Exposed (6 page)

Brian had just taken a booth at the Smokehouse when Sam walked through the door.

With Maddie at his side.

She wore jeans and boots again, along with a loose white sweater that draped over her breasts. She had a purple scarf around her neck, and her cheeks were pink—from cold or excitement, Brian couldn’t tell.

Sam spotted him, and they made a beeline for Brian’s table.

“Look who I found,” Sam said, scooting into the booth. Maddie slid in beside Sam and unwound her scarf.

“Hi.” She smiled across the table, and Brian’s heart gave a kick.

“Hi. You went by our office?”

“Yeah, and it’s a lot harder to get a visitor’s pass than
I expected. They wouldn’t even let me past the guardhouse.”

“Next time, call ahead,” Sam said. “We’ll get you right in.” He looked at Brian. “She’s got something on Mladovic.”

Brian watched with interest as she unzipped her bag and pulled out a laptop computer. “I got a call from my client this morning, and it made me think of something.”

“Who, the bride?” Brian asked.

“That’s right.” She powered up the computer and keyed in a password. “You know, I had another photo session earlier this week at the park. Right in front of the bank, where Jolene Murphy works. And I got to thinking—”

“Can I get y’all some drinks?”

They all turned as a smiling waitress stepped up to their table.

“You ordered yet?” Sam asked.

“Just did.”

Sam asked for his usual brisket sandwich, and Maddie distractedly ordered a salad. When the waitress left, Maddie shifted the screen to face the booth.

“Check it out. Ninety-two images of CenTex Bank, exactly forty-eight hours before Jolene Murphy disappeared.”

Brian leaned forward on his elbows to scan the row of photographs.

“Look at this.” She clicked on one of the images, and a family of four filled the screen. All of them wore jeans and matching plaid shirts. The backdrop of the photo was a grassy corner of the park, and Brian recognized the building behind it.

“Can you zoom in on the bank?” he asked.

She was a step ahead of him, already cropping and enlarging an image of the bank’s front door.

“Hey, that’s her,” Sam said, leaning forward.

“That’s what I thought, too, based on the picture you showed me.” She looked at Brian.

“What time was this taken?”

A few more clicks, and she pulled up a file.

“According to the metadata . . . looks like this image was taken Monday at five thirty-four
P.M
.”

“Jolene usually gets off at five-thirty,” Sam said. “She was supposed to meet us at Starbucks right after work yesterday.”

“Go back to the camera roll,” Brian said. “You have any more shots of the bank?”

“Not the bank,” Maddie said, “but the area around it. Let me find it . . . wait . . . sorry, that’s blurry . . .” She kept scrolling, racing through dozens and dozens of photos. He caught one of some grass, a shoe, a whole series that were completely black. “Damn, where’d it go?” she muttered.

“Don’t you ever erase anything?” Brian asked.

“Never.” She glanced up at him. “Force of habit. I never delete a picture.”

“Even if it’s junk?”

“I don’t delete anything,” she said. “That creates a gap in the photo record. Not that it usually matters with portraits, but for forensic work, it can be important. If some defense attorney sees a gap in the record, it can blow a case wide open. Which means even if I leave the lens cap on or take a picture of my feet, the photo stays.
The jury understands a bad picture. What they don’t like is missing evidence.”

“Wait, back up,” Sam said. “I saw something.”

“You’re right, that’s it.” She clicked on an image. “This is the one I wanted to show you. See the street corner here? Look at that car.”

Brian squinted at the family portrait. In the background, over the head of the grinning kid, was the wrought-iron fence that surrounded the park. And beyond
that
was a gray sedan. Inside it were two passengers, visible from behind, and one of them was holding something up to his face.

Brian looked at her. “Any way to zero in on that?”

“I already did,” she said. “This is exactly what I wanted to show you guys, but I wanted you to see it in context first.” She clicked out of the camera roll and opened up a new file. “Check this out. I enhanced this with software. Look.”

The new image was much sharper. It clearly showed a gray sedan with two people seated in front. The car was parked on the street perpendicular to the bank entrance, facing the door where Jolene would emerge when she left her job as a teller. One of the men was holding binoculars.

“They cased the scene,” Sam said.

“Looks like it to me. I think it’s the same car from yesterday, the one that tried to run me down.” Maddie glanced at Brian, and he could see the pride glinting in her eyes. This was useful evidence, and she knew it.

Sam looked at her. “You have any more shots like this? Maybe something that shows a license plate?”

“I do, but the light’s bad, and it’s completely in shadow. But look at this.” She opened yet another file, which showed a cropped and digitally enhanced image. In this picture, the car’s side mirror reflected the passenger’s face. “Part of his face is obscured by the brim of his hat, but still. At least, it’s something. I mean, we can tell he’s Caucasian, right?”

Brian exchanged looks with Sam. They’d already known their suspects’ ethnicity. Mladovic was Serbian, and so were his hired guns. What they needed was a name, an address, a location.

“Any chance you got a vehicle tag somewhere?” Brian asked. “Maybe when they were pulling away?”

The waitress appeared with a tray of food and frowned down at the table. “Uh—”

“Sorry.” Maddie slid the computer aside to make room for two big platters, plus her salad.

“Yeah, or maybe when they were parking,” Sam said, digging into his sandwich.

“Believe me, I looked. I’ve been in the photo lab all morning poring over these.”

“We should try the bank.” Brian looked at Sam. “They’ve got security cams on every corner of the building.”

“We already went through all that. No footage of her abduction, just her leaving work and heading for the parking lot.”

“Yeah, but we didn’t see the film for Monday. Maybe this gray car—what is it, a Buick? Maybe this Buick passed by, and we can get something.”

“Not a bad idea,” Maddie said, and he detected
surprise in her voice, as if she’d thought he was too much of a rookie to come up with a lead.

