“This is him?”
“I believe so, sir. It’s not anyone we can identify. And that’s where the incendiary device was found.”
“That’s over a week ago. How the fuck did he get in there?”
“The pass that correlates to that time of entry to the server room was issued to the cleaning crew.”
“What?” How the hell did he get ahold of that?
“Exactly. We’ll have to check that out tomorrow.” The footage freezes.
“Did you just stop the feeds?” I ask.
“Yes, sir.”
“Can you put these in a sequence?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Quickly?”
“I can do it now.”
“Has Welch seen this?”
“His team notified me of it. They’ve been combing the footage.”
“Good.”
A moment or so later my screen changes so I’m only looking at one feed. I press play again, and this time the sequence is longer, cutting between views. Each time one view finishes, I press play for the next.
“I can try and enhance the image,” Barney says, his enthusiasm bubbling over in his tone. He wants to nail this son of a bitch, too.
“Do.”
The image on my screen changes. It’s sharper.
Suddenly, my study door opens. I look up, surprised, about to rebuke the intruder. It’s Ana.
“So, you can’t enhance it further?” I ask Barney.
“Let me try something.” He’s silent as Ana walks toward me with a look of quiet determination, and before I can do or say anything she crawls into my lap.
“I think that’s as good as it’s going to get,” Barney says.
Ana puts her arms around my neck and snuggles beneath my chin, and I tighten my hold on her.
Is something wrong?
“Um, yes, Barney. Could you hold one moment?”
“Yes, sir.”
I lift one shoulder to trap and hold my phone.
“Ana, what’s wrong?”
She shakes her head, refusing to answer me. I grasp her chin and study her face, but her expression is unreadable. She frees her chin from my fingers and cuddles into me. I have no idea what’s wrong, and frankly, I’m too engrossed in what Barney has found. I drop a kiss on her head. “Okay, Barney, what were you saying?”
“I can enhance the picture a little more.”
I press play. The grainy black-and-white image of the arsonist appears on-screen. I press play once more, the arsonist moves closer to the camera, and I freeze the frame. “Okay, Barney, one more time.”
“Let me see what I can do.”
A dashed box appears around the head of the arsonist and suddenly zooms in.
Ana sits up and stares at the image. “Is Barney doing this?” she asks.
“Yes.” And I know I sound as awed as she looks by Barney’s technical prowess. “Can you sharpen the picture at all?” I ask him. The picture blurs, then refocuses moderately sharper on the asshole. He’s looking down at the floor. Ana tenses and squints at the screen.
“Christian,” she whispers. “That’s Jack Hyde.”
What!
“You think?” I squint at the image.
“It’s the line of his jaw.” Ana points at the screen following the monochromatic line of his chin. “And the earrings and the shape of his shoulders. He’s the right build, too. He must be wearing a wig, or he’s cut and dyed his hair.”
I feel the blood drain from my face. Hyde. Jack fucking Hyde!
“Barney, are you getting this?” I put the phone down and switch to hands-free, then whisper to Ana, “You seem to have studied your ex-boss in some detail, Mrs. Grey.”
Ana grimaces and shudders while anger surges like sulfuric acid through me.
“Yes, sir. I heard Mrs. Grey. I’m running facial-recognition software on all the digitized CCTV footage right now. See where else this asshole—I’m sorry, ma’am—this man has been within the organization.”
“Why would he do this?” Ana asks.
I shrug, trying to mask my rage.
Fucking Hyde.
I put a stop to his creepy shit. Fired him. Punched him and broke his nose.
“Revenge, perhaps,” I offer, darkly. “I don’t know. You can’t fathom why some people behave the way they do. I’m just angry that you ever worked so closely with him.”
We have to get this information to the police, the FBI, and Welch, though he has some explaining to do. Hyde is obviously not in Florida. Why the hell did Welch think he was? I need to talk to him. And maybe, given all this time, Hyde may have skulked back to his apartment, here in Seattle. Welch needs to find him sooner rather than later, and if he does, I hope I get to punch that fucker’s lights out again. One thing’s for sure, I need to keep him away from my wife, keep her safe. I curl my arm around her waist.
“We have the contents of his hard drive, too, sir,” Barney adds.
I interrupt Barney with the first thought that comes into my head. “Yes, I remember. Do you have an address for Mr. Hyde?” I don’t want to alarm Ana with the details of what was on Hyde’s old computer.
“Yes, sir, I do,” Barney says.