The Missing Sniper

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I have no map locations that show snipers. I've gone to all the locations they are supposed to be at. I even went up in the balloon again to see if I could refind the map markers and nothing. Originally posted by theoreticalfunk:. I've done that at least three times since I figured out I have this problem. This has been persistent for a week. At this point I've completed the game, but I did miss out on a few achievements that should have been easy to complete. At least if it happens to someone else they won't feel lonely. N1cky View Profile View Posts. I also have this problem.

And you're right, I don't feel lonely anymore. And whenever we needed outside help we always called on him. He was the best. Adam washed down a mouthful. Why didn't you tell me any of this before? Dillon shrugged, then turned his head to meet Adam's eyes with his own. I thought it best to keep my personal feelings out of it, not let it get in the way of doing my job. I'm sorry if you thought I was keeping something from you. It was Adam's turn to shrug. But tell me something. Were you aware that Thornton was receiving threats before the rally?

He said he didn't take them seriously and never said anything about the threats until after the shooting. You have to stop beating yourself up over this. You can't be sure what would have happened if you'd been there. But I don't want you to think I'm on some kind of Charles Bronson revenge trip.

Sure, I want to get the man who killed Uncle Bill, even though it was accidental. I owe him that and much more. But I'm still sheriff of Mendes County, and there's a man out there trying to kill a public official. I have a job to do, and I don't think he's just gone away like Thornton said, do you? Adam took his time swallowing his last bite. He didn't want to tell Dillon what he suspected about the sniper at this point. He wanted to be sure. What do you want me to do? Adam raised his cup and drained it. I want to go over the files again before I call it a day. The room at the Ramada Inn was okay.

Dillon gave Adam his office phone number, his beeper number, and his home number. Adam watched from the window of his room until Dillon drove away. Then he went to the motel office, found a map of the town, and went for a walk. Twenty minutes later, he stood in the Kmart parking lot, looking up at the holes in the wall from the sniper's first two shots. He estimated them to be three inches apart and seven feet above the pavement. Looking across the street to the rooftop where he and Dillon had stood earlier, he drew an imaginary line between the two points.

Satisfied with that, he walked out into the parking lot and found what he had seen earlier -- a faint brownish stain where Melvin Parsons had fallen from the platform. He knelt down on one knee, touched the faded bloodstain with his fingertips and concentrated. The images came quickly. Dillon as a boy with Uncle Bill Dillon riding a pony Dillon in scuba gear, swimming under water Adam walked to the wall of Kmart, leaned back against it and closed his eyes.

He felt weak, barely able to stand. He had seen the last things seen by a dying man, felt his last thoughts, his loving remembrances of the boy he'd raised like a son. It was several minutes before he regained himself. He had felt a man die. On his way back to the Ramada, Adam stopped for dinner and tried to make sense of what he had seen and heard so far. He'd seen the strange ribbon shape again. Was it a rope? Then there had been some kind of old cloth, dark green and ragged.

And the music, the singing voice, vaguely familiar but so swift and faint he couldn't identify it. The images swirled in his mind like pieces of a puzzle in a whirlpool. Nothing made any sense.

AC Rogue - Missing Sniper

He knew he had a long night ahead. As soon as he was back in his room, Adam opened his suitcase and took out a small electric coffee maker and a bag of Maxwell House Master Blend. After starting the pot, taking a shower, brushing his teeth and putting on his sweats, he decided he needed a break and called his daughters. Chris was not home. He remembered her telling him she and her husband, Rick, were going to visit his parents for a few days. He left a message saying he would call again on Sunday. Cindi, his younger daughter, was home but not in a good mood. Five- year-old Cory was in a bit of trouble for talking during quiet time at school.

Austin, not yet two, had gotten his busy little hands on several of their video movies and had managed to pull the tape out of the cassettes. Adam tried not to laugh, but he couldn't help himself. After talking with Cindi for a few minutes he was able to cheer her up a little. They hung up, and he felt better. But now he had to get back to work.

