newspaper and greeted me with a languid smile.
As he glanced halfheartedly at my FBI badge, I asked him if I could see the sign-in sheet for the video camera. “Sure,” he said.
“But it’s empty. You’re the first guy interested in this thing.”
“Can I see the camera then?”
“Camera, yeah,” he said with a touch of sarcasm. “I’ll show you the video camera.” Obviously Kernigan didn’t believe it was a camera either. He pushed himself to his feet and led me past two narrow hallways to the storage room for current, unsolved cases. I saw the device sitting on the table beside a large duffel bag-the same kind of bag I’d seen the man carrying at the site of John Doe’s suicide.
A thick, foam protective wrap lay beside the duffel bag. I figured Kernigan had unwrapped the device when he checked it in.
The device that the impound guys thought was a video camera didn’t look like any video camera I’d ever seen. It had a digital display screen, laser targeting, radioactive stickers. I didn’t know how it worked, or what it did, but someone thought it was important enough to kill to get, and that was enough for me.
Officer Kernigan stood beside me, stared at it, and then shook his head. “Darndest thing I ever saw.”
The facts of the case were folding in on themselves like a great origami figure. I just wished I could guess what the final shape would look like.
“Can I have a few minutes?” I asked him.
“Take as much time as you like. Stay all afternoon if you want.”
He gave the device one last lingering glance and tossed his newspaper onto the table beside it. “I get off at five-thirty, though. Shift change. Just be done by then ‘cause I gotta lock up back here. Do me a favor and stick it back in the bag when you’re through.”
“Thanks, I will.” Then he returned to the front desk.
I needed to make a decision. This device was stolen from a secure military base, but, as far as anyone else knew, it had been destroyed in the fire. The only other person who knew it had been removed from the base was Austin Hunter, and he was dead.
No one else had signed in to look at it yet, but I knew that a lot of people would be looking for this thing. Most likely the military, maybe people from Drake Enterprises.
Maybe the men from Monday night.
And Shade, whoever he was.
It might be good to see who comes searching for it first…
I set my laptop up in the corner of the room, turned on the video chat camera and the computer’s digital video recorder. Even after the screen went to sleep, the built-in camera would continue recording. With the amount of battery life and memory on my computer, I could take six to eight hours of video if I needed to. I didn’t think any visitors would be suspicious of a computer in the corner of the room, nor would they notice the tiny display light indicating that the camera was on.
Before putting the screen to sleep, I changed the computer’s system settings to allow me to remotely access the hard drive through the Internet. This way I’d be able to run any of my programs even if I wasn’t able to retrieve the computer from the evidence room until evening.
Then, so that we wouldn’t lose track of the device again, I decided to hide it in plain sight… so to speak.
Wearing latex gloves, I carefully wrapped it in the newspaper Officer Kernigan had discarded beside me and then slid it behind a dusty box of evidence from a 1984 grand theft auto case. I needed to put something back into the black duffel bag but didn’t want to compromise the evidence from another case, so I rooted around in the drawers and the custodial closet of the evidence room, found a roll of duct tape, and set to work.
72
2:11 p.m.
Fifteen minutes later, when I arrived at the third floor conference room, I was pretty certain Margaret’s 2:00 meeting would have started already, but something had delayed them and they were still waiting to begin.
Oh, I was overjoyed.
Detective Dunn was sitting at the table, along with Lien-hua, two agents from yesterday’s meeting, and Lieutenant Aina Mendez, who’d probably come because of the connection between Cassandra’s abduction and the fire on the base. Officer Geoff Rickman stood in the corner talking with a man wearing a lieutenant’s badge. I suspected he might be Graysmith.
I took a seat, and a few moments later Ralph entered and settled into the chair beside me. “Well,” he said quietly. “How did it go with Tessa?”
“About as well as I expected.”
“She at the airport?”
“Yeah.” I glanced at my watch. “In fact, the plane’s probably boarding right about now. She’s got a layover in L.A. so she won’t get to Denver until almost seven o’clock tonight. I guess I’ll talk to her then.”
“Her bags’ll probably end up in Europe.”
“Maybe.”
“Good luck with all that. Let me know how things work out.”
“I will.”
I noticed that Officer Rickman wore his watch on his right wrist, and when he sat down, he picked up his pen with his left hand. The discarded leather glove at the arson site was from a left-handed person… Aina mentioned that a police officer’s prints had been found on it… I saw Ralph’s eyes shift toward the door, and then I heard Margaret enter, her heels clattering over top of, and then taking over, the quiet conversations happening all around the room.
I would have to follow up on Rickman later.
Margaret chose to stare at me while the people around us took their seats. “Dr. Bowers,” she said, her teeth gleaming. “FBI Director Rodale told me all about your tactfulness in dealing with the SDPD.
Congratulations. You’ve kept your reputation firmly intact.”
“Thanks, Margaret. I’ve been listening to these self-help podcasts.
It’s good to know they’re paying off. If you ever want to know the link, just say the word.”
She drew in a tight breath, looked at the clock on the wall, and then strode to the head of the table. Cleared her throat. “We have a lot to do, and we don’t have a lot of time to do it.” She paused and gazed around the room like an irritated librarian until everyone had stopped shuffling papers and had turned their attention to her.
“So far the only thing tying Neville Lewis to Cassandra Lillo’s abduction is his presence in the vicinity of the crime. But as you know, that’s not enough. In order to get a conviction we’ll need either incontrovertible eyewitness testimony, a confession, or ir-refutable physical evidence.”
“Cassandra doesn’t want to testify,” Lien-hua said. “She doesn’t even want to look at a lineup. She was quite traumatized. I’m not convinced she’s going to change her mind.”
“Without Cassandra we don’t have an eyewitness,” grumbled Detective Dunn.
“Wait, maybe we do,” I said. “Let’s bring in the woman who led us to the warehouse. Randi. Let’s talk to her.”
Ralph spoke up, “We’ve been trying to find her. Surprise, surprise, she seems to have disappeared.” “All right,” said Margaret impatiently, “we’ll work on that, but for now let’s move on to confession. Mr. Lewis says he’s afraid to talk to the police.”
Dunn grinned. “Of course he is. He knows if he talks to us we’ll get the truth from him and send him away to a prison full of guys who are always thrilled to have new mates to play with.”
“No, Detective,” Margaret said. “You missed my point. His lawyers say he doesn’t trust the police for his safety, that after he was in their custody at the warehouse, they failed to protect him.”
She glared at Lien-hua. Something passed between them. “They say that after he was cuffed and read his rights, one of the federal agents assaulted him. His lawyers brought in a doctor who says he has a bruised rib.”
