by Rick Murcer
“Only a hint? Hell yeah. Like I’ve said a million times, I love your budget,” said Alex. “And your techs ain’t bad either.”
“You noticed. Bright and beautiful is a great combo.” Max flipped to the next picture and ran the software again. Twenty minutes later, they had a completed, three-dimensional image, strikingly detailed.
“Looks like the Mona Lisa to me,” said Alex.
“It is beautiful, isn’t it? Good thing Sophie’s not around; she’d think we’re getting a woody.” said Max.
“I am,” said Alex, laughing.
“Great. Tire porn. When will it end?” Max slapped Alex on the back.
Alex ran his hand along the screen. “So this runs on the same concept of the photogrammetry we use to create virtual crime scenes.”
“It does, except in much more detail. This application is helping solve cold cases all over the country.”
“What’s next?”
“We create the image in a compatible file, like a JPEG, then load it into Treadmate, our tread design database. It has over five thousand tire tread patterns, and we should have a match shortly. And I like our chances. This one seems a little unusual, maybe a seventeen-inch tire, and that’s not all that common these days.”
Alex shook his head. “I love the science, don’t you?”
“I do. Let’s let Treadmate go to work, and I’ll get you a cup of coffee. It shouldn’t take too long—maybe an hour—then we can start narrowing things down.”
Alex followed Max out of the door, but stopped to tie his shoe. He glanced back to the twenty-four-inch screen just as it beeped. His eyes grew wide. “Hey, Max. Come back. I think we’ve got something.”
Max rushed through the door and bent close to the screen. “Hot damn. It’s a seventeen-inch P275/40ZR19.”
“So?”
“I’m no expert, we’ll go see her in a minute, but this was used as stock issue on Corvettes around 1988. I know because we had one of those last month in North Carolina.”
“Okay. But tires don’t last twenty years.”
“I know, but replacement tires would be the same size—”
“—so chances are that an 80s Corvette was parked in that garage,” finished Alex.
Chapter-31
Josh stood away from Sophie, Manny, and Chloe in the security room of the parking ramp waiting for Max to answer his phone. He’d missed it when the CSI had called, and Max hadn’t left a message. They must have found something—and why not? Alex and Max were one of the best crime scene teams he’d ever seen. Bright, practical, and a little crazy made them very effective.
Sophie laughed out loud, clutching her stomach, at something Chloe said. She was a good detective—and a hell of a driver—but she was more than that to Manny. Even he could see that. She was there for him like those an irritating but endearing sister can be; yet she also knew when to step out of his way and control her free spirit. That’s the sort of intangible that was immeasurable when it came to supporting your partner. Right now, Manny needed it more than he thought.
Manny. Josh’s face clouded over. The man had been through exceptional torment over the last year, but here he was, still doing what few cops could do.
Louise Williams had been one of the finest women Josh had ever met, and he understood how losing her could throw Manny’s world “ass over tea kettle.”
Man. This cop thing just chews you up, spits you out, and stomps on your ass . . . all after the first kiss.
But Manny was a strong man with good friends, including yours truly. Josh knew that counted for something, maybe everything.
“Max Tucker here.”
“I know, I was calling you.”
“Just testing you.”
“Okay smartass, what did you two find?”
“Well, we narrowed it down to about seventy-five-percent accuracy . . . or chance of being right. We loaded the info into Treadmate and it came back with a seventeen-inch P275/40ZR19 tire size.”
“Ah . . . so what does that mean?”
“Oh sorry. That’s the original tire size for a 1988 Corvette.”
“But couldn’t that tire be used on something else?”
“It could be, but this size tire is not on many others. That’s why we think it’s about seventy-five/twenty-five that we’re correct.”
“There has to be more than that to have you make that kind of guess.”
He watched as Manny moved closer, listening like he did.
