Blood and Justice (28 page)
Jake didn’t know what he was laughing at, but he smiled and said, “If I can get the footage from August 2nd, as well as August 10th, that would be perfect.”
“No probs.”
Gene whipped open a drawer and pulled out a flash drive. “This baby can hold a lot,” he said. He pushed the drive into a port on his desktop computer and hit a few keys. In about two minutes he pulled the drive out, snapped the top on, and handed it to Jake. “Voila. Finito.”
Jake took the drive, thanked him, and left.
He hurried down the steps, hopped in his car, and flew from the lot.
Jake didn’t want to waste the time going home, setting up their equipment, and try to fudge his way through the video by himself, so as he turned onto the street, he pulled out his cell phone. He punched a few keys, and then heard the phone dialing. He pinched it between his chin and shoulder, and waited.
“Jeremiah Everest.”
“Geekly, it’s Jake.”
“Jake, what’s up?”
“I need your help.”
“Sure. What can I do for you, my good man?”
Jake knew Geekly was always home. He ran a web design and computer consulting business from his home. It seemed like he never left his chair.
“I’m on my way over now. Do you have time to check out some video for me?”
“Sure do. Come on over.”
Jake hung up and tapped the brakes, swerving down a side street. He slapped the shifter into high gear and touched the gas again. A couple of lefts, and then a right, and he screeched to a stop in front of a row of townhouses.
He swung from the vehicle and ran up the steps of #633. The door opened as he approached it.
“Come on in, Jake.”
Jeremiah Everest was appropriately nicknamed Geekly, for obvious reasons. He looked the part. Hair down over his ears, a fruitless attempt at a goatee, true geek glasses, and a face that would’ve been enough on it’s own to spell “geek”, even without his other enhancements. He actually took great pride in his appearance, and loved his nickname.
Jake slapped him on the back and followed him in.
The whole house seemed to be his office. His desk was in the living room. There was no normal furniture around except an easy chair in the corner, facing a television set perched on a coffee table. The walls were lined with makeshift shelving containing computers, printers, and a variety of electronic stuff Jake didn’t recognize. His desk contained only a pair of monitors and a mouse. Off to the side, within easy reach of his chair, was a tower, and a shelf stuffed with DVDs, drives, mice, and cables.
Jake suspected even his bedroom had computer parts and other stuff lying around.
There was however, besides Geekly’s well-worn chair, one other that spun over toward Jake as Geekly gave it a shove.
“Have a seat, Jake. Let’s see what we have here.”
“Do you have a paper and pencil?” Jake asked.
“Paper. Who needs paper when I have a computer.” He chuckled and opened a drawer at the side of the desk. “Are these the obsolete items you were looking for?” he asked as he handed Jake a pad and pencil.
Jake laughed and scribbled down the dates and times he was interested in viewing. He handed Geekly the paper.
Geekly fitted the flash drive from Walmart into a slot on the tower. It a moment an icon appeared on his desktop. He glanced at the paper, and then double-clicked the video icon that appeared inside the drive. A window opened containing a video. A timestamp read midnight on the 10th of August. He made the video a little larger, and then dragged a small bar at the bottom of the window. The timestamp blurred. Spiegle had called in to dispatch at 5:02, so Geekly expertly maneuvered the bar until the timestamp read 4:30, and let it play.
The camera hadn’t been very close to the spot where Benny had said he found the car. The image was small and unclear. Jake saw the spot where the buggies were parked. He pointed to the screen. “The car would’ve been right about there.” He leaned forward and squinted. He thought he could vaguely make out a white Tercel in among other parked vehicles.
He looked at the timestamp. “Can you speed it up a bit?”
Geekly touched the keyboard and the video sped up to three or four times speed.
In a couple of minutes, Jake shouted, “Stop.”
Geekly stopped it, backed it up a bit, and played it forward in slow motion. A man could be seen bending down and looking in the window. In a few seconds, he climbed in the vehicle and pulled from the spot. Jake could now see the side view, and was certain that was the car. He looked at the timestamp. 4:52.
