In a moment, she's right beside a black-haired man with a military bearing posed by the window with the rifle, hands slowly dipping down as he moves to put it back in the case, a buisness-like momentary resignation in his eyes. 

The room itself is sparse, with little more then a shoved aside bed and dresser, and the rifle's case by his side. 

Hailey's wand blurs through a flick-jab.

A bolt of red light flashes across the gap, too fast for any unenhanced human to react to, catching him in the chest.

There's a slight flinch from the sound of her appearing before him before he buckles, flopping bonelessly to the ground with a heavy thud.

Brill. She can search him later, time to make sure nobody else is trying to finish the bloody job.

She seals the door to this room, then apparates back to the balcony, immediately shielding herself again. Any other suspicious movement, any other glints of gunmetal or such? Anyone abruptly fleeing the scene in a coconspiratorial fashion?

Nope. Just the ordinary buzz and the not-so-ordinary panic and ambient worry from the sound of the shots. 

Okay good. Back to the shooter. Conjure black latex gloves, put 'em on, check for ID. Who is this bloody bastard?

'David Johnson', apparently, according to an FBI badge stowed in his pocket.

Bloody hell. That's going to be a right bloody mess. Back into his pocket it goes, and then she unseals the door and pops back to the balcony. Unseal the door and window, and knock on the motel room door.

"Doctor King, the situation is resolved for now. It should be safe to come out."

Hailey takes a few minutes to talk with Dr. King, explaining what she knows about the situation and providing what recommendations she can: the shooter was FBI, she has no idea if the local PD is trustworthy, she recommends getting the media involved to prevent a cover-up and sourcing bodyguards from someone he trusts. She declines to identify herself as anything more than a concerned admirer, and an agent of a group he likely won't hear from again.

With deep solemnity, he thanks her, thanks God for sending her, and wishes her well. 

"It's been an honor to meet you, Dr. King, and to help how I can. Stay safe."

As she bids him farewell, a soft corona of sunlight slowly seeps into the air around her, lifting her up and carrying her away like a stream of sunlight hid again behind the clouds.