“GM dropped Firestone as a tire supplier in February 1988, but they had already issued the tire for that year’s models. Alex and I thought that maybe the tires would have been replaced by now, but it appears we’re wrong because this tread is the original from that year so—”
“So you could be right?”
“We could. We’re trying to find out if any other auto company used that size, and we’ll get back with you, but nothing so far.”
Josh stood up straight. “That’s great work, Max. Now I’ll need all of the Corvettes registered in—”
“Already pulled them for the state of Florida and broken down by county and owner’s name. I’ll send them to your phone in a few minutes. There’s around fifty of them in the state.”
“Excellent.” Josh turned his phone off. By then, Sophie and Chloe had joined Manny.
“What are we looking for?” asked Manny.
“It appears we may have gotten lucky. The tires may belong to a 1988 Corvette. The vehicle in the garage may have the original tread from a tire that fit just a few cars.”
“1988? Really?” glowed Sophie.
Chloe scrunched up her face. “That means something to you?”
“Hell yeah. That was my dream car. It was the 35th Anniversary Edition, and they only made a few thousand of them. They were bitching hot, and a few of them were converted by Callaway Cars to be the fastest street car, up to that time, ever. I almost peed my pants when I saw the first picture. I went to the Detroit Auto Show that year and got to sit in one and . . . well, use your imagination,” she grinned.
Josh shook his head. “I don’t know why that doesn’t surprise me.”
“If I could find one of those, I’d drive it down Biscayne Drive, new boobs flopping in the wind, and not care who saw me. The car’s that hot.”
“Okay, that visual’s too much even for me. Let’s look at the security recordings,” said Manny.
Sophie sighed. “Spoil sport. I was just getting warmed up.”
“I think that’s what worried all of us,” said Josh, heading toward the security desk.
Chloe fell in step with him. “I’ve got to talk to you when we get a minute.”
He glanced at his partner. “About what?”
“Just when we get a minute, okay?”
“All right, when we get a minute.”
They approached the guard who monitored the parking ramp’s security system.
“We need to see if there were any Corvettes leaving the ramp between 1:00 and 2:30 p.m. today.”
The heavy-set guard sporting a blue Mohawk and countless piercings nodded. “I didn’t notice any, but this new color system helps to make images more clear. Do you have a color?”
Josh shook his head. “No, just—”
“Wait. If it’s a 1988, it’s probably white, with black trim . . . unless it was customized to a different color,” interrupted Sophie.
Josh pointed to Sophie. “She’s an expert on this car, so . . . what she said.”
“Wow. Are you married?” joked the guard.
“Not for long,” Sophie replied.
“Oh, ah . . . sorry.” The guard turned back to the control panel and began to play the recording of every car that had left the ramp.
Car after car left the building, but no Corvettes. After about two hours, Josh had the guard stop. “We’ve gone an hour before and right up to the minute, and nothing. I was sure we had something, but it’s a dead end. Shit.”
The deflated mood in the room reminded
Josh that no matter how good the investigative effort was things didn’t always work out. There was no substitute for good police work, but Lady Luck had to be smiling on the effort. Not today.
“It was possible that she took a bus or cab,” reminded Chloe.
“You’re right. Just hoping for a break,” said Josh.
Manny walked away, running his hands through his hair, and suddenly turned back to Josh. Josh’s pulse rate rose. He’d seen that look a few times, and the man was plain scary when he had it. It was like he had a third eye that extended into a dimension where only Manny could venture.
“Didn’t you say Max was going to send you a list of all the Corvettes registered in Florida?” asked Manny.
Josh pursed his lips. “Yeah. Sorry. In the excitement, I forgot about the list.”
“Let’s take a look,” said Chloe.
Sophie pushed very close to Josh’s right arm. “I’ll just stand here.”
“Suit yourself,” he said.
“Always do.”
The three crowded around him as he opened up the file that Max sent, and they went over the registered 1988 Corvettes in Dade County. There were none listed to Ruby Hayes or Simon Hayes. They then scoured the list for all of Florida, still nothing.
