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Mason nodded, his eyes scanning the room. “No signs of forced entry, either,” he said, his voice low. “Which means the killer had a key, or they were let in.”
She nodded. “There’s no way we would have heard shots over the noise of the cranes.”
“I’ll use the drones. Check every inch of the ship,” Tai announced.
Mason turned to her, his face grim. “You need to preserve the chain of evidence. Stay with the body. Start documenting the crime scene. I’m heading out to search the ship. The shooter’s probably still on board.”
“Be careful,” she warned.
He smiled, baring white teeth. “Right back atcha.”
Mason disappeared through the doorway. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself, and started cataloguing the scene.
She moved methodically, taking in every detail. The smell of blood and gunpowder was overwhelming, but she forced herself to focus. She noted the position of the body, the placement of the wound, the way the blood had pooled.
The sound of the cranes outside was deafening, the clanging and banging of metal on metal reverberating through the walls. Definitely no way they would have heard the shot.
She was just about to start photographing the scene when a shadow fell across the doorway behind her. She whirled around, her hand already reaching for her gun, but it was too late.
A solid form tackled her to the ground, knocking the wind out of her. She struggled, trying to break free, but her attacker was too strong.
She felt the cold metal of a gun barrel press against her temple, and her blood ran cold. This was it. This was how she was going to die.
She closed her eyes, waiting for the inevitable. But the shot never came.
Instead, she heard a familiar voice, low and urgent in her ear. “Avery, it’s me. Don’t move.”
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M18 in hand,Mason eased through the maze of shipping containers stacked on the deck of the massive cargo ship. The metal boxes towered over him, creating a labyrinth of narrow passages and dead ends perfect for an ambush. Not that he expected to stumble on the shooter. If it were him, he’d be hiding in some obscure corner of the ship, biding his time until he could escape unnoticed.
Graham’s voice came over the comlink. “No sign of the target on the upper decks,” he said, his breath coming in short bursts as he ran. “Moving to the lower levels now.”
Kate’s voice followed, her tone clipped and professional. “Sweeping the engine room,” she said, the sound of her footsteps echoing over the comlink. “No sign of the shooter here either.”
Fenn chimed in, “Checking the crew quarters. Nothing so far.”
“Drone footage shows the captain heading off the ship about ten minutes before Stenberg drove up.” Tai informed them. “It wasn’t him.”
Mason nodded, his jaw clenched. With multiple cranes plucking containers off the deck, the exterior of the ship would be cleared of personnel. The fact that the crew seemed to have disappeared made sense. Shore leave was probably a rare commodity.
“Copy that,” he acknowledged.
He rounded a corner, his eyes scanning the narrow passageway between the shipping containers. The sound of his own breathing was loud in his ears, drowning out the distant clanging of metal on metal.
Mason had cleared the front half of the ship. He was working his way toward the stern. Once he finished, he’d head back to help Avery.
Paul’s eager voice came over the comlink. “I’ll head up to you guys,” he said, his voice rising with excitement. “One more set of eyes won’t hurt.”
Mason shook his head, his jaw clenched. “Negative,” he barked. “Stay put, Paul. That’s an order.”
The last thing he needed was Paul confronting a killer.
Paul grumbled something under his breath, but Mason ignored him. He had more important things to worry about than his brother’s wounded pride.
Like checking in with Avery.
He tapped his comlink. “Avery, come in. Do you copy?”