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“Wait for it,” she said eagerly. “That’s my table, and he wiped it off. There!”
The man stepped into the camera view, wiping the table off and pulling out a chair for Hannah. His head was lowered the entire time. Instead of taking the one he’d offered, though, she’d hastily stumbled around him and awkwardly taken the seat closer to the wall.
As she brushed past him, he raised his head just slightly.
“There!”
“Pause it.”
“Gotcha.”
Tank stopped the video and rewound it, pausing on the still frame of Darkshade’s face slightly pointed toward the camera. She figured he was too smart to look directly at it.
“Is it enough to help?”
Will clicked his tongue. “I’m not sure. We’ll give it to Stephen and have him rerun the facial with the new image. Shouldn’t take long, since we’re just running these thirty-one.”
But Hannah wasn’t listening. Her eyes were locked on the laptop Pierce had left on the counter, and the image still displayed on it.
“It’s him,” she said softly. No one seemed to hear her, busy arguing about which of two still shots they should use. “It’s him,” she said louder, pointing. “Look.”
She grabbed the laptop and carried it over to the television so everyone could look at both screens. Side-by-side, it was even more obvious than when she’d been comparing them across the room. This was the guy. Looking at the photo, he seemed completely average.
It seemed like everyone else agreed.
“Who is he?”
She flipped up the dossier document using her finger on the touch screen. “Yuri Kuznetsov, age thirty-six. Russian, but lives in Belarus. No family.”
“It fits,” said Will, tilting his head as if he still wasn’t convinced.
Ryder chimed in. “Have Joey do a deep dive. This could be our guy. And he’s been protecting his true identity for fifteen years.”
Will nodded. He pointed to Jackson and Pierce. “You do one last flip through every single profile we have and compare them to this photo. Just in case. Good work,” he said, looking at Hannah.
She filled with more pride than she even thought possible. It was entirely likely that he was telling the entire team that they’d done good work. But he’d looked at her. And even more importantly, he’d included her in that team. Hannah had been right; it was better when you weren’t going alone.
“Hey, Joey?” Will held his phone to his ear as he stepped outside. “I’ve got a name and I need everything. Financials, travel, all of it. I want to know the name of his parents’ babysitter.” He slid the door shut and his voice disappeared.
Hannah watched through the window. Will was animated, pacing the small porch and circling his hands through the air as he spoke to Joey.
“I’m just gonna…” Arms slipped between hers and reached for the laptop she still held.
“Oh, sorry.” She dragged her eyes away from Will and found Tank right next to her, pulling the laptop gently from her grasp. She refocused on what was happening inside the room, her cheeks growing warm with the awareness that she’d been shamelessly staring.
Tank looked at her, not quite smiling, but kind. “He’ll come around.”
She flipped her gaze back toward Will. “How do you know?”
“Will Gilbert is as loyal and predictable as they come. There’s a reason Jackson calls him Square.”
“Fair and square?” she guessed.
Tank nodded. “Yep. He’s already forgiven you. He just hasn’t admitted it to himself yet.”
“Thanks, Tank.”
“Call me Anthony,” he said with a soft smile that disappeared as quickly as it came.