“Try the other drive. There should be two videos on it. Let’s see August 2nd,” Jake said.
Geekly tucked the other flash drive into another slot and repeated the process. The camera was still not close enough to make out details, but it showed a much better shot of the area in question. By comparing this video to the last one, Jake could narrow down the exact slot where the Tercel would be. The video started at midnight, August 2nd, and the slot was empty.
“We have no idea of the exact time, so can you play it at super fast speed?” Jake asked as he touched the screen. “Watch that spot. When a car appears there, that should be it.”
They watched.
The video was playing so fast, the car seemed to appear in the slot like magic. Geekly stopped the video, and then moved the bar back until the car disappeared, and then played it at normal speed.
Jake leaned in a little more.
Soon. “There it is!”
The Toyota came into camera range, turned into the slot, and stopped. Jake held his breath as someone climbed from the car, his face turned toward the camera.
“Stop!”
The video stopped.
“That’s him,” Jake said. “Can you enhance that?”
Geekly shook his head. “Nope. You can’t enhance a video in real life, only in the movies. You can’t see any information that doesn’t actually exist.”
Jake frowned.
Geekly said, “Have you ever looked at a TV screen from a few inches away? Everything is just a blurry mess, but if you sit back a few feet, it becomes clear.”
Jake cocked his head. “So . . .?”
“So,” Geekly said, “if I blow this up large on the screen, and then you stand over there by the wall, it’ll appear much clearer.”
Jake stood back a few feet while Geekly blew up the video until the face filled the monitor.
“I don’t believe it! Son of a . . .”
“You know who it is?”
“I sure do. Thanks Geekly, I owe you one,” he called as he ran toward the front door.
Two or three pedestrians spun around to stare as a bright red Firebird squealed and bunny hopped away from the curb, roaring from view of their startled eyes.
Monday, August 15th, 1:30 PM
IF THEY came looking for him, he had to be ready.
He pulled out the drawer by the sink and retrieved the knife sharpener. It made a gritty squawk as he drew it through each serration on the blade of his hunting knife, first one side, then the other. Again and again. He tested the blade with his finger. Perfect. He smiled grimly as he tucked it back into its sheath and dropped his pant leg.
He leaned down and slid open the drawer where he kept Father’s trusty 22. He lifted the towels and picked up the gun, caressing it lovingly, and thought of Father. He spun the cylinder, and then tucked it behind his belt buckle, next to his skin.
He hadn’t used Father’s old hunting rifle for some time. Not the same one Father had used to eliminate the dirtbag thief who had destroyed their lives many years ago. The police had kept that one, but his other one would do just fine.
He flicked on the basement light and went down the aging wooden steps. The stone-walled basement smelled musty, and the air was thin and damp.
He saw the gun rack hanging on the far wall. He walked over and lifted the semiautomatic off the rack, wiped the dust off with a cloth he found on a shelf, and then grabbed a handful of bullets from a box by the stand and dropped them in his pocket. The rifle had a 5-shot magazine, so he loaded it up from the box and carried it upstairs.
He went to the living room. It had a window facing the driveway. He opened it a crack and poked the barrel of the rifle through, testing the range, swinging the gun back and forth. From here, he would be able to see the whole front of the property. He wished the rifle had a scope, but he didn’t think there ever was one. He would just have to make do without it.
He couldn’t carry the rifle around with him everywhere he went, so he decided to leave it in the mudroom. He tucked it back out of sight on a low shelf of the workbench, where he could find it quickly, if necessary.
Digging on another shelf, he found a spike. About four inches long. That should do it. He picked a hammer off a hook on the wall above the bench, and went to the front door. He selected a spot and pounded the nail in, fastening the door securely to the frame. He stood back and smiled grimly.
Just one more thing to do. He went to the phone in the kitchen, grabbed the receiver and unplugged the cable, tucking it under some towels in a cupboard drawer.
He was anxious to get back to work. There were a lot more scumbags out there whom he needed to kill, and he didn’t want this distraction right now. Hopefully this would all blow over soon, and he could continue his task.
