Page 81 of Fish in a Barrel

It was Fetzer. Her lieutenant said they needed statements from Sandra and pictures before they got the warrant to bring Cartman in. She told him it would be tomorrow at the earliest, and he texted his thanks.

Then he got a text from Christie, telling him he’d have the tapes from the surrounding area to Jackson later that afternoon at the earliest, and that—thatwas what it took for Jackson to calm down.

Henry was right. They’d hurried up; now it was time to wait. Waiting may not have been his favorite thing to do, but he could admit to himself his body wasn’t up for much else at the moment.

Noodles and Knowhow

WHEN ELLERYwalked into the house, it smelled like Chinese food and sounded like a military op center.

He’d spotted K-Ski’s Charger in front of the house, as well as the horrible minivan in the garage, and there was a little red Mazda in front of the neighbor’s house that was so battered Ellery couldn’t imagine it belonged to anybody who didn’t know Jackson, so he was semiprepared for people, but he was unprepared for the low hum of purpose that echoed throughout the dining room and living room.

A young Adonis with dark curly hair and big brown eyes stood at the kitchen sink, washing dishes, and Ellery took a moment to smile at Cotton, who had helped to care for an injured military man after their last adventure. From what Jackson had said, the two had separated amid much angst and denial of pain, but Cotton’s sad, clear-eyed smile in return told Ellery that the boy still had hope, and so he would too.

Jackson, Sean, and Henry’s boyfriend, Lance Luna, were all sitting at the kitchen table, poring over their laptops, while Henry and Sean’s nurse, Billy, wandered from person to person, peering over their shoulders and nodding.

Ellery took a moment to digest and realized this must be the traffic footage they’d been sent. He would imagine each laptop hosted the footage from a different traffic light, and they were probably looking to see if they could identify anybody who had been near the shooting site.

Jackson had texted him the plan; seeing it in action was pretty impressive.

What Jackson hadnottexted him, however, was that he and Sean had been overdoing it. That he could see for himself.

Henry looked up as he stood at the bar that divided the kitchen from the dining room and nodded, squeezing Lance’s shoulder before he walked over.

“Find anything?” Ellery asked, knowing he should care more. He wasn’t stupid—the implications of a sniper with an agenda that would terrify Trey Cartman were not lost on him. Yeah, sure, it could be somethingnotconnected to Ezekiel Halliday or the forced relocation, but Ellery would bet every startup loan he’d gotten for his business that there was a connection. Sometimes it didn’t matter which side of the bench you were on; any connection could lead straight to him and Jackson at the wrong end of a sniper’s scope.

But his house—designed in the sixties with absolutely no thoughts of open windows or flow-through—was uniquely protected in that regard. The siding was faux stone, which while bordering on unattractive at the moment, was surprisingly good at masking heat signatures, so that was helpful. The sliding glass door opened out onto a pool, and Ellery had checked the lines of sight that afternoon. There wasn’t a building closer than a mile that had more than two stories. To complicate things for a would-be sniper, the trendy graphite vertical blinds that he used to keep out the sun were also damned near impossible to see through.

The next biggest window was in the guest room, and since there were no guests at present, that left their bedroom as their most vulnerable place—or it would be if Jackson hadn’t installed steel plates under the drywall during his last week of leave after his heart surgery. Since they’d been threatened by stalkers before, Ellery had okayed the expense, and also the expense of the bullet-resistant glass and the special blinds on their windows.

And as Ellery had determined that morning, the only place for a clear shot through their bedroom was on top of their neighbor’s roof. Good luck with that guy. He owned his own arsenal and was crazy enough to use it.

So the risk of getting hit by a sniper seemed minimal compared to the risk of watching Jackson keel over as he sat.

Henry grimaced as he saw the look on Ellery’s face, and Ellery tried to crank it down a notch and failed.

“I got him home,” he said. “And I fed him.” They both looked to the half-full bowl of noodles by Jackson’s elbow and winced. “And I changed his bandages and watched him take his meds. Ellery, he’s a grown man, and he’s worried. Not just about you and him—about everybody. He suggested Lance and I take a vacation. Thought maybe Sean and Billy could go stay with relatives. Suggested having you warn Judge Brentwood or post a police presence in front of Ezekiel Halliday’s care home—or Effie Shaw’s or Annette Frazier’s. And I’ll be honest, I can’t argue with any of it. We’re not the police. We don’t have the authority to do any of it, and only a few of us are trained in any sense of the word. But you didn’t see that shot. It was long, and it was scary. Somebody out there is really good with a rifle.”

“Are the police working on this at all?” Ellery asked. He’d told Crystal and AJ about the shot from half a mile away, and understanding the situation, they’d both put their entire day on hold to run deep background on all of the players in their little drama. Ellery was expecting some files in his email as soon as he sat down, but he had to admit he felt like Jackson looked.

And Jackson was pale, with bags under his eyes. His hands shook as he ran his fingers through his hair, and Ellery had the feeling he was due for another pain pill.

Ellery let out a breath, suddenly exhausted and starving. “Is there any more Chinese food? That smells amazing.”

“Billy and Sean brought enough to feed an army for a month. There’s even cauliflower noodles with broiled chicken and teriyaki sauce.”

Ellery’s mouth started to water, and he gave Henry a naked look of supplication.

“All right, all right. You sit and talk to him. I’ll get you a bowl.”

“Thanks, Henry,” he said, feeling the gratitude to his toes. “Maybe throw in some extra. I’ll see if I can get him to eat.”

Henry snorted. “Good luck with that.”

Ellery nodded, but this time he couldn’t really blame Jackson, either. Wearily he sank into the vacant chair next to Jackson’s and peered over his shoulder. Footage from the traffic light on Fair Oaks at Arden sped by in triple time, and Jackson scowled at it. Ellery watched as he hit Pause and then wiped his eyes, giving Ellery a weary smile.

“Hello, Counselor,” he said, stifling a yawn. “How’s it going?”

“Crystal and AJ should have background on everybody involved in the cases before I’m done with dinner,” he said lightly. “And then I, too, can become a data zombie like everybody else.”