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"Better than you, old man." Ray's eyes lingered on Gabriel's knee. "That old injury still giving you trouble?"
"Some days more than others."
Sheila watched this exchange with growing curiosity. There was clearly history here—not just professional courtesy, but something deeper. The way Ray kept his distance, the careful way her father stood... there was a story here she didn't know.
"What brings you by?" Ray asked, though his tone suggested he already knew. "Can't be a social call, not with both of you wearing badges."
Gabriel moved closer to one of the display cases, studying the array of tactical gear inside. "Need your expertise on something, Ray. Been making the rounds of night-vision dealers, trying to track down a particular model."
Ray's expression didn't change, but something shifted in his posture—a subtle tensing that Sheila might have missed if she hadn't been watching closely.
"Night vision's a specialty market," Ray said. "Not many civilian applications."
"Which is why we're here." Gabriel pulled out his phone, bringing up the still from Marcus's video. "This was captured yesterday. Military grade, probably Gen-3 or better based on the image quality. Ring any bells?"
Ray barely glanced at the image. "Lots of manufacturers make goggles like that. Could be surplus, could be newer civilian models. Without seeing them up close..."
He trailed off with a shrug that seemed a bit too casual to Sheila. She moved to examine a different display case, letting her father handle the conversation as agreed, but keeping Ray in her peripheral vision. The ex-soldier's eyes followed her movement, then snapped back to Gabriel.
"Thing is," Gabriel continued, "dealers are required to maintain records of night-vision sales. Class 3 and above, especially. Mind if we take a look at your logs?"
"Got them right here." Ray moved behind the counter and pulled out a thick binder. "Everything by the book, just like ATF requires."
Sheila noticed how quickly he'd produced the records—almost as if he'd been expecting this visit. She watched him flip through pages of sales records, each one meticulously documented with buyer information, serial numbers, dates.
"Last night-vision sale was three months ago," Ray said, turning the binder so Gabriel could see. "Hunting guide from Idaho. Got copies of his license and everything."
It was all too neat, too clean. Sheila thought about what her father had said about Ray, knowing every piece of tactical gear that moved through the valley. A man like that wouldn't survive just on officially documented sales.
"Mind if I look through these?" Gabriel asked, reaching for the binder.
"Be my guest." Ray's voice was steady, but his hand lingered on the binder a moment too long before releasing it.
While Gabriel examined the records, Sheila studied the store more carefully. Behind the counter, partially hidden by a rack of hunting clothes, she spotted a second door—heavier than the one to the stockroom, guarded by what looked like a keypad lock.
"Quite an impressive security setup," she said, gesturing to the cameras. "Rough neighborhood?"
Ray's eyes narrowed slightly. "Can't be too careful these days. A lot of valuable merchandise here."
"Including what's behind that door?" She nodded toward the heavy door.
"Storage," Ray said shortly. "Nothing interesting."
Gabriel looked up from the binder. "Everything seems in order here, Ray. Appreciate you taking the time."
But Sheila caught the slight emphasis he put on 'here,' and apparently so did Ray. The ex-soldier's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
"Always happy to help law enforcement," Ray said. His tone was pleasant enough, but there was an edge to it now. "That all you needed?"
"One more thing," Gabriel said. He closed the binder carefully. "Remember that situation in '98? With the missing equipment from Fort Douglas?"
The change in Ray's demeanor was immediate and dramatic. His face hardened, and his hand moved slightly toward his hip—an old soldier's reflex, Sheila guessed, reaching for a weapon that wasn't there.
At least not as far as Sheila could tell.
"That was a long time ago," Ray said quietly.
"Sure was." Gabriel's voice remained casual, but there was steel underneath it. "Never did figure out where all that gear ended up. ATF was pretty interested for a while, as I recall."