David Baldacci - Daylight

“Puller, where’d you learn to jump across buildings like that?” she asked, while Blum hiked an eyebrow at this odd remark.

“Ranger School,” he said off-handedly before adding, “You’re sure it wasn’t the right gun?”

She glared at him. “Blake was holding a Glock 26 subcompact. The gun in the picture is a full-sized Glock 26 with a black stainless steel slide.”

“I didn’t get a good look at it, like you did. And it was dark in that alley,” cautioned Puller. “And the gun frames look alike.”

“I know my weapons,” retorted Pine. “Somebody switched guns. This was all a setup and they used Blake as the scapegoat.”

Puller said, “But you have to have extra muscle in very high places to pull off something like this.”

“And I think we’ve seen clearly that they do,” said Pine. She thumbed her phone screen until a new page appeared. “Six locations for surveillance cameras,” she said. “Let’s start knocking on doors.”

Two banks, a laundromat, a pawnbroker’s shop, a convenience store, and an office supply store later, they found that all the footage from that night had already been confiscated as evidence by local police.

Pine, Puller, and Blum stood on the sidewalk outside the pawn-broker’s shop in the driving rain, determining what their next steps might be.

“They worked extremely fast taking all the camera feeds,” said Puller. “That leaves us with zip video for that night.”

“And it’s doubtful they’re going to actually use it as evidence,” said Blum.

“More likely they’ll bury it in a landfill,” said Puller.

“People were around during the shooting,” noted Pine. “Maybe someone took video on their phones. That happens all the time these days.”

“Do we return later tonight and start asking around?”

“Well, right now, we could go back to the place where we ate. Someone who worked there might have seen something. We were standing right out in front of it when McElroy was shot.”

They headed over to the Italian restaurant. They sat at a booth and ordered some food. Pine recognized the waitress from when they had been there before and called her over. She was in her twenties, with light brown hair, sharp blue eyes, and a slim figure.

Puller and Pine showed the young woman their badges and asked her about the shooting.

The waitress, whose name tag read DAWN, instantly became rigid. Her blue eyes grew wide. “That’s right. You two were here that night.” She glanced outside. “It was horrible. I mean, this is a nice neighborhood. We’ve never had a murder right outside.”

“Can you tell us what you saw?” asked Puller, taking out his notepad.

Pine interjected, “And have the local police been by to talk to anyone here?”

“Not that I know of.”

Pine and Puller exchanged a look. Puller said, “So anything you can remember, no matter how trivial it may seem.”

She pulled up a chair and sat down. Glancing out the window again she said, “I heard some pops. Like firecrackers, only it’s not July.”

“Right,” said Pine. “Then what?”

“I ran over to the window and saw the two of you and the man . . . he was lying on the pavement by then.”

“Did you see where the shots came from?” asked Puller. “Or the shooter?”

She shook her head. “I was just looking at the body. It was . . . ” She paused. “I did see something, in the alley across the way.”

“What was that?” asked Pine.

“It was something, a flash of something, maybe a person turning and running.”

“In which direction?” asked Puller.

“Back into the alley, I think.” She looked up at them with a hopeless expression. “I . . . I’m sorry, I just can’t be sure.”

Puller drew a photo from his pocket. “Did you see this person that night?”

It was a picture of Jerome Blake.

Dawn studied it and then shook her head. “No.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.” She looked out the window again. “They must have cameras out there. You could check those.”

Pine explained, “We tried that. They . . . weren’t available.”

“Well, you could check with Karl.”

“Karl?” said Blum.

“He’s one of the short-order cooks here.”

“Why would he know anything?” asked Pine.

“Karl lives in the building next door to this one. There’s a fire escape overlooking the alley on this side. He’s had two break-ins into his apartment in the last year, both through the fire escape. So he put one of those camera things out there. You know, it notifies him if there’s any movement there. But it’s pointed in a way that it might have filmed what happened across the street.”

“Do you know where Karl is now?” asked Puller.

“Probably home. His shift starts at five and runs to midnight.”

They paid for their food and had Dawn give Karl a call to verify he was home and that they were coming over to check the camera feed.

As they headed out for the short walk Pine looked at Puller. “Could this be the big break in the case?”

“I’m not sure even a smoking gun would be enough. It’s not that sort of a case, apparently.”

“But we have to get to the truth.”

“Only reason I signed up for the job.”

“Me too.”

“Count me in on that,” chimed in Blum.

CHAPTER

22

THERE IT IS,” said Pine, pointing up at the second-floor fire escape landing where a small camera was attached to one of the support posts. It covered the entire fire escape outside the window and looked like it would also have a sight line to the alley across the street.

They continued on into the building and took the steps up to the third floor, then went down the hall to apartment 311.

Karl Shaffer was in his late forties, balding, grizzled, and tired looking. He seemed a man who had looked at life and life had looked back at him, and neither had been satisfied by what they had seen.

He wore a T-shirt despite the chill in the room. They showed him their official creds and he invited them inside.

“My wife works during the day, office job,” he said as he moved a basket of laundry and some other odds and ends so Blum and the other two could sit down. “So, Dawn called and said you needed to see my camera video?”

“From the shooting the other night.”

Shaffer shook his head. “Damn, that was some crazy shit, wasn’t it? But why not, I guess. Shootings happening all over the place. You’re not safe in your own house or apparently eating spaghetti bolognese at our place.”

“So the camera?” prompted Pine.

“Yeah, burglarized twice in the last ten months. I said enough was enough.” He turned to Pine and Puller and took out his phone. “The camera live-feeds to my phone through an app. It records all the time. It’s on some cloud loop or something that I don’t understand, but I don’t have to; it just has to work.”

“But can you pull up a video feed from the shooting?” asked Puller.

“I think so. The guy who set it up showed me. Give me a sec. It’s easier to do it on the laptop.”

He got up, went out of the room, and returned with the computer. He set it down on his lap, accessed the app, and hit some keys.

“Let’s see, I’m putting in as close to the time as I can. I remember it pretty damn well. I was making a batch of chicken marsala when I heard the shots. I’m not sure I can ever make it again. Okay, here we go.”

He turned the computer around so they could see the screen. He hit a key and the video started to run.

They all watched as Pine and Puller exited the restaurant and met up with Agent McElroy. A few moments later a shot rang out on the video. Though they’d been expecting it, they all flinched. McElroy dropped to the pavement, and Pine and Puller ducked down behind the car as more rounds sailed past.