lawyer.” He looked out the window and sighed. “I do think it’s a good idea, Cameron. And I want this to be over just as much as you do.” He turned back to the window, gazing out as he thought things through. He ran his hand over his mouth. “I don’t know, maybe if we could find a look-alike . . . some female agent who looks like you, who I could station in this house in your place . . .”
He turned around. “Maybe if—” He stopped suddenly, presumably seeing the look on her face. “What? What’s wrong?”
It was the thing he’d done right then. When he’d run his hand over his mouth.
It struck Cameron—the piece she’d been missing all this time about the night of Mandy Robards’s murder. There’d been something in that moment when she’d seen the killer through the peephole as he’d left Mandy’s room, something she’d never been able to put her finger on.
It was the way his blazer had pulled tight across his shoulders as he’d reached forward to push open the stairwell door. There’d been a faint imprint underneath his blazer, the same kind she’d just seen underneath Jack’s blazer when he had reached up to rub his mouth.
Cameron stared at Jack in surprise.
“I don’t know if this means anything . . . but I’m pretty sure the guy who killed Mandy Robards was wearing a gun the night he strangled her.”
Twenty-seven
IT TOOK JACK a moment to process what Cameron had just said.
“A gun? What makes you think that?”
Cameron gestured to his shoulders. “There was a bulge under his blazer—I think he was wearing a shoulder harness. Working with FBI agents, I’ve probably seen it hundreds of times before but never consciously paid any attention to it. But when you moved your arms and rubbed your face like that, it looked kind of bulky right under your shoulders there . . .” She trailed off, as if unsure how to describe it.
“You could see my gun printing.”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“And you’re sure you saw the same thing with the guy who left Mandy Robards’s room?”
“Yes. I always felt like there was something I was missing, I just couldn’t figure it out,” Cameron said. “Does that mean anything, that he was wearing a gun?”
Jack’s mind worked through this new development. They knew so little about the killer, everything meant something. And this piece of information could mean a lot. “I certainly find it interesting that he suffocated Mandy Robards when he had a gun on him.”
“Guns make noise.”
“Yes, they do. Although a professional could’ve brought a silencer to take care of that. I’m thinking more than ever now that this murder wasn’t something that was planned.”
“A jealous boyfriend, perhaps? Maybe he confronted Mandy about Senator Hodges and it escalated,” Cameron suggested.
Jack shook his head. “We already looked into that angle. The shoulder harness is an interesting development. You might not have recognized it, but someone with a trained eye would’ve spotted the gun right away. That would be a sloppy, risky move, with the city’s restrictions on handguns,” he said, referring to the fact that Chicago citizens were not permitted to own or carry handguns. “Makes me think this guy is licensed in this city to carry a concealed weapon.”
“Like a cop, you mean? Or an agent?”
“Maybe . . .” Jack mused over this for moment. Then something occurred to him. He strode over to the foyer and unzipped the duffel bag he’d left there earlier. He pulled out the case files he’d brought to the wedding—he’d made copies of everything and left the originals with Wilkins. He opened the file with the photographs of the people they’d interviewed in connection with Mandy’s murder.
He located the photograph he was searching for and took a closer look.
Interesting.
He handed the photograph over to Cameron. She pointed. “This is one of the photos you showed me the night of the bachelorette party.”
“His name is Grant Lombard,” Jack said. “He does private security for Senator Hodges. He carries a gun—I noticed it the night we interviewed him. He had the proper permits, and since Mandy had been suffocated the gun didn’t jump out to us as a red flag. I remember him from the interview—sort of a cool, professional type. I also recall him being about five feet eleven and one hundred seventy pounds, so he matches the physical description of the guy we’re looking for. I thought I remembered him having brown eyes, too, although I wanted to