Josh rubbed the back of his neck. “This doesn’t make sense, unless we’re wrong about the tires.”
“The odds weren’t perfect, but I thought we had something too,” said Chloe.
“Now what? She’s probably going to kill again, and we’re as clueless as a virgin in a brothel,” said Sophie.
“I don’t think so,” said Manny, the excitement never leaving his eyes.
Josh stared at his friend, wondering what he’d seen that the rest hadn’t.
“Let me see the list again.”
Josh handed him the phone. “I know you’re not a big tech guy, but I guess you can figure out how to scroll the list?”
Manny didn’t respond. He was already working his way down the phone list, then he stopped.
“Clever girl,” Manny whispered. He turned to Josh. “This is her. I’d bet on it.”
Josh looked at the screen, then back to Manny. “The address can’t be more than a half an hour from here, but how does the name Emeralda Garfield convert to Ruby Hayes?”
“Garfield was the president after Hayes, and Emeralda . . . emerald and ruby, both precious gems. Besides, it’s the only address that fits our theory.”
“So you’re making shit up about the president thing?” asked Sophie.
“You’ll have to check it out on Google and tell me later.”
Chloe shrugged. “It could fit the personality. She likes games, and she obviously thinks she’s smarter than us.”
“There’s one way to find out. She had to have a driver’s license to plate the car,” said Manny.
At that moment, Josh knew Manny was right. He dialed Max and had him get into the Florida DMV records and send back a picture of Emeralda Garfield.
Five minutes later, the special agent fixed his eyes on the picture Max had forwarded.
“Well?” asked Sophie.
“See for yourselves.”
He turned the phone to the other three. Her hair was longer and blond, but Ruby Hayes stared at them from Emeralda Garfield’s driver’s license.
Chapter-32
Manny leaned on the Feds’ black SUV and watched the setting sun dance behind two of Miami’s tallest skyscrapers. He felt that old familiar exhilaration reach up and tap him on the shoulder. They were ready to take a killer off the street. It was one more of those positive sensations that had been completely negated by the misery of the last year. But he wasn’t giving in to the guilt and pain. He was determined to enjoy tonight, no exceptions.
He stood up straight and ran his hand through his hair, ignoring the negative emotions completely. Manny had enough other things to dwell on, and besides, there was only so much room in any one person’s thought for emotional floggings.
Glancing to his right, he saw the Miami SWAT team getting instructions from Josh, Chloe standing near, along with Detective Swifton, taking it all in. Things seemed to be moving as they should be, and he was grateful to be a part of it. Real grateful. With any luck, Ruby would be in jail in a few hours, and they just might have a better picture of why Richardson and the others had died. Running his hand through his hair, he again thought how Argyle-like this whole thing had been: except the getting caught part. But Eli Jenkins had been caught, hadn’t he?
Stop it. The man is more on your mind than Jen.
“So, are you ready for a little action?” asked Sophie as she approached on his left with Max and Alex in tow.
“Yeah. I really am. This is why we got into the business, and it’s been a long time since I sailed with this ship. You guys all set?”
Alex nodded. “We are. Hopefully we won’t be needed, but it does feel good to be part of bringing this one in.” He glanced at Sophie. “Just make sure Annie Oakley over here doesn’t get too close. Somebody will get hurt.”
“You talking shit already, Dough Boy? Just remember, I don’t need a gun to kick your ass. We Chinese can kill with a thought.”
“Yes, but your special talent is with your mouth, so I guess you’re going to talk me to death, right?”
She pleaded with Manny. “Just one time, come on, just one time. I won’t break too many bones, I promise.”
“I think we better wait until this is over; we might need him.”
She glared at Alex with a twinkle that was hard to miss. “He saved your ass again, but someday . . .”
Max turned to Manny. “So the Miami PD did all of the footwork?”
