“The police executed a warrant and searched Kendall’s house and car,” Connor said. “They found a gun there that matches the type of .32-caliber weapon they think was used in the parking-lot shooting, based on the type of slugs they recovered that night.”
“They executed a warrant? Based on what evidence?” Allison asked. She had been looking relieved since he’d told her the news, but now her tone was tinged with suspicion. “Were they able to trace the color of the car that the gunman used back to Kendall?”
“Does Kendall even have a state gun license?” Noah added.
Connor shook his head. “The answers to your questions are no and no. But, the police concluded that the slugs had probably come from a make of gun that hadn’t been manufactured in a long time, so I decided to have my people do some more digging.”
“Good going,” Matt said, nodding approvingly.
“I had a couple of my investigators visit gun shops around Boston,” Connor explained. “One shop owner recalled someone fitting Kendall’s description asking about possibly selling some guns a while back. They were practically collector’s items, and the guy who came in wanted to know how much they’d be worth.”
Connor looked around the room. He had everyone’s undivided attention, it seemed.
“None of the stuff I’d dug up on Kendall revealed that he was a gun enthusiast or even into hunting,” he went on. “So, I figured, if Kendall did own some unlicensed guns and he was in fact the guy who had gone into the gun shop trying to sell some classic firearms, then he’d probably inherited some handguns. Once I had one of my investigators look into probate court records in New Hampshire, I knew we definitely had our man.”
“How so?” asked Liz.
“Kendall’s father’s will is on file,” he responded. “It reveals that he gave his gun collection to his son and that collection included the type of .32-caliber the police think was used in the shooting.”
Connor looked at Allison and didn’t add the fact that, since Kendall had kept the gun after the shooting, instead of disposing of the incriminating weapon, there was a good chance he was thinking of using it again, and to fatal effect.
The thought again sent chills down Connor’s spine. As soon as all the clues had been gathered, he’d turned over his evidence to the police so a warrant could be executed. The urge first to beat the crap out of Kendall himself had been hard to resist however.
“What about the guy you saw lurking outside the townhouse that first night?” Allison asked. “Do you think it was Kendall who sped away that time?”
Connor nodded. “Probably. And, as we suspected, Kendall was throwing us off the scent by making it seem as if the threats were coming from a run-of-the-mill hood.”
“The note in the mail with the bad English you mean?” Allison asked.
Connor nodded. “Among other things.”
“We all owe you a debt of gratitude, Connor,” Allison’s father said. “You know you’re like family to us, but let us know if there’s ever a way we can repay you.”
Connor noted that, next to him, Allison stiffened slightly. “You mean on top of his hefty fees?” she asked.
Quentin shook his head. “Actually, I offered to pay him—” Quentin either ignored or didn’t see the quelling look that Connor shot him “—but he refused. He insisted on volunteering his services.”
Allison swiveled toward him and Connor met her look head-on. He could see what she was thinking. He’d purposely misled her. And this time he had no excuse.
“I’m relieved this episode is over,” Ava Whittaker said. “It’s been a painful and trying period for all of us.”
“True, but if Ally continues to work at the DA’s Office,” Matt put in, “I guess we should all be prepared if she runs into another nut willing to take matters into his own hands.”
“Speaking of which, how long do you intend to keep going at the DA’s Office, Ally?” Noah asked.
Connor felt Allison tense next to him and saw Quent and Allison’s parents exchange looks.
“You know, Allison,” Ava said gently, as if knowing this was a sensitive subject, “you are at the point in your career when a lot of the Assistant DAs would be starting to think about their next job.”
James Whittaker cast his daughter a sober look. “And, under the circumstances, you might want to think carefully about that.”
“What circumstances, Dad?” Allison asked. “This was an isolated case of one disturbed individual attempting to intimidate and harass me.” She shrugged. “It’s not as if it hasn’t happened to other prosecutors.”
Quentin cleared his throat and spoke up. “We were all worried sick about you.”
“Anyway, it’s not as if the Assistant DA’s job is the only potentially dangerous one in the world,” Allison went on. “Mom is a family judge, but I don’t see anyone here worried about one of the parties in her cases coming after her.”
“That’s because it hasn’t happened,” Quentin replied. “Whereas someone was firing bullets at you just a couple of weeks ago if you’ll recall.”
Connor sensed that Allison was reining in her temper with difficulty. “Maybe I want to rise through the ranks at the DA’s Office, has anyone thought about that?” she demanded.
He wasn’t known for his diplomacy, but Connor nevertheless decided it was probably time that he stepped in. “Maybe we’re not giving Allison the credit she’s due.”
Allison turned to look at him, the expression on her face saying she was wondering whether she’d heard him correctly.
Not glancing at her, he added, “I know I haven’t.”
“Thanks,” Allison said from beside him, her tone tinged with surprise.
He addressed himself to all the Whittakers, who were exhibiting a range of emotions from quiet amusement to unmasked interest. “I’ve been with Allison night and day for the past several weeks,” he said, hoping the Whittakers didn’t take the “night and day” part too literally. “I’ve seen how tough she can be when the circumstances call for it.”
Noah guffawed. “I’ll say. And not just when the circumstances call for it, either.”
From the corner of his eye, Connor saw Allison purse her lips.
Noah gave a mock shiver. “I rest my case.”