Page 41 of Shrapnel

“We start with him,” Elijah said as he looked at Jamie. “If this is connected to Luther’s death and Noah’s rise to power, then he might be closer to it.”

“We need to look into all the victims. They’re the only tangible evidence we have right now. Noah, can you get us everything on them? Work records, family interviews, the works?

“Sure,” Noah sighed. “But it’ll be tricky. The families don’t know about each other and I’m trying to keep everything quiet.”

“Are you saying we don’t know how to be sneaky?” Jamie asked with a raised brow.

“I’m saying I don’t want to get my head blown off because you got distracted by something shiny.”

“Aww, is the Little Lord scared? Don’t worry. I doubt anyone you employ could even hit a target that small.”

“Jamie,” Elijah’s tone was tight. He shot Jamie a look and he recognized the warning. That was code for, ‘I’m going to beat the absolute shit out of you the next time we train if you don’t shut up’.

Noah’s nostrils were flared, but there was no fight in his eyes. He looked tired. Drained of life.

“What about CCTV?” Elijah asked, trying to get the conversation back on track.

“I have copies from the crime scenes that had them. They’re all grainy as hell or completely corrupted. The cops couldn’t do anything with them, and I’ve got people working on it but they’re not real hopeful.”

“So that means we focus on the victims. We’re going to have to dig into every aspect of their life.”

“That might take some time…” Noah hedged.

Jamie smiled as he looked over the information. “Sounds like we need an expert, then.” He tapped one of the photos, turning it slightly so that it was just off-center. “And I know just the guy to help.”

Owen leaned down to look over the hood of his old sedan. The address Jamie texted him was not exactly on the GPS. It had taken him down a dirt road and only after several passes did he find the small gravel drive that led to a rusted gate. Multiple no-trespassing signs were hung lopsidedly off bits of twine. Their frayed ends rustled in the late afternoon breeze.

Following the tire marks sorely tested his poor car's suspension. It rattled him past the open gate and under trees with limbs arching over the drive. They were so thick that the branches blocked out the sun and it looked like there was a light at the end of a long tunnel.

The tunnel of trees opened up to a massive open field. Owen found the whole thing underwhelming. A shack sat off to the right—perhaps it was a house at some point but it was so run down that now it was just a jumble of corrugated steel and wood. To the left were open fields as far as the eye could see. Not even fences marred the landscape, just undulating green pastures of weeds and wildflowers.

Owen parked beside Jamie’s blue 1970s Chevy Blazer and tossed his keys into the passenger side before getting out. He shaded his eyes and found Jamie crouched over a large duffel bag.

“What the hell?” Owen called as he approached, having to step up and over the tall grass. “You sent me a text with an address and said hot anime girls were wanting touwuover my video gaming skills.”

Jamie looked over his shoulder with a smirk. “And you came running.”

His light brown eyes sparkled with his usual mischief. Owen was surprised to see his hair pulled back with a headband. It was too short to slick back, so the curled strands stuck up around the plastic headband like a fuzzy halo. The longer back of his hair shifted with the changing breeze.

“No,” Owen ground out. “I came because you texted me out of the blue.”

Jamie reached into the duffel. “Here, catch.”

He tossed something at Owen. He only realized it was a gun seconds before he caught it. The heavy metal weapon landed in his hands, and he fumbled with it, clutching it close to his chest with a panicked cry.

“Jesus! Jamie! You can’t throw a gun at people.” Owen held the handgun by two fingers, letting it dangle as far from him as he could stretch his arms.

“It’s not loaded,” Jamie said in a way that was supposed to be assuring but was absolutely not.

Owen grit his teeth and tried to hand the gun back to Jamie. “Why are you tossing weaponry at me?”

The grin slipped off his face. Jamie stood and was staring down at the open duffel bag. Owen followed his eyes and saw there were several guns all packed away with boxes of what he assumed were ammunition tossed in.

“I’m going to teach you how to shoot,” Jamie answered as he decided on one of the boxes, pulling the cardboard box top and dumping several clean, brassy bullets into his open palm.

“Do I get a say in this?” Owen asked derisively, eyebrows lifted as he wiggled the gun in Jamie’s direction. “I don’t want to learn how to shoot.”

The assassin sighed and took the gun from Owen. “I know you don’twantto, but you need to.” He kicked the duffel bag. “Look at the folder in there.”