Reward Yourself

He stacked the files he'd borrowed from Dillon on the little round table motels always provide. He pulled out the pictures of Thornton, Melvin Parsons, and the scene of the shooting and spread them on the table. After he gently wiped his fingertips across them for a moment or two, images flew swiftly across his mind, flowing helter-skelter from the pictures and from corners of his own subconscious. Thornton standing at the podium Thornton crouching behind the podium Dillon under water, struggling to rise Cindi is there, scolding Cory The images disappeared, but the sound of the siren grew louder.

Adam looked out the motel window to see an ambulance speed by, lights flashing and siren blasting. He hurried to his suitcase, took out a pen, a pad of paper and scissors and began writing down each image and sound, each one on a separate line with a space between them. He wrote down every image he'd had since arriving in Mendes County, no matter how brief, even those of Cindi and the boys. It was the first time that had ever happened. Too soon after his phone call with Cindi, he decided.

His thoughts of them were too fresh in his mind and they had become mixed into the jumble of images. He made a mental note to avoid that in the future. Next he cut the sheets of paper into strips. Each strip contained an image or sound. When that was done, he began arranging them on the table. He had named this his jigsaw puzzle phase. It was tedious and time-consuming, but he would stick with it all night if necessary. He arranged them in groups. First, all those of the ribbon-like object. Then the green cloth, the rusty metal box and the ones of Dillon under water.

Those of Thornton were curious. If what he'd seen was accurate, Thornton was hiding safely behind the podium by the time the third shot was fired. The music and the singing voice still eluded him. He knew the voice but couldn't place it. He had no idea where the room with blue walls and gray carpet fit in any more than he did those of the ducks, but he put them in their own groups. Last, the images of Cindi, Cory, and Austin were pushed aside. With the arrangements done, he studied them again.

And again and again.

Hours later, with his second pot of coffee nearly gone, Adam rubbed his eyes and ran his fingers back through his hair, trying to relieve his weariness and frustration. The images still told him nothing. He decided on a new tactic -- a process of elimination.

First he discarded the strips of paper dealing with Cindi and the boys.

They were certainly of no value here. Next he tossed the ones of Dillon swimming under water. They had served their purpose and were of no further use. He spread the strangest ones of all, those of the ribbon-like object, in front of him. That's when he noticed something odd. The one of Austin surrounded by videotapes he had pulled from their cartridges had somehow become mixed with them. Adam reached for it to toss it away but stopped suddenly.

He stared at it for a few seconds, then sprang out of the chair and pumped his fist in the air. He paced the floor for several minutes.

Now that he had the key piece, the others began to fall in place. He looked at his watch. He dialed Dillon Corbin's home phone number. A sleepy sheriff answered after four rings. I posted the assignment sheet the same day. A body of water with ducks. Does that ring any bells?

What's this all about, Adam? Merle Haggard, Willie Nelson. What does music have to do with Walkerville, about twenty minutes away.

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Why all these questions, Adam? And why don't you bring her along. Dillon unlocked the front door, stepped inside and immediately stopped short. Adam and Judy quickly entered behind him. In the center of the room a sofa and chair had been overturned and slashed apart. Tables, lamps and wall decorations cluttered the floor.

Books, videotapes and framed pictures lay in scrambled heaps on the floor. Melvin Parsons' living room had been thoroughly ransacked. Dillon's alarm was quickly displaced by the instincts of a trained policeman. He drew his sidearm and held it in both hands, pointed at the ceiling. Judy did the same. Dillon stepped cautiously toward a hallway on the right. They would check the other rooms to see if the intruders were still there. Adam was not concerned about anyone being there, only if they had found what they were searching for, what he himself was now there to find.

He was also a little concerned that he would look very foolish if he did not find it.

Dillon and Judy returned to the living room within five minutes. The other rooms had been torn apart, but no one else was in the house. Judy said, "This wasn't looters, Dillon.

Someone was searching for something. What do you think, Adam? Adam was kneeling on the floor below the wall shelves, sorting through the piles of items that had once filled them. The question is, did they find it? Judy and Dillon watched curiously as Adam carefully worked his way through the piles.

