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“I’m taking this as a warning.”
She nodded. “Anyone who could make that trigger pull could’ve easily killed us. I think I saw the damn round pass right in front of me, although I know that’s not really possible. And auto glass these days is not the crap it used to be. To shatter both and keep going takes some horsepower.”
Sean studied the surroundings. “Slight breeze, lots of trees, maybe some high ground where the shooter was. Sun behind him, which favored the shot. Still impressive. We’re moving perpendicular to the shot at sixty miles an hour.”
“Seventy,” corrected Michelle. “Shooter must be a hell of a mil-dot counter. That was some fancy reticle figuring.”
Sean nodded. “Military sniper?”
“Maybe. Only question is whose. If ours, it’s not a pretty picture. Question is why, and the answer is pretty obvious.”
“Edgar Roy,” said Sean. He put his back to the front panel of the car and slid down on his butt. “Government bean counter?”
“What the file said.”
“FBI watch list. Lawyer murdered. Cutter’s Rock hospitality. Long-range warning shot for us.”
“Doesn’t add up, does it?”
“Not in the world I live in, no.”
She said, “You think it’s safe to get going?”
“I guess we have to chance it. But you have my permission to drive like you’re auditioning for NASCAR.”
No more shots hit as they raced onto the interstate.
They retraced their journey from the night before and got to Portland ten minutes before the flight from D.C. landed. They took a couple minutes to clean out the shattered safety glass, which had acted as designed, shattering into a zillion pieces but staying together as a cracked whole.
Sean waited for the deplaning passengers while Michelle went to check on another rental car.
There were thirty-nine passengers on the flight.
Megan Riley was the thirty-ninth coming through the exit gate.
She probably didn’t want to get off the plane, he thought.
She looked over at Sean expectantly. He said, “Megan?”
She nodded and headed toward him.
Michelle walked up to him at that moment and whispered, “She looks like she’s about to start high school.”
Riley was petite, her red hair sprawled across her shoulders and her face heavily freckled. She was struggling with a roller and a heavy litigation bag that no doubt contained Ted Bergin’s old-fashioned paper files. Sean took the bag from her, shook Riley’s hand, and introduced Michelle.
When they got to the Ford, Riley saw the shattered windows and the broken glass still littering the floorboards.
“My God, what happened?”
Sean looked at Michelle, who said, “Could’ve been worse. Only problem is there are no more rentals available. Hope you brought a heavy jacket, Megan.”
“Was it an accident?” she asked.
“Not exactly,” said Sean, as he opened the rear door for her.
CHAPTER
12
