don’t forget that Watters is a civilian. Should we be divulging information about Baxter?”
He looked at his sergeant. “For one thing, why are you here?”
“I’m checking my men, making sure everyone is okay.”
“Bullshit. There’s more. And two, I think we owe Watters this much. He just put his life on the line for us. Why don’t you go back to the office and I’ll let you know when you’re needed.”
“Who died and gave you guts? Okay. Whatever. I’ll see you in a few hours.”
After the sergeant turned and stomped off, Dale returned to the room and spoke to Watters. “After we got you and Baxter into the ER last night, I spent the night here in the hospital while Jimmy stayed with Rachel in case I needed to contact her. I got back to the office for a few minutes this morning, while you were in surgery, and brought those files with me. But my team has been working through the night. All we know for sure is that Baxter was born in Biloxi, Mississippi. From Sanders’ phone records, we found several phone calls to a phone booth in New Orleans and we expect that’s who Sanders was calling. As a rule, assassins like to hang out near home, believe it or not. I’ll follow up later.”
“So what are you going to do about Sanders?”
“I’m not sure yet. I…”
There was a light rap on the door and a nurse entered with a new envelope. “This is Ketoprofen, 50mg capsules for acute pain. It will act as both a pain killer and anti-inflammatory. Take one every four to six hours.”
“Thanks,” he said.
The nurse left.
Dale said, “I’m going to the office now to see what my team has found. We have to wait for the doctor’s permission to interrogate Baxter and I want to be ready when I do. Calvin, Jimmy and I would like you to watch us interview Baxter. We can check Baxter’s information with you. Maybe you’ll be able to expand on it or illuminate. What do you say?”
Watters smiled and nodded. “I’d like that.”
“Good. You should get some rest now. I’ll be back later.”
Chapter 39
Everyone was in that Sunday, recharged now that Baxter had tried to kill Watters and maybe more. The department was in full operational mode—phones ringing, papers rustling, fingers tapping keyboards and anxious chatter. Dale’s team hadn’t been this alive since the investigation had started, when Grant’s body was found more than four days ago.
Jimmy was already at his desk, looking like he’d gotten even less sleep, when Dale strode through, peeled off his jacket and set it on the back of his chair. A steaming mug of coffee was already sitting on his desk.
“How’s Watters?” Jimmy asked.
“Recovering. He seems to be in good spirits, considering the circumstances. Any word on when we can talk with Baxter?”
Jimmy shook his head. “Couple of hours. He had a full amputation and will be lucid by then, or good enough.”
Dale sat down at his desk. “What do we know so far?”
“We found a knapsack and a briefcase on the roof of the old Hadley Grocer building down the street from Watters’ hideout, jammed underneath the fire-exit staircase. Inside the knapsack we found a camouflaged rain poncho and a tarp. The briefcase contained pieces of a 7.62 x 51mm M40 and a tripod.”
“Marine standard-issue sniper rifle.”
Jimmy nodded and continued. “We circulated Baxter’s picture and got a possible hit. Baxter had checked into a penthouse suite at the Bellagio on Monday night.”
After a moment’s thought, Dale said, “That’s over $500 a night. Who’s paying the bill?”
Jimmy shrugged. “The hotel manager said the bill was paid for seven nights, in cash. The bed looked like it hadn’t been slept in. No fingerprints. We found a suitcase with some clothes and toiletries and a duffel bag full of weapons in the vent.” Jimmy read from a sheet. “A Browning 9 x 19mm Hi-Power, a Taurus Millennium series PT145, a Walther P99 semi-automatic, the list goes on. Ballistics ran them all, but they came up empty on our murders and couldn’t connect them to any murders across the country. They also sent the data to ATF, to run through their National Integrated Ballistic Information Network. Again, no match.”
“We caught a good one.”
“This is interesting but leads nowhere,” Jimmy said. “The team found ember remains in the sink. Baxter burned a sheaf of papers and ran it down the drain. We took out the pipes, but we couldn’t recover any kind of evidence.” He held up a sheaf of papers. “I just printed out Baxter’s bio, a textbook on becoming a champion killer.”
They divvied up the package and both men read without interruption.
Dale stared at Baxter’s Marine Corps boot camp ID photo—chiseled jaw, gleam in his eye—ready to make a difference. Baxter was an ex-Marine of the 2nd MEB, 2nd Battalion, 3rd Marines.
Baxter did two tours and was highly decorated, including two Purple Hearts. He had taken out fifty-three people in one two-hour exploit. Not long after he received a dishonorable discharge under a special warrant that was unexplained and classified.
Jimmy whistled. “Wow! Carlos Hathcock, the most legendary sniper in Marine and American military history, has ninety-three confirmed kills is his whole service time.”
“Yeah, but who knows how many they really have? The distances and circumstances make it extremely difficult to confirm. It also says here that Baxter received an early psychological discharge.” Dale looked at Jimmy. “I have a hard time believing that someone with Baxter’s sniper record and numerous combat medals and decorations would be dishonorably discharged from the Corps.”
It was Jimmy’s turn. “Look at this. The military has an outstanding, special, high-priority warrant out against Baxter.”
“Listen to this quote from one of Baxter’s commanding officers. ‘In training camp, Derek Baxter showed a rare gift for sharp shooting and I sent him to our Marine Sniper-Scout School, the finest of its kind in the world, where only six of every hundred who enter graduate. Derek graduated at the top of his class and joined one of the military’s most elite groups. His subsequent performance as a sniper was among the best I’ve ever seen.’ End quote.”
“I wonder what happened.”
Jimmy smiled. “The advantages of being a psychopath. No emotion about other people.”
Dale knew that the right thing would be to call the military and tell them they had Derek Baxter in custody.
At the end of reading, one thing was clear. Baxter was a military asset, but also an obvious sociopath.
Dale’s cell phone rang.
“Dayton.”
“We’ve got a problem, sir.”
He listened for a moment, the smile fading from his face. He hung up.
“Fuck!”
The uniform who’d been guarding Baxter’s room met Dale and Jimmy at the hospital entrance door.
“I tried to keep them out, Detectives, but they pushed their way through with their credentials. There was nothing I could do.”
“Don’t worry about it, kid.”
They took the elevator to the third floor. Dale and Jimmy strode across the lobby and passed the nurse’s station. Dale tried the doorknob to the room, but it had been locked from the inside. He jiggled it hard but it wouldn’t budge.
“Jimmy, find someone to open this, will you?”
As Jimmy turned to leave, the door was opened just enough for a large head with a blond crew cut to appear.
