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He moves around me and grabs the laptop again before placing it on his lap to return his attention to the surveillance videos.
“Nothing opens that early in Fraser, so there’s no point in checking earlier in the morning on the other cameras. Let’s check the day before the fire; see if we can catch that car on camera around town,” he says more to himself than me.
I tuck my legs under me on the sofa and continue to watch him work. He mutters things nearly the entire time he’s clicking and watching different frames.
After nearly another hour of searching, his face lights up. “Ah ha!” He points. “Got you, you bastard!”
He stands, nearly throwing me over the sofa since I’ve been resting against him. He grips the laptop with one hand, excitement on his face, while I catch myself before my face hits the cushion.
“Well, damn,” I say, laughing. I sit myself back upright.
He turns to me quickly, his eyes widening for a flash. “Sorry!” He laughs.
“Sir, I don’t think you’re sorry at all!”
Another laugh erupts from his chest, and it makes me smile. His laugh always makes me smile.
Sitting back down, he turns the screen so I can see. There it is plain as day. The tag number on the sedan. The next picture shows the sedan driver, the arsonist. I squint my eyes to study the face, but I don’t recognize him.
“I don’t know him.”
“I wasn’t sure you would. This was taken at the local grocery store.” Jack zooms in on his hand. “Looks like he only bought charcoal lighter fluid. That explains the bottle and why it burned so quickly. Wait.” He clicks through more of the screengrabs from the store. “Right there; what’s he grabbing?” Once again, he addresses himself more than me. He zooms in again, clearing the image. “Wire cutters.”
The little store has a small hardware section, which isn’t uncommon in these small towns apparently.
“So, it appears he bought the wire cutters to snip the outside light wires, and the charcoal lighter fluid to ensure it would burn quickly the day before. But that doesn’t explain how he knew you were here,” he says, his detective wheels turning. He stands and paces with his hands on his hips, muttering with every step.
“He must have followed me,” I say flatly, feeling disappointed in myself. “I thought I was being cautious, but I must have let my guard down. That’s the only explanation.”
“Don’t go blaming yourself again, Andrea. This guy is a professional criminal. He’s meant to remain inconspicuous. To blend in with the people around him.”
I know he’s right, so I push those feelings away and try to focus on here and now. I rather enjoy hearing my real name pass through his lips. My body warms at the thought.
“I’m going to call the precinct and check that tag number,” Jack says, pulling his phone from his pocket.
After Jack rattles off the tag number to the officer at the precinct, I hold my hand out, asking for the Chromebook. I pull it into my lap and click through the images of the man who tried to kill me.
I look intently at his face, trying to place him anywhere I’ve been since being here, but I can’t. Not even in the small sea of people that enter the café every day.
He’s common looking, average height and weight, and bald. He’s dressed to blend in, too, I guess. Regular jeans and a sweatshirt. Clicking again, I draw in a sharp breath. He’s looking directly at the camera. There, staring at me is another man who tried to end my life.
My gasp gets Jack’s attention, and he ends the call and walks over to me quickly. He holds a piece of paper with writing on it.
“What is it? You recognize him from that angle?” Jack asks urgently.
“Something about him seems familiar. One night before I ran, a man came to our door late at night. I didn’t get a good look at him, but looking at this guy’s picture pulled me right back to that night. It has to be connected, doesn’t it?” I ask, trying to regain composure. Now isn’t the time to let fear creep back in.
“You’re safe,” he consoles me, leaning down to kiss my forehead.
“What did you find out with the tag number?” I ask, trying not to dwell.
Jack searches my eyes for several heartbeats, seemingly checking to make sure I’m okay before answering. “The tag is registered to a rental company. The car was rented at the Denver airport. I’m going to call and see if they’ll give the name of who rented it.” He sounds more hopeful than he has all day.
I nod in response, before putting the laptop back on the table. I have no desire to see that image any longer.
“This is Detective Jack Lawson, calling from Fraser. I have a question about a sedan rented from your location.” His voice is commanding.
I watch his eyes; they give away so much. He reads the tag number off his scrap of paper to the person on the other end of the line. Glancing over at me, he gives me a wink, and my cheeks heat in response.
