and time stamps are in the lower right-hand corner. Do you need me to leave?"
"No, actually stay, if you would." Brock handed the remote to Kallie. "Have you been working here long?"
"My old man owns the place. I handle all the security feeds. Most of the time it's quiet. I study and get paid. Every now and then the bar starts hopping. The back rooms are...interesting."
"Back rooms?" Kallie paused the feed.
"Yep. The more affluent clientele pay for private rooms in the back. There have been some raunchy parties back there. Consensual, and usually with professional ladies who come in through the back, but yeah, the rich are just as fucked up as the rest of us."
"Is this feed going to show us the back rooms?"
"Nope. It would help if I knew who you were looking for." The kid pushed his glasses up his nose again.
"Samuel Treyson."
"Ah, that would be the Ivory Room." The kid sat down and started typing on a keyboard. "They meet once a month. Nothing wild there. Just a bunch of friends getting together and swapping war stories. Well, financial conquests would be more their style." He pointed to another screen. "There you go."
He stared at the kid. "Does your clientele know you monitor them?"
The young man shrugged. "We post the proper surveillance notifications. We aren't breaking any laws." Cory crossed his arms over his chest. "We don't record the sound, just the video. I have audio wired into this office so I can have people respond quickly if necessary."
Kallie pushed play on the feed. "You can fast forward if you want." The guy leaned over and pointed to the correct button. Kallie hit it and the men in the room scurried around like ants. She hit play again as soon as Samuel Treyson walked into the room. "Sucks that he got himself killed. That guy was a class act." Cory watched the video with them. It seemed as if Treyson was well liked.
"Freeze that for a minute, would you? Who are the rest of the men in the room?" Brock motioned to the screen.
"Well, that is Richard Emerson, that guy with the grey scarf, he's Skip Chastain. I think the one there is Pierce Willington, but it might be his twin brother Preston. I don't know who that man is… wait, that one over there that's Clive Hollingsworth." Kallie started the feed again and the man continued to list off names as men entered and exited the room.
"Wait." Brock snapped his fingers and pointed to Treyson. He had his phone to his ear and had moved to a corner away from the long table in the middle of the room and the men who were laughing and drinking. Samuel glanced at his watch and then over at the people he was with. A frown stretched across his face and he shook his head.
“He does not look happy. Oh, there. He made another call. Time stamp on the calls?"
"6:24 p.m. and 6:27 p.m." Kallie glanced down at her book
He pointed to the monitor. "Can I get a copy of this?"
"Sure, hang on. I can send it to your email or float it to your cloud if you can give me the correct address to route it."
Like he'd know that? "Ah… I'd prefer a thumb drive."
"Damn, old school, okay. Hold on." Cory opened several drawers before he found a small silver tube. "Eureka."
"Walks like a duck and talks like a duck...." Kallie bumped into him and let her body linger against his as she looked up at him and mouthed, “Boomer”.
He leaned into her, intending on giving her shit, but... damn. Wisps of her hair had loosened from that tight braid and softly fell across her cheek. The glow of the monitors illuminated her eyes. They stared at each other, and he knew she was right there with him. The chemistry between them was off the charts. Fuck him, she looked edible, and he was suddenly starving. Ravenous.
Brock tore his eyes away when Cory removed the flash drive from the computer with a flourish. "Here you go. From 6:00 p.m. until the waiter turned off the light at 9:30." Cory handed him the drive.
He reached to his inside his coat pocket and produced a small evidence bag. He opened it and had Cory drop it in. It took the work of seconds to seal and initial the bag. He had Kallie initial as witness and gave Cory a receipt for the property. "You realize I don't need or