Page 120 of Love Me Fierce

I advance through the next few images, but I don’t learn anything new. In the final picture, he’s facing the salesman, giving me his profile. He’s still wearing the cap, but I note his slightly elongated nose and his surprisingly plump lips. I also get the right edgeof his eye, and when I zoom in, I detect what could be faint wrinkles.

It’s enough to make me think he’s late thirties, or early forties.

The last frame shows his hands on the edge of the counter. He’s turned away from the camera, showing the back of his head. His thick hair is trimmed short, and it’s dark. Most likely a dark brown.

Show me your eyes, damn it!

But this guy’s careful. He would have already scoped the cameras before he bought the phone. He wore a hat to conceal his face, and he never looks in this direction head on.

Damn it.

We are so close yet so agonizingly far.

My coffeemaker gives its final gurgle. I pull down a mug and fill it, then add milk from the fridge. After several sips, I go back to the photos.

There’s something bugging me about this guy’s features.

This time, I play them forward, quicker to trick my eyes into thinking he’s moving.

Is it the way he walks? Or is it those rounded lips?

I get the feeling I’ve seen this guy before. Where?

Another email from Ballard pings with the titlerendition.

Composite sketch from one of our crime scene artists.

I open the attachment. The man staring back at me is only a best guess based on his features, his race, and estimated age, but that inkling I got earlier from the screen grabs is gone.

The rendition is off somehow.

I carry my coffee and phone to my office, and call Ballard.

“Hardly the slam dunk we were hoping for,” I say when he picks up.

He gives a heavy sigh. “Legit.”

“What now?”

“Every law enforcement agency in the intermountain west has these images,” he says.

This could help us if this guy gets pulled over or interacts with police somehow, but it’s unlikely to help us right now.

“What’s on his wrist?”

“I wondered that too. Tattoo maybe. Or one of those woven rope bracelets.”

Same conclusion I came to. “Did a burner phone show up on Kimberly’s records?”

“Yes. Different number though. And we don’t have the same type of proof of malicious intent that we did with Marin’s phone.”

“But you’re getting in, right?”

“Warrant came through yesterday. We should have something by tomorrow.”

I groan in frustration. “He’s going to hide his face from the cameras again.”

“I’d say that’s likely.”

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