They stopped at the side of the coffee shop, and he pointed at some bushes lining the adjoining building. “That’s a perfect place for a camera. Maybe on the roof, too. I’ll have to talk to the owner to see how he feels about us getting on his roof, but either one will give us a good shot of the main entrance and this side door. The parking lot is good, too. We usually have a few cameras in vehicles with privacy glass.”

“What about inside?” Simon asked. “Starbucks lets you position and hide cameras?”

“Nah, when it’s a big chain like this, I don’t ask. I’ve tried that route with other companies, and our requests have to go up to their corporate office and then it just gets complicated. Instead I’ll have my guys inside with discreet cameras, and we’ll warn the employees a minute before we start that we’re filming a prank or a surprise for someone so they don’t interfere. I have one guy whose sole job is to keep the employees and customers from interfering. Usually have to edit him out in production because there’s always someone who tries to get involved, and he’s caught on camera holding them back and rapidly explaining what’s going on.”

“That sucks.”

“That’s his job. Can’t blame people who jump into action if they think something bad is going down. Some of our pranks can really freak out bystanders. You need to be prepared if people start screaming or laughing too loud. You can’t let it draw you out of hiding.”

Simon nodded seriously. “No way.”

“One time—”

“Excuse me, sir? You can’t smoke out here.” A tall female in a green Starbucks apron spoke behind him.

He turned around, the cigarette limp in his mouth. “I’m sorry?”

She smiled. “You can’t smoke right outside restaurants.”

Rage swamped him and he could barely speak. “I know the law. I’m way more than ten feet from the entrance.”

Her gaze did the expected scar bounce, and then she pointed at the side door directly behind him. “But you’re not ten feet from that one. And our air system sucks in from over here. We can smell it inside.”

He plucked the cigarette from his lips, holding her gaze. Don’t tell me what to do. Her smile faltered. He dropped the cigarette and ground it against the concrete with his shoe. Her gaze dropped to the movement and she scowled. That’s right, bitch. You can clean it up.

“Sorry about that. I forgot about the other door,” he replied.

She glanced at Simon. “Not a problem.” Her ponytail bobbed as she spun around and went back to the front entrance.

He watched her leave, and his empty fingers ached to touch the vulnerable skin of her neck. And squeeze. He’d spin her to face him as he tightened his grip on her neck, as her eyes bulged in fear and her mouth gaped in horror. Make her pay for her arrogance. Make her look into his eyes as he brought her pain. Or see her skull explode in a red mist.

“Hey. You okay?” Simon asked.

He jerked, turning back to Simon, forgetting the man was still there. “Yeah, she was something, huh?”

“Great ass,” he replied.

He stared through the glass of the coffee shop, spotting the young woman talking to two other employees and gesturing toward him and Simon in disgust.

I hope you’re here on Simon’s special day, bitch. You just got your name on a list.

34

“We’ve got a shooting instructor, a retired deputy, and a former patrol officer. What kind of professions and backgrounds did we get on the other victims?” Mason asked. He, Ray, and Zander were in a small room in the command center where they could hear themselves think. Ray had listed the three women’s names and professions on a huge whiteboard. Zander looked at a printout.

“Car sales,” he read. “Retired accountant, grocery clerk, two stay-at-home moms, speech therapist, retail sales, and cabdriver.”

“Is there more background on the moms?” Ray asked.

“Both attended college and worked in various retail capacities. Neither have worked outside the home in over five years.”

“Nothing in that list is grabbing me,” said Mason. “Let’s move ahead with these three women. We’ll keep the moms on the back burner for now. We might need to dig deeper there.” But his gut told him they were on the right track with the women’s ties to law enforcement. “How long did Jennifer Spendlin instruct at the shooting range?”

“Four years,” said Zander. “I talked to one of the other instructors. She taught the women-only classes and some of the advanced classes.”

“Any problems with students?”

“Not that he knew of. He said he’d ask around, but the general consensus was that she was well-liked and a top-notch teacher.”

Mason eyed her photo. Jennifer was a serious-looking young woman who’d left two children behind. After the shooting her husband had moved in with his parents to get help raising the children. Mason didn’t blame him. Raising a two- and a four-year-old had to be a full-time job.

Were you a deliberate target?

“What did we find out on Justin Yoder’s shooting range trip?” he asked.

“So far it’s been a dry lead. No one there remembered him and none of his friends or coworkers say they ever went shooting with him,” said Zander. “All we have is the one time his stepfather took him.”

The range Jennifer Spendlin had worked at was nearly two hours from Justin’s home. It didn’t feel like a solid connection in Mason’s brain.