“Our system stores all the films taken inside the casino over a thirty-day period,” Riddle explained. “I just fed the images of these ladies into the hard drive, and asked the system to find identical images that might be stored in its memory banks.”
A new film appeared on his computer screen. On it, Sara and her friends were standing at the Hard Rock’s entrance, and Amber was wagging her finger in the face of a small man wearing khaki shorts, a faded T-shirt, and a baseball cap. It was Mouse.
“That’s the stalker,” I said.
I placed my face a few inches from the screen and lip-read. Amber was telling Mouse to leave them the hell alone. Mouse held his arms out innocently while shaking his head like he didn’t understand. Finally he shrugged and walked out the door.
“Want me to see if there are any more films of this guy?” Riddle asked.
“Yes,” I said.
Riddle checked the system, and came up empty.
“That’s the only film of him inside the casino,” Riddle said.
My spirits sagged. The film proved nothing that I didn’t already know. It wasn’t anything I could take to the police to prove my case. Feeling defeated, I looked over my shoulder at Valentine to see if he had any ideas.
“What about films of this guy outside the casino?” Valentine asked.
“There’s an idea,” Riddle said.
Riddle typed another command into the keyboard. The bread from his sandwich was gone, and he was now feeding Buster pieces of meat. The dog sat at stiff attention by Riddle’s desk, avoiding eye contact with me.
“The casino is required to film the grounds in case we get sued for a slip and fall,” Valentine said. “It’s a pain in the ass, but the insurance companies won’t cover us if we don’t. I’m guessing this guy had a vehicle, which might have been picked up by one of the cameras on the side of the building. Maybe we can get his license plate.”
“That would be great,” I said.
“Here we go,” Riddle said.
A film appeared on the computer screen showing the Hard Rock’s enormous parking lot. Mouse appeared, walking toward the back of the lot.
“There he is,” I said.
Mouse’s vehicle was parked in the last row. It was the same stolen maroon Ford minivan he’d been driving when he’d abducted Sara.
“Shit,” I said.
“What’s wrong?” Valentine asked.
“The vehicle he’s driving was stolen. He and his partner already dumped it.”
“So getting the license plate won’t do you any good.”
“No.”
My eyes were starting to hurt from staring at the screen, and I wearily rubbed them. There was no greater frustration than chasing down a lead, only to find that it was a dead end. I clicked my fingers, and Buster reluctantly left his spot beside Riddle’s chair.
“Thanks for your help,” I said.
“Sorry it didn’t pan out,” Valentine said. “I’ll show you out.”
I followed Valentine across the surveillance control room. Riddle stared at his computer, oblivious to my leaving. He pointed an accusing finger at the screen.
“Whoa! Take a look at this.”
I hurried back to his desk. The film of Mouse in the parking lot was still playing. Mouse stood by the minivan along with two poorly dressed men holding knives. Mouse handed his wallet to them, then slipped off his watch and one of his rings.
“It’s a stick-up,” Riddle said. “These two guys have robbed patrons before.”
“You know them?” I asked.
“They’re a couple of crackheads. They hide in the bushes at night, and rob people leaving the casino. We’ve tried to catch them, but never had any luck.”
I watched Mouse hand over his jewelry. One of the crackheads pointed at the minivan. Mouse unlocked the rear door and stepped back.
Both crackheads stuck their heads into the back of the minivan. As if being sucked by a giant vacuum, they were pulled inside. As they struggled helplessly, their weapons and loot fell to the ground. One lost a shoe. Although the tape had no audio, I could almost hear their screams.
“What was that? ” Riddle asked.
“Your crackhead thieves just got the tables turned on them,” I said.
“I saw that. But what was that thing inside the minivan?”
I wanted to tell him, only I’d grown tired of telling a story that no one believed. On the screen, I saw Mouse close the minivan door, and retrieve his belongings from the ground. He got behind the wheel and drove away.
“I need a copy of this, as well as the surveillance tape inside the casino,” I said.
“Right now?”
“Please.”
Riddle burned two copies of each film and handed me the CDs. I slipped them into my pocket.
“Tell me what was in the back of the minivan,” Riddle said. “If you don’t, I’m going to have nightmares about that thing.”
“It was a bad guy with a bad attitude.”
“But he looked like a monster.”
“He is a monster.”
Valentine was waiting on the other side of the room. As I followed him out, I glanced over my shoulder. Riddle had rewound the film taken in the casino parking lot, and was watching it again. The look on his face told me that he believed me.
CHAPTER 16
Valentine walked me to the casino’s entrance. We shook hands, and he handed me his business card. It said Grift Sense and had a phone number.
“Call me if you need me,” Valentine said.
I pocketed his card. “I will.”
Valentine reached down and petted the top of Buster’s head.
“I like your pup. Is he much trouble?”
“Him? Never.”
I walked outside. The afternoon sunshine was blinding, and there was no breeze. The sunshine felt good on my skin, and I headed toward the back of the parking lot with the heat rising through my sandals.
I was sweating by the time I found the spot where Mouse had been mugged. It was in the very rear of the lot, near a stand of bushes. I searched the ground for anything that might have been dropped.
Buster hit the bushes with his nose to the ground. He reappeared with a sneaker in his mouth. I made him drop the sneaker into my hand, and he took several excited steps back, hoping I’d throw it.
“Good boy.”
I examined the sneaker. It was made by Reebok and was missing its laces. It was old, but not dirty. It looked like something a homeless person might wear, and I found myself wondering if it had belonged to one of the crackhead robbers.
I walked to my Legend holding the shoe at arm’s length. It stunk to high heaven, and I unlocked the passenger door, and threw it on the floor. I made Buster get into the passenger side, which he happily did.
The neighborhoods around the Hard Rock were upper middle class. I drove down their narrow streets with my windows down. Buster was good at picking up scents, and I was hoping he’d pick up the shoe’s scent in one of the neighborhoods. Mouse wasn’t stupid, and I had a feeling he’d gotten rid of the crackheads quickly.
