Page 81 of Beckett
I shook my head. “Let’s just get it over with.” The sooner we finished, the sooner we could get out of here.
Lachlan led us to another room with computer monitors, older models that hummed with electronic life. “Our grocery store doesn’t have the best camera system, but we got lucky. One of the parking lot cameras caught someone at your car.”
He pulled up the footage, grainy and slightly stuttered. The time stamp showed 2:47 p.m. But there he was—a figure in a dark hoodie, moving with purpose toward my car. My breath caught as I watched him slide something under my windshield wiper.
“Can you see his face?” I asked, leaning forward until my nose nearly touched the screen.
Lachlan shook his head. “Hoodie’s pulled too tight. He knew where the cameras were, kept his face hidden.”
We watched it three more times, looking for anything identifying. Height—average. Build—average. Gait—nothing distinctive. He was a ghost, a shadow, exactly what he’d been for over a year.
“Let’s go through the store footage,” Lachlan suggested. “See if anyone strikes you as familiar. Keep in mind, he probably changed clothes after leaving the note. Would’ve ditched the hoodie.”
The next hours blurred together. Face after face on the screen, people going about their normal lives, shopping for groceries while I’d been shopping for steaks to celebrate Beckett’s birthday. An elderly woman with her walker. A mother with three kids hanging off her cart. Construction workers on their lunch break. Most were strangers.
None were him.
Or maybe all of them were. How could I know? He’d been a shadow for so long, a voice in the dark, hands that grabbed and hurt and disappeared. I’d never gotten a clear look at his face. Even that night in the alley, when he’d pressed the knife to my neck, it had been too dark, everything happening too fast.
I didn’t really recognize anyone. The longer I looked, the more the faces began to blur together.
“I’m sorry,” I said finally, rubbing my exhausted eyes. “I haven’t seen anyone who looks familiar.”
“It was a long shot,” Lachlan said kindly. “But worth trying. Sometimes victims recognize something subconsciously—a way of walking, how someone holds their shoulders.”
He closed the video files and pushed back from the computer. “I’ll keep copies of everything, run them through some facial recognition software we have access to. Might get lucky.” He rose from his chair.
“Thanks for coming in,” he added, stretching. “I know this wasn’t easy.”
Beckett helped me to my feet—my legs had gone stiff from sitting so long, and the fluorescent lights had given me the beginning of a headache. We were gathering our things, Lachlan walking us toward the door, when Beckett’s phone rang.
He glanced at the screen and frowned slightly. “It’s Travis. He never calls unless—” He looked at me, then at Lachlan. “Mind if I take this?”
“Go ahead,” Lachlan said. “I’ll give you a few. Come find me before you head out.”
Beckett nodded. “Thanks, Lach.”
Lachlan left and Beckett answered, putting the call on speaker. “Yeah, Travis?”
“I may have found something.” Travis’s voice was tight with excitement, words coming fast. “Several somethings, actually. But you need to see it on a proper screen, not a phone. The resolution matters for what I’m showing you.”
“We can use Lark’s computer once we get back to Pawsitive.”
“Just come here on your way home. It’ll be easier if I can show you. But you know, Audra…”
There was a pause, heavy with implication. Beckett looked at me, something uncertain in his eyes.
“That’s fine,” Beckett said slowly. “We can come to your place. Audra will understand.”
“As long as she gets it.” Travis’s voice was careful.
“She will. We’ll be there in forty.” They disconnected the call.
I shook my head. “I’m missing something.”
“Travis doesn’t leave his house unless it’s absolutely necessary,” Beckett explained to me, his voice gentle. “He’s… He prefers it that way. Reclusive. He doesn’t mind the Warrior Security team being there, but others, he generally doesn’t invite in. People have judged him for being a freak before.”
I nodded, understanding more than he probably realized. Sometimes the world was too much. Sometimes walls were theonly things that felt safe. Sometimes the outside world held too many threats, too many variables you couldn’t control.
