Chapter Twenty-Three

HANNAH DROVE US to the airport. We made the trip in record time, arriving just a half hour past our eight-thirty appointment and parking in the same long-term lot where the police had found Drew Allen’s car. As we exited Hannah’s BMW, I looked for security cameras but saw none. Hopefully, they were well-hidden, or this trip would be a waste.

To get to the airport concourse, we walked through a long tunnel before arriving at an escalator that led to the ticketing entrance. There, Hannah showed her badge to a security officer, and he directed us to the administrative suite on the airport’s third floor. Caitlyn Grivens’ office was near the front.

Caitlyn wasn’t the older, grizzled security director one met in most organizations. In her late thirties, she had long blonde hair and wore a plain gray business suit that failed to hide her strikingly full figure—if I had walked past her on the street, I’d have pegged her as a retired swimsuit model. Given that she worked primarily with men, I could only imagine the difficulty they had walking out of her office.

Hannah shot me a look and not a very pleasant one. We introduced ourselves to Caitlyn and apologized for being late. Without going into every detail of the case, Hannah summarized our interest in Drew’s car, its abandonment in the long-term lot, and our need to view the security tapes from April 19th through April 21st.

Caitlyn asked if we were interested in the tapes from the entire parking lot or just the entrance camera. After looking at Hannah for confirmation, I said we’d only need the entrance tapes. Once we determined the date and time Drew’s car had entered the lot, we could request the feed from the other cameras.

Caitlyn then called her assistant and told him what we were looking for. Fifteen minutes later, he returned with a stack of surveillance DVDs covering all the dates in question.

“I want to show you what you’re going to be looking at.” Caitlyn put one of the DVDs into the drive on her computer. After about two minutes, a Ford Explorer pulled up to the automated entryway. The driver slid his credit card into the machine and quickly pulled it back. After about five seconds, the security arm lifted, and the driver proceeded into the lot. From the time the driver first came into view, the whole transaction took about thirty seconds. Most importantly, we were able to see his face and the car’s license plate before it drove in.

I commented on the clarity of the picture. The video timestamp showed it at just after midnight on April 19th, yet the car and the plate appeared as clear as day.

“If you had come here last year,” Caitlyn said, “you’d have noticed a huge difference. With the video quality we had then, the images were pretty much useless after dark. We replaced the cameras in all our lots about ten months ago.”

“On average,” I asked, “how many cars enter the long-term lot each day?”

“Vehicle turnover is pretty consistent in all the lots. There are about twelve hundred spaces in the Red Lot. Assuming the normal turnover, that means about two hundred and fifty new cars per day. I wish we had the manpower to help you run through these, but we’re pretty short-staffed at present.”

Looking at me, she added, “If you want, I could set you up here with a computer. That way I could get you any additional tapes you might need if you find the car you’re looking for.”

“That’s okay,” Hannah said quickly. “We’ll take them back to the department.”

I thought of one more question. “I know you can’t get into the long-term lot without a credit card, but the charge isn’t entered into the system until you leave. If someone leaves their car in the lot and never exits, how long would the system retain their credit card information?”

“There’s no time limit built into the system. This is a long-term lot. We’ve had people park for well over thirty days.”

We thanked Caitlyn for her time and left her office. Walking back to the parking lot, I said, “I noticed you were pretty quiet in there today.”

“It was pretty apparent the lady only had eyes for you. I may not like that, but I’m not above using it to my advantage.”

“I didn’t notice her paying attention to me.”

“Maybe you were too busy drooling. Oh, Terry,” she said, imitating Caitlyn’s voice, “do you want to watch those tapes from my private office? It may take all night, but I’m sure it will be worth your while.”

“I thought women in positions of authority tried to support one another.”

“Then you’re more naïve than I realized.”