“Yes. They verified that the Corvette parked on the side street, around that corner, is hers. They did a quick analysis of the driver’s license signatures of both Ruby and Emeralda, and they got a ninety-nine-percent match. They also had undercover foot soldiers up and down the beach all afternoon and one of them got a glimpse of her coming out of the condo. She’s changed her hair, but it was definitely her.”
“What’s the plan for going in?” asked Sophie.
“They want to wait for the beach to clear a little more, and the best thing would be to have her come out of the building and nail her as she heads for the car. If we’re right, she has at least one more contract to honor, so I say she’ll make an exit tonight.”
“If she doesn’t?” asked Max.
“The SWAT guys will evict her, the old-fashioned way, and she’ll probably die in the process.”
“Not exactly what we want,” said the voice to his right.
Chloe and Josh had joined them. The excitement was obvious in Josh’s voice.
“You’re right. The preferred scenario would be if we could find out who’s behind these hits and why. Right now, she’s our best hope for that,” said Manny.
Suddenly, Manny felt a little uneasy. Who was behind these killings?
Chloe shook her head. “It’s not like her to be sloppy with that information. I saw a few hit-man profiles when working the terrorism and the organized crime units, and they never gleaned any information as to where they were getting their instructions from or how. There was just nowhere to start.”
Chloe’s words rang true and altered his train of thought. Argyle really had him by the shorthairs sometimes. There were a myriad of people who could be behind this.
“I know you’re right, but unless I miss my guess, she doesn’t suspect we’ve found her and that could really work to our advantage,” said Manny.
“Let’s hope so,” said Josh.
“If she doesn’t come out on her own, the SWAT team is going in at 9:30 sharp. It will be fully dark by then, at least as close to dark as it can get with all of the streetlights in this area. I hate it that there are so many people close to this, but if we do our job, no problems.”
Josh motioned to Manny. “You, Sophie, and Alex will set up in that alley across the street from her car. Chloe, Max, and I will do th
e same in that empty storefront on the other side of her vehicle. We also put a Denver Boot on the right front tire, so hopefully she won’t notice it, or at least not until it’s too late. Miami PD has twenty-four officers and detectives scattered up and down the street and a whole team guarding the back entrance of her condo—and of course, the SWAT team. There’s also an ambulance on the next block if we need them.”
“Damn. Talk about freaking overkill,” said Sophie.
“That’s what we Feds do, and why I make the big bucks,” said Josh.
“You know, Josh, when this is over, I’ll still have a day before the cruise ship leaves, so maybe you can take me to dinner. You still haven’t seen the new ladies,” pointed out Sophie.
Manny raised his hand. “Sophie. Really? Now?”
“Okay. Okay. Just trying to help ease the tension, you old grouchy-ass.”
“We’d have to call the wife to see if that’s okay anyway,” said Josh.
“Don’t encourage her,” said Manny.
Manny watched Josh exhale, then give last-minute instructions. “Before this operation gets into high gear, check your headsets and weapons. We need to make sure everything is working, and let me remind you, this woman is not only a killer-for-hire, but like Manny and Chloe said, has probably gone down the psychopath road. You have to be careful, and if push comes to shove, shoot and ask questions later. Are we clear on that?”
Manny still admired how Josh was in his element when he took over a situation. Maybe those rumors were true. Maybe the man was up for the job of next assistant director of the FBI. He’d be perfect for it.
Sophie saluted. “Aye, aye, Captain. The shooting thing is what I’ve been waiting for.”
“Let’s get ready, you two,” Manny said, grabbing Sophie’s arm and motioning to Alex. He led them toward the alley, Alex bringing up the rear.
They reached the entrance and Alex crinkled his nose. “Good to know that garbage smells the same in Miami as it does in Lansing. This is rank.”
“You crack me up,” said Sophie. “You smell dead bodies and all of that kind of stuff, but a few rotten vegetables and some spoiled milk make you whine like a little girl.”