The Dangerous Edge of Things - By Tina Whittle Page 0,50
it was a cathartic empty. No more secrets. I couldn’t handle this mess by myself.
I watched him talking with the other policemen, making a tight official knot with them. When he returned, he wore a strange expression. “You said you knew nothing about the security system?”
“Right.”
“And that the camera was just a decoy, hadn’t worked in years?”
“Right again.”
He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “In that case, you really need to talk to Eric. And Trey. Because not only was that camera live, it was Phoenix issue.”
Chapter 26
The next morning came in the afternoon. I’d crawled into bed just before six and slept like I’d been drugged, finally dragging myself into the shower a little after noon. One café mocha and a half a cigarette later, I was driving to Phoenix with a mission in mind. My mission was thwarted, however, by Phoenix’s own Cerberus at the gate—Yvonne.
“Mr. Seaver is out of the office,” she said. “If you’d like to leave a message—”
“Where is he?”
“I’m sorry, but—”
A voice behind me cut the argument in half. “He’s at the gym, teaching a karate workshop.”
I whirled around to face Steve Simpson. To my astonishment, he wore a suit and tie and real shoes, and his unruly curls had been tamed into something like a hair style.
“What gym?”
“The one across the street. He’ll be back in an hour. He always is.”
I peered closer at Steve’s tie. It was bright green, with dollar signs in the paisley pattern. “You’re tech support, right?”
He looked suspicious. “Yeah. Why?”
“Forget Trey. You’ll do.”
***
Steve’s office was an extravagant mess. It smelled metallic and dusty, and stacks of DVDs and surplus computer parts covered every flat surface. There was no window, and very little fresh air. I didn’t bother finding a place to sit.
“Did you install the security system in my shop? Dexter’s Guns and More?”
Steve removed a six-pack of Coca Cola from his chair. “The one in Kennesaw? Yeah, I remember. Why?”
My temper flared. “Why wasn’t I informed?”
“Hey, I just wire things, I don’t do paperwork. You’ll have to talk to Mr. Premises Liability about that.”
Back to Trey again. I turned to go, and Steve called after me, “Don’t run off. I have something you might be interested in.”
I stopped. “You’re throwing bait.”
“Are you biting?”
“Depends. What do you have?”
He waggled a DVD. “Hot-off-the-press copy of the security camera footage at Beau Elan.”
“The one they mentioned in the meeting, the alibi footage?”
“The same. I’m supposed to demux it and make copies for the higher ups, Trey included. Which he will share, of course. Because Phoenix agents are such sharing people—”
“Just show me.”
“Shut the door.” He slid the disc into his computer and patted the edge of his seat.
I sat thigh to thigh with him, wary but curious. “Why are you showing me this?”
“Consider it a favor.”
“Meaning I owe you one?”
“Exactly.”
He tapped at the keyboard. I squinted at the blur of static. “I don’t see anything.”
“Hence the demux. It’s four channels merged into one, see? But watch this.”
He tapped again, and the images sorted themselves into a neat foursquare grid. Each screen looked exactly like I’d expected—low-resolution footage of cars coming and going, date and time information scrolling in the lower right hand corner.
“This one tracks the front gate,” he said and clicked on the upper right-hand quadrant, fast forwarding to twelve-thirty. Sure enough, there was the white Phoenix van rolling in. I couldn’t see Steve, however, only Trey and Landon.
“I was in the back,” Steve said. “Now nothing much happens until…”
The recorded images sped up, then Steve hit stop. He pointed at the screen. “See, that’s Charley right there, in the Mercedes with the tinted windows.”
Yes, absolutely Charley Beaumont, her black hair loose about her shoulders, her eyes hidden behind impenetrable sunglasses. She wasn’t smiling. Her car window slid back up, and she disappeared behind the dark glass.
“This is about five. Now we just go forward an hour until…right there.”
I watched as the same car rolled out of the gate. Only this time Charley wasn’t alone.
“That looks like Landon.”
“It is. She took him back to his car at Phoenix, where he left for your brother’s house. Okay, go forward until six-thirty and you’ll see Trey and me leaving in the van. Well, you’ll see the van, no faces. But he can vouch for me.”
I checked out the other squares. “So is there any footage of a black SUV?”
“Nope.”
“What about a blue pick-up?”
“You mean Bulldog? No dice. The camera caught him sneaking past the gate Wednesday night, on foot,