Page 58 of The Grave Between Us
The husband worked the computer for a second, leaning over Cole, and a new video feed popped up. “It’s a separate system,” he said. “We put a little more money into this one. It’s a better picture. We wanted to be able to identify anyone entering or exiting the property if we needed to.”
He felt Cole’s shiver, the hitch in his shoulders from his sudden intake of breath. Cole fast-forwarded to the same time stamp as when Kerrigan entered the parking lot. They waited, watching the empty road for several minutes, until Kerrigan’s silver Maxima appeared. The camera angle was set so they could see inside the windshield, and they had a crystal-clear view of Brett Kerrigan, checking his phone as he signaled left to turn. A few seconds later, he pulled out, heading down the highway.
And then a second car appeared. Another sedan, a Honda. Blue. Noah scribbled down the license plate on a scrap of paper.
The driver had the visor down, even though the day had been overcast. He pulled to the intersection and stopped. Noah held his breath.
There hadn’t been anyone else in the parking lot, other than Brett Kerrigan and the man they thought was Ingram.
The driver leaned forward over the steering wheel, peering down the highway before making his turn. For a single second, he was visible in three-quarter profile, outlined through the clear glass, the dark Honda interior an impromptu backdrop for the pale expanse of his broad face. Square jaw, wide cheekbones. He had a goatee, salt-and-pepper hair. Broad shoulders. He was a powerful man, with a thick neck that was made of muscle, not fat. Same ball cap. Same canvas jacket. Same hoodie bunched behind his neck. It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t even close to the clarity or quality of a booking photo. Noah couldn’t have used the image in a six-pack or asked a bystander to try to ID the man based on that shot. But Cole had gone rigid, his spine electric-straight, like he’d seen a resurrection.
“That’s him,” Cole hissed. “Fuck, Noah, that’s him.”
“Are you sure?” Noah asked softly. “It’s not very clear.”
Cole nodded. They watched as Ingram turned left, following Kerrigan’s Nissan.
“Time stamp?” Noah asked.
“One-seventeen p.m.”
“That’s the start of our timeline. How long is the drive from Oak Haven Meadows to Kerrigan’s home address?”
Cole checked his notes. “About ninety minutes, without traffic. There wasn’t much traffic on Saturday afternoon. He should have been back around two forty-five, then was supposed to meet his fiancé and friends at four thirty.”
“But he never made it home. That’s our window. Those ninety minutes are when it happened. Now we know when. We need to find out where and how.” Noah took a deep breath, steadying himself. “Let’s check the routes Kerrigan could have taken home. If there’s any traffic cameras, we can pull the footage, and we can ask gas stations along the way to see copies of their road-facing video surveillance. We’ll drive each route and retrace his steps.”
Cole nodded. He spun in the chair, turning wide eyes up to Noah. Gratitude fell from him in waves, and Noah ached to take his hand, promise him they would figure this out, that they would do it together.
He stepped away from the computer, nodding to the couple as he strode out of the office. “Sir, ma’am, thank you very much for your cooperation. I’m sorry, again, for the disturbance we caused on Saturday. In fact, we left before we had a chance to settle our bill, and I’d like to do that now—”
She waved him off with a curt dismissal. “Please find Mr. Kerrigan and bring him home to his fiancé. That’s all we want.”
“We’ll do absolutely everything we can to bring him home, ma’am.”
Cole looked as pale as a corpse, like he was blowing away from the inside out, and Noah gave in and reached for his hand. It wasn’t the most professional moment of his career, but the first time they’d been at Oak Haven Meadows, they were looking for a wedding site. That cat was already out of the bag.
Cole took his hand and squeezed.
* * *
“Jacob,I need you to run a plate for me. We’ve got a lead from the surveillance camera at the wedding venue.”
Noah heard keys tapping and Jacob’s chair groaning over the line. “Go ahead, boss.”
Noah read out the license plate numbers. In the front seat of Cole’s SUV, he and Cole hovered over an atlas of Iowa’s roadways.
Jacob whistled. “That’s a hot ride, boss. It was reported stolen two days ago.”
“From where?”
“Ames. Iowa State University parking lot. For a car thief, university parking lots are like shopping malls. Campus police took the report, but they already knew the car was long gone. I’m surprised it’s shown up. Usually those things are taken to chop shops within an hour.”
“Our suspect needed wheels that couldn’t be tracked back to him.”
“Should I pass this along to our BAU guests?”
“Hold off on that for now,” Noah said carefully. Cole’s gaze slid sideways to him. “We might be coming back with more, and I think Director King is the kind of guy who likes all his information in one lump, rather than parceled out in increments.”
