Sean Perrin than they were a week ago. Time had a way of getting away from you. If an arrest wasn’t made within two days, it became much more of an uphill climb. They’d spent four full days in Winslow and Las Vegas, and now it was time to concentrate on the people in the canyon.
She started with Barbara Sheehey.
She followed Barbara as she went to make beds in a cabin after the people checked out.
“Did Mr. Perrin give you the impression he was scared of anything?”
“Scared? Him? He was too busy using the soft soap on everybody to do that. Would you hold that side?” she added, nodding to the sheet.
Laura did, stretching the corner over the mattress.
“So he didn’t seem to have anything on his mind? Nothing he was worried about?”
“Nope. Although he said his father was dying, and that’s why he came out here. I mentioned that, didn’t I?”
Laura felt something inside her go still. She tried to remember what the sister, Ruby Ballantine said, but couldn’t.
She thought Ruby said he wasn’t going to bother to come. Or he didn’t reply. Something like that. “Was he close to his father?”
“I don’t think he liked him very much. Just the impression I got, like he felt it was his duty as a son to come out and see him before he died.”
“Did he go see him?”
“I don’t know. He didn’t seem to leave this canyon from the moment he got here.” She added hastily, “Of course I wouldn’t know, since I don’t keep track of my guests’ comings and goings.”
“Did he mention his sister?”
“I don’t think so. Mostly he was talking about how rich his father was. Of course with him, it couldn’t just be that he was well-off. His dad had to be in the Forbes Top 100.”
“Did he say how his father made his money?” Laura asked.
“He said, venture capitalist. I don’t know what that is, do you?”
Laura knew, vaguely. “I think it’s someone with capital who will help a promising business get its start. Or infuse money into a business that’s not doing well.”