Now that we had the exact time Gina had been at Chicken Shack, we were able to immediately catch her on the counter footage. She handed the cashier her money and received a white paper bag in exchange. I couldn’t believe our bad luck when nobody entered the restaurant with her. “Damn him. That guy is as slippery as a fish.”
Frank grumbled. “But a lot smarter than one. Let’s check the front door camera.”
I switched over to camera two and tapped in the time just like Rebecka had earlier. We saw Gina pull open the door, and the sleeve of a gray sweatshirt appeared on camera next to her. I pointed. “That’s him, gray sweatshirt and all. Come on. Show your face.”
We watched as Gina disappeared into the restaurant alone and was back out several minutes later. Other than his sleeve, nothing of the killer ever showed up on either camera.
I groaned into my hands. “I can’t even believe this shit.”
“I’ll call Shawn and tell him to stop searching. The only thing that could help would be a corner camera, and I didn’t see any when we walked by.”
We returned to the precinct after another failed attempt to see the man’s face. Our best chance would still be the doorbell camera, and that meant waiting until morning to call for a warrant in case it was needed, and we would ask the company if they had her camera feed stored in the cloud. It also meant Gina wouldn’t be found that night.
Lutz joined us in the bullpen. Our night crew had already arrived, and we’d just finished updating them on our lack of success in seeing the killer’s face.
With a grunt, Lutz dropped down on my guest chair. “I aired the sketch on the news, anyway. There’s nothing else we can do until we see his face on the doorbell footage, but if somebody does recognize him from his side view—or at least they think they do—the night shift guys can follow up on those leads.” Bob stood and straightened my guest chair. “Go home, have a decent dinner, and get some rest. Tomorrow, we’ll hit the ground running. We’ll know who he is before noon.”
I hoped Lutz was right, but the pain I felt over what Gina could be going through, and the anxiety Frank was likely feeling, sickened me.
I walked Frank to his truck, and he climbed in.
“I don’t want to go home and sit there alone. My mind will be racing all night,” he said.
“Then come to my house. I do have a guest room, you know. We’ll order a pizza, drink a few beers, and discuss our tactics for tomorrow. We’ll find Gina, and she’ll be okay. I can feel it in my gut.”
Later that night, we had polished off an extra-large pepperoni pizza, downed a six-pack of beer, and did a lot of planning. Lutz would call for the warrant first thing in the morning, then I’d contact Safe Home Security Systems. The warrant would get us the video feed we needed from yesterday, and we’d have the killer staring at the camera, right in front of us. Then Lutz would contact every news channel and get his face front and center on TVs across the city. Somebody would recognize him and call the tip line. We’d find out where he was holed up and make the arrest, but of course that was the best case scenario and I didn’t want to think about the worst.
“The one thing we don’t want is a hostage situation,” Frank said. “We have to weigh our options before we go in with guns blazing.”
I was glad that Frank was finally thinking rationally. The killer needed to be apprehended but not at the risk of Gina’s safety. I prayed that she was still alive, and although Frank gave off the air of being a rough-and-tough cop, I knew he was praying for her safety too.
After cleaning up the table, I started down the hallway. “Go on to bed, pal. I’m beat. There are clean towels in the guest bathroom.”
“Thanks, Jesse. I’ll probably be gone before you in the morning. Gotta stop at home and change my clothes.”
I gave him a head tip before closing my bedroom door. Bandit had already claimed his spot at the foot of the bed. “Good enough. See you in the morning.”
After a full night’s sleep without a call to a crime scene, I woke up feeling refreshed. We would catch the killer that day and bring Gina home to her apartment. At least that was the plan, but I knew after being a cop for nearly thirteen years, anything could upset the apple cart—and usually did.
The scent of freshly brewed coffee filled my nose as I walked down the hall with Bandit on my heels. I turned the corner into the kitchen, half expecting to see Frank at the table, but nobody was there. A sound outside caught my attention, and I crossed the living room to see what it was. I twisted the wand on the blinds, and saw Frank backing his truck out of the driveway.
I chuckled. “Thanks for making the coffee before you left, buddy, and you really need to replace that muffler.” I returned to the kitchen and poured myself a cup. “Hungry, Bandit?” I grinned when he sat up and begged. “You’re one smart dog, dog.” After giving him a scratch behind the right ear, I filled his bowl and headed to the shower.
Traffic was a nightmare that morning, not unusual for a Friday, but luckily, I still made it to work before roll call. We would have a busy day, and I was raring to go. I was surprised to see that Frank hadn’t arrived yet but chalked it up to traffic on his end too.
As I walked to the roll call room with my colleagues, my cell phone vibrated in my pocket. The screen told me it was Frank, and I assumed his truck had broken down or something of that nature. I held back while the others continued on.
“What’s up? You’re late for roll call.”
“Jesse, he was here.”
“Who was?”
“The killer. He was at my house.”
I heard the concern in Frank’s voice. “How do you know? Tell me everything, and are you still there?”
“Yep, I’m here, and chances are he’s watching me.”
“Jesus, Frank!”
Frank continued. “I walked out my front door to leave, and there was a box on my porch. It wasn’t there when I got home earlier, so what does that mean? Was he watching your house and then followed me home?”
I paced the hallway. “Hell if I know. What’s in the box? Did you open it?”
Frank let out a slow breath through the phone line and I was sure I heard his voice crack.
“It’s Gina’s ponytail. He enclosed a note in the box, too, that says I’m in a race against time.”
“Damn it! Insinuating what?”
“I don’t know, but I assume it’s about how long Gina lives. That’s all he wrote. I imagine there’s more clues to come. He’s toying with us, and what he sent so far is probably meant to unhinge me.”
“Sounds like it, but how does he know that you’re close to Gina?”
“I don’t have those answers, partner.”
“Okay, sit tight. We don’t know if he monkeyed with your truck, so don’t leave the house. We’re coming to you. I’ll call you back when we’re en route. And Frank?”
“Yeah?”
“Keep your gun at the ready.” I hung up and raced to the roll call room, barged in, and interrupted Lutz’s updates. “Boss! Sorry to cut in, but the killer was just at Frank’s house. He left a box behind with Gina’s ponytail and a threatening letter inside. We have to get over there and have Forensics check it out, and we need to make sure Frank’s truck hasn’t been tampered with.”
“Son of a bitch! Okay, this meeting is over. Shawn and Henry, grab three officers and head to Frank’s house now—lights and sirens engaged. I’ll tell Forensics, and then Jesse and I will head out too. The rest of you hang back in case he calls the station with other threats.”