Morgan shook her head, “That’s going to require a lot of work and equipment we don’t have.”
“Who does?” Riles asked.
“The BCA,” Morgan replied. “Jupiter Jones is the man we need.”
“Jupiter,” Mac added, nodding and smiling. “He’s definitely what we need.”
Jupiter Jones was a longtime friend of Mac. He had met Jupiter in a computer science class at the University of Minnesota. While Mac went on to major in business and criminal justice, Jupe kept up on the computer studies. He was a computer genius.
Jupiter and a math wizard friend of his had started a little computer software business after college. Jupiter developed an intelligence program that helped businesses determine what their customers bought, when they bought it and how much they would spend. His math wizard friend was able to add mathematical equations to the program. Within five years of his graduation, Jupe’s little company had grown to one hundred-fifty employees. However, running the business required long hours and business acumen he didn’t have or really care to develop. He sold the company for sixty million dollars, which he and his partner split. After taking care of many of their employees with severance packages, they each walked away with twenty million. Jupe didn’t need to work.
What Jupiter had done since he sold his business was explore what could be done with computers and video. He had started another small business that developed programs to convert video into numerous uses, but it didn’t eat up a lot of his time. So, to keep busy, he also worked freelance for the Minnesota Bureau of Criminal Apprehension, helping when computer and video skills were needed. Now was such a case.
Mac looked at his watch, 3:40 a.m. “Jupiter’s going to love this,” he said as he dialed him up. Jupiter answered on the third ring.
“Whoever this is,” a sleep-slurred voice said, “it better be good.”
“Still wearing Tough Skins?”
Silence on the other end for a moment. “Mac?”
“Jupe, I need a big favor. I need it right now, and I think you can help me.”
“With what?”
“Identifying a serial killer.”
The Minnesota Bureau of Criminal Apprehension (BCA) was located on Maryland Avenue, just north of downtown St. Paul. Jupiter, who lived half an hour away, arrived to find Mac and Riles waiting in the lobby with coffee and a bag of donuts. A smallish man with messy, blondish hair and round glasses, he looked like the computer geek he was.
“This’ll challenge all of your skills, Jupe,” Mac said.
“Hmpf,” Jupe snorted. “We’ll see about that,” he replied cockily as he unlocked the door into a computer and video lab. Jupe slung a bag off of his shoulder.
“What’s in there?” Riles asked, pointing at the bag.
“Some of my own equipment. From what you said on the phone, we might need to independently upgrade the state’s equipment to flesh this out.” He gave a knowing wink.
Mac handed Jupiter the DVD, and Jupiter put it into his computer drive. He pulled the image up and watched the key section a few times. He kept playing it back and forth.
“Well. It’s awfully grainy, but I might be able to clean it up some.”
“How quickly, Jupe?”
“It’ll take some time.”
“How much?” Mac pressed.
“Not sure, buddy. Gimme me six, maybe eight hours, and we’ll have a better idea. It’s very grainy, and it is from a long, long,
They looked at the video. Jupiter pointed, “See, there’s a little shading there. I don’t think you’ll get the left side of the plate. But I might be able to get something off the right side.”
“Thanks, Jupe,” Mac said yawning.
“You boys are free to sack out here,” Jupe pointed to some cots stacked in a corner.
“Thanks, man, I owe ya.”
“You kidding, Mac? I live for this shit.”
Jupiter sat down and started to go to work. Mac and Riles looked at one another and their watches-5:25 a.m. They lifted down a couple cots from the corner.
“The state, always providing plush accommodations,” Riles muttered.
Mac woke up startled, momentarily trying to get his bearings. “Oh, yeah, I’m at the BCA,” he groaned, yawning and scratching his head. He looked at his watch 12:05 p.m. Holy cow, he’d slept awhile. He woke up to find the computer screen showing a program running but no Jupiter. Pat was still sleeping, and Mac let him keep going. Sleep had been hard to come by for Riles as of late.
Just then Jupe came back in, carrying a tray of coffee and some sandwiches. Mac grabbed one of each, and Jupe quietly explained how he had been breaking down the frame that had the best view of the van’s plate. He had then been working the area of the picture where they could see the license plate. He was refining the picture, trying to get the most out of the pixels. The last picture showed the plate, and Jupe had been right. They would only be able to see the right side of the plate, which was usually numbers. Right now it was still very blurry, three black, squarish blobs on the screen.
“The program I’m running it through now should clean it up as good as I can do anyway,” which was probably as good as anyone could do. “Should take another twenty minutes or so.”
Mac took a bite of his sandwich and looked the picture over. Riley started to come alive, rolling off the cot, smelling the coffee and sandwiches. “Anything?” he asked anxiously.
“Not yet,” Mac replied.
“We’ll know soon,” Jupe added.
They talked for twenty minutes. Jupe was interested in the Daniels case, and Mac gave him the run down. Jupe asked about women, and Mac gave him the scoop on Sally.
“She sounds like a nice gal,” Jupe said.
“Yeah, she is.”
They talked a little longer about nothing in particular. Finally Jupe said, “Let’s see what we have.” Jupiter maneuvered the mouse and opened a program, and there it was.
It was still a little fuzzy, but it wasn’t numbers. They had letters, and they were clear enough to Mac, “F-M- G.”
“That’s odd” Riles said, “These are reversed.”
Mac looked a little closer. He was right; the numbers should be on the left side, “Looks like maybe we can make out a number there.”
“What is it?” Jupe said, squinting at the picture.
“It’s a five or a six I think,” Riles said, also squinting.
Mac took a closer look at the upper right-hand corner of the picture. Along the top of the license plate, above the letters, was what looked like a grainy circle with a house or, wait, the angling of the roof? Mac pointed to it, “Riles, what you make of this?”
Riles looked, moving his head closer and squinting at the screen, “Those ain’t pine trees.”
“Yeah, looks like a barn and a farm scene,” Mac replied, and added, “and the letters are on the right side.”
“What in the hell are you guys talking about?” Jupe asked.
Riles and Mac smiled at each other and then looked at Jupe, uttering in unison, “Wisconsin.”