He didn’t even know for sure whether anyone would come. He knew Mrs. Lincoln was a filthy liar, but . . . just in case.
He went into the living room, dropped into his chair and thought for a while. There didn’t seem to be anything else he could do. He was as ready as he could be.
Suddenly he jumped up, went to the mudroom, retrieved the rifle from the workbench and brought it back to the living room. He dragged his chair closer to the front window and sat. He adjusted the location of the chair a few times until he was satisfied he had a clear view of the front of the property, and the driveway.
He sat back down and put the barrel of the rifle on the window ledge, the butt resting in his lap.
He watched, and waited.
Monday, August 15th, 2:22 PM
WHEN Jake left Geekly’s, he had a nagging suspicion. He grabbed his cell phone and dialed directory assistance. He wanted the number for Mortinos.
“May I speak to Jeremy please?”
“I’m sorry, Jeremy no longer works here.”
He was correct. His face was grim as he stabbed the phone, hanging it up.
He spun across oncoming traffic, making a left turn. He dialed another number.
“Hi, It’s Hank. Leave a message.”
He shook his head. He’ll have to leave a message.
“Hank, it’s Jake. I’m on my way to the Spencer house, out on County Road 12. Pretty sure Jeremy Spencer is the killer, and Annie is out there. Give me a call.”
He was traveling well over the speed limit now. He whipped past a couple of cars, spun around a few more turns, and then he was on County Road 12. He slowed down a bit. The road was too rough to do top speed, and he bumped and rattled around as he flew.
Soon, he was approaching the Spencer house. He pulled over about a hundred feet from the driveway, shut off the car, and jumped out.
There was a copse of trees between the road and the house. He climbed through the ditch and jumped the fence on the other side.
He crept cautiously into the trees. He advanced slowly. Soon he could see the house. He crouched down and studied it a moment. No movement.
Keeping as low as possible, he edged forward, stopping often to listen and watch. A few birds chirped, hidden somewhere in the trees above. A squirrel skittered up a tree and rustled in the branches above his head. All was otherwise still and quiet.
He edged forward a bit more.
A rifle shot broke the silence, and echoed as he heard the smack of a bullet slam into the tree beside his head.
He heard another shot, as he dropped flat and lay still, out of sight of the shooter.
He never thought being an investigator would lead to being shot at, and he vowed to get a gun. If he got out of this alive.
Crawling on his stomach, he backtracked until he was out of sight of the house, almost at the road again, and then crouching and keeping low, he skirted around the edge of the copse, until he was parallel with the side of the house.
There was a pair of windows in the side of the house, and he watched them carefully for a few moments. He saw no movement. Satisfied, he dashed toward the building, expecting at any moment to hear a shot, and feel a bullet rip into him. None did.
He reached the wall safely, and leaned back against it, catching his breath.
He dug out his cell and hit speed dial.
“No Signal.”
He shook his head and shoved it back into his pocket.
He needed to formulate a plan. Annie had said she was going to talk to Jeremy. He was sure now she’d come here. He had to find her, or her body. He winced at the thought, and it made him more determined.
He had to find Jeremy. The shooter was at the front of the house. Should he go that way and surprise him, or possibly go around the back way, and through the house. He wasn’t sure, however, whether the shooter was on the lower level, or upstairs.
He decided to go around to the back of the house. He tried desperately to calm his anxiety, and control his anger.
Keeping against the wall, he moved slowly along. He glanced around the back corner. All clear.
He rounded the corner and crept along, and then crouched down under a window. He slowly raised his head and peeked inside. It was a small room, maybe a den, or office. He could see across the room and through a doorway, into the kitchen, but nobody seemed to be around.
The back door was just a few feet ahead. A couple of slow steps and he was in front of it. There was no window in the door. He tested the knob and it turned in his hand. It was unlocked.
He eased open the door a few inches and listened. He heard nothing, so he pushed it further, stepping to the side. The door creaked open.