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“Somebody shot him with a .22. He’s been hit three times in the back and once in the back of the head. The three are grouped tight. He was shot, then fell forward and didn’t move after he hit the ground.”
Gary said, “He’s wearing the wrong clothes for out here.”
“Uh-huh.”
He rose and went to the body, checking inside the back of the man’s collar. “Dior Homme. That’s a three hundred dollar shirt.”
Hunter said, “Are you serious? And how did you know that?”
“I was in California on vacation a couple years ago. We went to Rodeo Drive. You know, to be tourists and gawk at all the pricey stuff. They have a Dior Homme store there.”
Hunter looked at the dead man, “What in the heck is someone wearing a shirt from Beverly Hills doing out here?”
“I’m thinking drugs, maybe a drug deal that went wrong.” Gary looked at the holes in the man’s shirt, “You think it could be a .25 instead of a .22?”
“Maybe, but look at the one in his head. It’s small. Had to be a plain .22 round, too, because anything more powerful would have exited the front. There’s no blood on his front.”
“Did you move him?”
“I checked for vitals, then lifted him just enough to see there were no exit wounds.”
Gary looked around, “Where are the shooter’s tracks?”
Hunter gave him a long look. “There aren’t any.”
“None?”
“This guy’s tracks, and now yours and mine are the only ones here.”
“Are you sure you didn’t miss them?”
“Knock yourself out. It won’t hurt my feelings.”
Gary walked over the area for twenty minutes, then returned to Hunter and the dead man. “I followed his back trail that way for seventy, eighty yards and looked a good bit on both sides of his path. Only found your sign and his.”
Hunter said, “I’d followed him three miles to here, then I went back a couple hundred yards and rechecked. His and mine are all
there is.”
Gary looked the area over again, “This is on a slight rise, but it’s nothing different from this area for a quarter mile around. You think he was shot earlier and walked this far before falling?”
“Uh-uh. Look at the blood. You can tell it leaked while he was in this position. He was shot right here.”
Gary tilted the sweat-stained ball cap back on his head. “How can that be?”
Hunter said, “I’m thinking somebody channeled Chris Kyle or Carlos Hathcock. It’s the only thing I’ve got.”
“But with a .22?”
“I know.” They were silent for a minute, then Hunter asked, “Who’s coming out on this one?”
“Sheriff Montoya.”
“Is Danny bringing any deputies with him?”
Gary grinned at Hunter for calling the new Sheriff by his first name. Montoya had been Sheriff for less than a year, and was a little stiff when people didn’t address him by his title. “You just keep asking for it don’t you?”
“He told me I could call him that, just nobody else can. So, is he bringing anybody with him?”