The books and pictures he laid aside, but each time he found a video cassette, he picked it up, inspected it for a moment, then laid it aside also.

After several minutes he stood up, turned to them and shouted,. They didn't find it. They didn't know what to look for. Dillon walked over for a closer look. Willy Nelson's concert, the one he made after he got in trouble with the IRS over taxes. When you buy a blank cassette, the hole is covered by a plastic tab so you can record on it. When you buy a pre-recorded video like this one, they remove the tab so you can't record over what's on there. Unless you do what Uncle Bill did. He covered the hole with this tape so he could record something. Play the tape, Dillon. Judy and Adam carried chairs from the kitchen while Dillon got the tape started, and the three of them sat and watched Willy Nelson perform.

Adam didn't pay much attention. Instead, he thought about a tiny strip of paper he had almost discarded the night before along with the other family images. The one of little Austin sitting on the floor surrounded by videotape -- long, thin, black, ribbon-like strips of videotape -- coiled around him like a rope or snake. Just like the one that had mystified him in his images.

The TV screen went black for a few seconds before Melvin Parsons appeared, sitting on the sofa that was now reduced to trash. Stacks of papers lined a small table in front of him. Adam and Judy looked at Dillon. He seemed to be all right as his Uncle Bill began to speak.

Mysterical-e THE MISSING SNIPER

A few months ago I was going through some tax records in Tallahassee and stumbled on something that's going to shock the pants off you. Willy Thornton and his crowd are dirty, Dillon, about as dirty as you can get. What I found that day made me sick. You know I supported Willy all these years, but I couldn't ignore what I found.

You know how pig-headed I am. The more I looked, the more I found. They've been lining their own pockets for years. Melvin Parsons went on to cite names, dates, and amounts, holding up different sheets of paper as he did, of bribes, kickbacks, payoffs and rigged bids for construction projects all over the state. Adam was impressed with his thoroughness. After some thirty minutes of reciting details and showing supporting documents, Parsons' screen image said, "There's more, Dillon, lots more. All the proof, all these copies of tax records, bank statements, phone records and affidavits from people willing to testify, I keep stashed in the boathouse down by the lake.

It'll be in that old ammo box of mine, wrapped in my old Army blanket, under the floorboards of the boat house. Adam took a quick second to give Parsons a nod of thanks. He'd had absolutely no idea where the old green blanket and rusty metal box fit in. Someone in your department is involved in all this with them.

I don't know for sure who it is yet, but I will soon. That's when I'll have it all, and I'll bring it all out in the open. If anything happens to me you'll get that letter, and it'll tell you about this tape. If I can't finish what I started myself, I know you'll do what needs to be done. Then, "Well, I guess that covers it. This time, he had a devilish grin on his face as he said, "Oh, one more thing, Dillon. You go ahead and enjoy your dive and don't worry about a thing.

After I put all this back in the boat house, I'm going to get a good night's sleep so I can take real good care of ol' Willy at his speech tomorrow. Parsons rose from the sofa and moved off the screen. A moment later, the screen went black. He had shut off the camera. Willy Nelson reappeared on stage, bowing to a standing ovation from his adoring fans, and the tape came to an end.

The room was silent for several moments before Judy Wilson, her eyes welled with tears, said quietly, "He made that tape the night before he died. He didn't have time to write that letter to you, Dillon. If Adam hadn't found the tape, we might never have known about any of this. Adam looked at Dillon, who sat hunched forward with his elbows on his knees and his head down.

Judy reached over and touched his arm. You can remove the unavailable item s now or we'll automatically remove it at Checkout. Continue shopping Checkout Continue shopping. Chi ama i libri sceglie Kobo e inMondadori. The Missing Sniper by Earl Staggs. Buy the eBook Price: Available in Russia Shop from Russia to buy this item. Or, get it for Kobo Super Points! Adam quickly learns the sheriff is not telling him everything and finds himself involved in much more than he bargained for.

To figure it all out, Adam needs the help of a legendary singer, an old Army blanket, and a mischievous two-year-old with busy fingers. Ratings and Reviews 0 0 star ratings 0 reviews.

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