“The first impression it leaves,” Eve said, “is that Ramsey was shot because of what he’d done as a judge, because of his reputation and what it means to people. The crossed-out picture is a sort of in-your-face sneer; that’s what Harry thought.”

“I suppose,” Harry said, “that it could be some kind of misdirection, to point us away from the trial or from some personal motive.”

Sherlock nodded. “Here’s the deal. I agree the Xerox itself could be misdirection, but what about where it was found? It makes it seem like there were two people involved, but the fact is there was only the shooter, and he was on the beach.”

Harry said, “Then how’d the rock get here? Did the guy climb up the cliff to drop it under the bush, then scramble back down to the beach and climb back aboard his Zodiac before the cops got here?”

Sherlock smiled. “There’s a freshly broken branch inside that bush, and I doubt it was one of our forensic team who broke it. Something heavy broke it from behind, from the rear, and it’s maybe two feet directly up from where the flag on the ground marks where they found the rock. That means the rock wasn’t just laid on the ground under the bush, it hit the bush hard.”

Savich said, “So it came from a distance.” He looked down over the wall again. “It’s too far down to throw it up and hit the bush with much force. But a small rock could easily be shot up here with a slingshot, say. One of those leather Trumark models they use to hunt jackrabbits and such. It would reach up here easily, aimed at the hydrangea, a nice big target. Good going, Sherlock.”

Eve stared at her. “How’d you think to even look for that?”

Sherlock said matter-of-factly, “There had to be a solution to Harry’s conundrum, and this was the only one I could think of. The shooter was careful, he studied Ramsey and picked his spot carefully, so it didn’t make sense he’d give up that advantage by climbing up the trail to drop a message.”

“Amazing,” Eve said. “So much for our second perp.” But Harry wasn’t convinced.

Sherlock said, “Answer me this, Agent Christoff. If there was a second man, why didn’t he come out from his hidey-hole to make sure Ramsey was dead? No, what the shooter wanted was to kill Ramsey, and didn’t care too much if he missed with that rock. In the grand scheme of things, that attempt to sneer at us, to misdirect us, or whatever, wouldn’t have worked if we didn’t find the rock. So what?”

Everyone chewed on that. Harry said, “Okay, one shooter, then. I can’t get over the timing—Ramsey postponed the trial and he gets shot. It’s got to be the Cahills behind this, or someone they’re involved with. The timing makes it too coincidental, and I, for one, don’t believe in coincidences.”

“I don’t, either,” Savich said. “But as Sherlock pointed out, a stranger couldn’t predict Ramsey would be standing out here exactly when he needed him to, and so someone’s been studying him for at least a week, I’d say.”

Eve rubbed her hands over her arms. “Someone who followed him around for a week? That’s hard to take in.”

Harry said, “Okay, say it isn’t the Cahills. But the timing is still what it is—even if it was planned for some time, someone may be cashing in on a wonderful opportunity, since the Cahills are hanging over the crime scene like a black cloud.”

“Judge Hunt closing down the trial was mentioned on the local news at noon yesterday,” Eve said. “If someone had already planned to kill him, they moved very fast.”

“There’s another big question with the Cahills,” Savich said. “The way it looks now, there’ll be a mistrial because the federal prosecutor may have been compromised, and now he’s missing. Ramsey’s being shot doesn’t change that. It will all begin again for them, with a different set of players.”

Eve said, “Molly said that was one of the first things out of Ramsey’s mouth when he woke up. Why shoot him? A judge’s job is to be impartial, unlike the prosecutor who’d spent months preparing for the trial. What difference did it make to the Cahills who was sitting up there in the black robe?”

Eve looked over at the crime scene tape that marked where Ramsey had fallen. “Whoever it was made one big fat mistake.”

Everyone looked at her.

“The shooter didn’t manage to kill Ramsey. He failed. Now what’s he going to do? Try again? If it was the Cahills who targeted Ramsey, for whatever reason, they’ve already won, because he’s out of the picture for the near future. What if it was someone else?”