Don't Look Twice Read Online Free

even reloaded. Bullet marks were everywhere. Glass shattered on the refrigerated unit in back. The type of weapon used, a Tec-9 or a Mac-10, wasn’t exactly the kind of pinpoint weapon one might choose if they were trying to target someone.
    â€œNo.” Hauck shook his head. “Just the wrong place at the wrong time, Freddy.”
    Still, a federal prosecutor gunned down this way would bring a lot of attention to this. Every media outlet across the country would be on their backs. Not to mention the Feds. They’d have to take a look at everything. What Sanger was doing here. Any personal vendettas against him. What cases he was working on.
    â€œYou know what this means, LT?” Munoz said, standing up.
    â€œYeah, I know what it means…” He slid out a small photo from David Sanger’s wallet. His wife—pretty, blond, her hair in a ponytail. Smiling. Two kids. Just a few minutes ago that had been his world.
    He handed Munoz back the wallet. “It means you can forget about that angel, Freddy.”
    The shells were nine-millimeter. Dozens were lodged all over the walls. Judging from what Hauck recalled—the amount of bullets, casings, the fast reload—the gun was probably a Tec-9.
    Not the kind of weapon one could expect to make a precision shot with.
    A canvas of the witnesses mostly confirmed Hauck’s own recollection of events. No one had been able to get a clear description of the assailants. The truck’s windows were tinted. The shooter faced away from the crowd. Only Hauck had caught a glimpse. Everyone else had ducked or panicked as soon as the initial shots rang out. It had all happened so fast.
    Except several people recalled the shooter shouting something prior to driving away.
    The woman who had been in front of Hauck at the counter just before it happened said it sounded something like “ Tarantino, asshole…”
    â€œLike the director?” Hauck asked.
    â€œThat’s what she heard,” Steve Chrisafoulis said. “The guy filling up his Prius on pump two heard it different. More like ‘ Porsafina. ’”
    â€œPorsafina? ”
    â€œJust telling you what they heard, LT.”
    It was going to be difficult, if not impossible, Hauck realized, to get any agreement. The sudden shock and panic. Twenty people were going to have twenty different recollections of what had taken place.
    Munoz turned to Hauck. “You said the shooter was Hispanic, right?”
    Ed Sweeney offered, “No one seemed to get much of a view, Lieutenant.”
    Hauck said, “I think so. Why?”
    â€œâ€™Cause what if it was more like, For Sephina , maybe? Por Sephina ? That mean anything to you, LT?”
    â€œNo.” If he had somehow been the target of this, he didn’t see the connection.
    He went back inside the store. Sunil still had a medical tech attending to him. “You doin’ okay?”
    The Pakistani had a cut on his arm from flying glass. He blew out his cheeks. “I suppose so, Lieutenant.”
    â€œLemme ask you, Sunil, any reason someone would want to do something like this to you? Any enemies we should know about? Any money you owe out there?”
    â€œEnemies?” The gas station manager rounded his eyes wide. “No, I’m a good guy, Lieutenant. I don’t have enemies…”
    â€œPeople heard the gunman shouting something like ‘Tarantino’ as they pulled away.”
    Sunil furrowed his brow. “You mean like that Hollywood guy, Lieutenant?”
    â€œI don’t know what I mean, Sunil. ‘Tarantino.’ Or maybe ‘ Por Sephina .’ Spanish. Anything like what I’m saying meaning anything to you, Sunil?”
    The Pakistani looked perplexed. He dabbed a hand through his thinning dark hair. “You know me, Lieutenant. I don’t make problems for anyone.”
    He wasn’t lying. Hauck patted him on the shoulder. “I know. You get that nick