A Killer's Secret: FBI Mystery Thriller by Thomas Fincham

Author:Thomas Fincham [Fincham, Thomas]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-09-23T00:00:00+00:00

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SIXTY-FOUR

Agent Larkin was unaware of the passage of time. She was fully immersed in her task. Scouring footage from multiple cameras. Playing it back. Frame by frame. Slow motion. Zoomed in.

Checking every conceivable angle.

It didn’t take long. She worked fast. And when her eyes got tired, she decided to dig into a separate but related topic. She looked a little deeper than McKinley had earlier in the day.

And found something that made her heart skip a beat.

“They need to know about this,” she muttered to herself.

But first things first. The car from the coffee shop shooting.

She called McKinley’s cell number. Tapping it into her desk phone by memory. He answered on the first ring.

“Hey, Larkin. We can hear you.”

“Loud and clear!” Jo called out.

“Good. Are you sitting down?” Larkin asked.

“Yes, we just got back in the car,” McKinley said. “Creighton’s house was a bit of a bust.”

Larkin frowned. “Sorry to hear that. I was able to turn something up, but it might be a dead end, too.”

“Lay it on us,” Jo chimed in.

“Well, I was able to identify the car the shooter was riding in. Sort of. As in, I know the make and model. It’s a six-year-old white Honda Accord. It has tinted windows, which are an aftermarket thing. But everything else about the car looks to be stock.”

“So we’re talking about a dime-a-dozen car,” said Jo.

“Pretty much. Anyone looking for a relatively cheap and reliable car will probably spend some time looking at Honda Accords. No help there. There are a ton of those on the road. It also doesn’t help that this specific car had no license plate on it.”

“Of course it didn’t,” Jo said.

“Were you able to see the faces of the driver or shooter?” McKinley asked. “Any identifying features?”

“The best I can get is a clear image of the shooter’s hand. It looks like a man. And he’s Caucasian. Which doesn’t exclude Blaine. Or offer any real proof that it was him. That’s all I can tell you for now.”

“It’s something,” McKinley said cheerfully. “Thanks for trying, Larkin. Can you forward me some of those shots? I’ll send them on to Ford as well.”

“Yup. Incoming.” She attached the pictures to an email and fired it off.

“Got the email,” McKinley said after a moment. “I forgot to send you this before, but we also need you to look up a phone number. Someone who called Lieutenant Griffin as we were leaving the field office.”

Larkin perked up. “I can do that in no time.”

“Texting it over now,” McKinley replied.

The text arrived on Larkin’s cell. She typed it into her computer and came back with an instant return.

“That number is registered to a Murray Watson,” she said. “It also comes up in a police report that was filed just a little while ago. It was reported stolen, and Mr. Watson didn’t get a good look at the thief. Sorry. I guess that’s another dead end.”

“I guess we’ll have to regroup and come up with a better plan,” Jo said.

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