“It’s a good thought,” Sam echoed. “And you know what? I think I’ll get this to go. I’ll head back, see what I can get on the surveillance tapes.” He flagged the waitress and asked for a to-go box, then looked at Maddie. “You mind making us a copy of those pictures?”

She scooted out of the booth and fished a brown envelope from her purse. “I burned you a disc.”

“Maddie, you’re a gem.”

“Well. I just hope it’s useful.”

Brian looked at her, then at Sam. “You need me to come?”

“Nah, you two finish your lunch.”

After Sam took off, she slid back into the booth, looking slightly flushed. She shut down her computer and zipped it into the bag.

“It’s a good lead,” Brian said. He went to work on his barbecued ribs as she picked at her salad.

“I hope it helps.” Her brow furrowed. “I can’t stop thinking about Jolene Murphy. What do you think the chances are of finding her?”

Brian watched her carefully. She meant finding her
alive
, and he put those chances at slim. “We’ll find her,” he said firmly, but Maddie looked unconvinced. “How’s that tripod coming?”

“It’s coming.” She poked at lettuce, avoiding his gaze.

“Think we’ll hear something today?”

She scoffed. “Get real.”

“I thought you had an in.”

“I do.” She eyed his plate and looked up at him. “She’s fast, but it’s still going to take a few days. Which is better than Quantico, I’m guessing.” She paused to watch him as he licked barbecue sauce off his thumbs. “What’s your typical lead time on DNA evidence?”

Brian wiped his hands on a napkin. “Depends.” He dropped a rib onto her plate. “Eat something.”

“I am.”

He gave her a baleful look, and she picked up the rib.

“Typically, a few weeks, maybe a month,” he told her, which was stretching it. That was
if
they had a comparison sample provided by a suspect. Blind DNA tests were much lower-priority and could take months.

“Well, we can do better than that. My friend Mia will probably get us something in the next few days.”

“It still might not be fast enough,” he said, watching her. She nibbled the rib clean, and he added another one to her plate. “Anyway, knowing who took her doesn’t solve our problems, because we still need to figure out where she is.”

Brian tried to read her expression as she stirred her iced tea. He wondered if she knew what had most likely happened to Jolene Murphy by now.

“Maddie.”

She glanced up at him. He held her gaze, and he saw it. She knew. She wasn’t kidding herself about the victim.

“We’ll track them down one way or another,” he said. “This is a major case involving half a dozen agencies.”

“An alphabet soup,” she said, and there was that cynicism again. He was sure of it now—she didn’t like cops, for some reason.

“We’ll track them down. You can count on it.”

She looked at him, and he felt that pull again, the one he’d felt when he first met her. He’d felt it again at her house last night, and now she was sitting right across from him, tempting him in that soft white sweater and watching him with those bottomless brown eyes.

He should ask her out. He asked women out all the time, and most of them said yes. But she had her guard up, and he knew she’d find some reason to turn him down. His gaze dropped to her mouth. There was barbecue sauce on the corner of it, and she caught him staring.

“What?” She dabbed her lip with a napkin.

He should ask anyway. Otherwise, he was an idiot, and he deserved what he got, which was guaranteed to be nothing. But he kept quiet.

“So, who is this guy, anyway?” She pushed her plate aside. “The one you’re investigating?”

“Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

She leaned closer and looked him in the eye. “Yes, I do, or I wouldn’t have asked.”

Brian debated what to tell her. Part of him wanted to tell her zip. But she was involved in the investigation now, and she at least deserved to know something.

“We’re looking at him for a long list of offenses—drugs, racketeering, murder,” he said. “He’s very dangerous, and so are the people working for him.”

“Who is he, some mob boss?”

“Dr. Goran Mladovic, also known as the Doctor.”

She looked startled. “He’s an M.D.?”

“Yeah, but don’t let that fool you. He’s lethal when he wants to be. When someone crosses him, he’s outright sadistic.”

The little worry line was back between her brows. “If you know all this about him, why don’t you arrest him?”

“What we know and what we can prove are two different things. It boils down to evidence. And we appreciate your help with that.”

“I hope it pans out.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, and he saw a flicker of something in her eyes. An awareness.

“Listen, Maddie—”

Her phone chimed. She dug it out of her purse and read the screen. “Damn, I have to go.” She looked up at him. “Injury accident up on Route 12.”

Opportunity blown. She grabbed her bag, and Brian stood up as she scooted out of the booth.

“Let me know how it goes with the bank cams, okay? I’m very interested in Jolene Murphy’s investigation.” She pulled the scarf around her neck. “Even if you don’t find anything, I still want to know.”

“Sure.”

“I mean it.” She pinned him with a look. “Don’t keep me out of the loop—I hate that.”

“I won’t,” he promised. “I’ll call you either way.”

Jolene had to pee. Again.

She lifted her head and took a longing look at the toilet four feet away.

She closed her eyes and bit down on the gag tied around her face. The bandanna was dry as sawdust, just like her mouth. She didn’t understand it. How could
her body produce pee and tears and snot, when she’d never felt so dehydrated in her life?

Tears burned her eyes, and she squeezed them back. They didn’t help. They only made it worse. She looked down at what remained of her hand. It was purple and swollen, hardly recognizable as human, and she’d been trying not to stare at it. If she’d seen something like it on the Discovery Channel, she would have thought it was some kind of exotic coral.

A door slammed. Jolene’s heart jumped into her throat. She glanced at the crack beneath the door as the familiar male voice reached her. She listened, trying to tell if he was on the phone again, or if someone else was with him.

Please, no more
. The tears were back, making hot tracks down her cheeks. She scooted farther under the sink and pulled herself into a ball. Her heart pounded wildly.