Page 76 of Fatal Vision

He put up his hand to shade his eyes, ready to go for his weapon, when he realized it was Connor in the rental.

He killed the headlights and Sabrina waved from the passenger side as she bounced out of the truck before Connor could get around to open her door. “Aw, look,” Sabrina said. “A dog!”

Connor rolled his eyes as she bent down to make friends with Salisbury.

“What are you two doing here this early?” Colton asked.

Sabrina looked up and cocked a thumb at Connor. “Your friend couldn’t sleep, like usual. Plus, I’m on Eastern time. We were both awake, so thought we’d swing by and see if you needed extra eyes on the files from Beatrice.”

“She hasn’t sent them yet. She’s reviewing them one more time.” He motioned them around to the back of the house. “I had company right before you got here. Not sure who it was, but they left footprints near my truck. Let’s get inside.”

He unlocked the door and held it open. Once they were in, he reset the security alarm and they followed him to the kitchen. “Shelby’s still sleeping, so we need to keep it down.”

“Who was it?” Connor asked. “Your visitor. Any ideas?”

Colton shrugged. “No clue, but you know what I’m thinking. I need to get Shelby out of here, move her somewhere off the grid. Even with the security system, me, and the dog, she’s too exposed.”

Sabrina stared at the mess scattered on the floor. Beside her, Connor did the same. “What the hell happened here?” he asked.

Colton grabbed the broom from the utility closet and started sweeping up the food, to Salisbury’s disappointment. “You don’t want to know.”

Connor went to the French press and started prepping it for fresh coffee. Sabrina sat at the table and Salisbury jumped in her lap. “What a good boy.” She accepted a sloppy kiss and pinched Salisbury’s cheeks. “You’re a charmer, aren’t you?”

“Prints?” Colton asked. “Did you find any on that wrapper?”

“Several full, one partial.” She nuzzled Salisbury’s forehead. “The full prints matched a clerk at a gas station in Tulsa. He’s a former juvie, and probably got his prints on that wrapper from stocking the shelf or checking out the customer who bought the bar. Nothing in his file indicates he’s a killer—his juvenile record is from shoplifting at age thirteen. I’m running the partial through IAFIS, but it’ll take some time.”

“IAFIS?” Colton put the broom away. “Translation?”

“The FBI’s Integrated Automated Fingerprint Identification System. Partial prints are a disaster to match and there are millions of fingerprints in the database. Plus, there are more than 15,000 law enforcement agencies in the US, most of which are overworked and don’t always get prints uploaded to IAFIS.”

“Can you run it against members of the military, specifically snipers?”

“Afraid it’s not that simple.”

“But they’ll be in that database, won’t they?”

“Possibly, but the military, as we all know, moves in mysterious ways, and if the sniper served before 1999, when IAFIS was created, their prints might not be in there at all.”

“Fuck.” He jammed his hand in his hair. “I feel like we’ve got nothing. This guy is out there, I know it. I can feel him sniffing around even without seeing those shoe prints tonight.”

Connor slapped him on the back and handed him a mug of coffee. “If he’s sniffing around, bring it on, cuz he may be good, but we’re better.”

They clinked mugs, Sabrina laughing at another Salisbury kiss.

A second later, a scream pierced the air.