28. Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Eight
DYLAN
Fuck, I wasn’t sure I had any patience left. I’d barely seen my girl all weekend. Apart from waking up in each other’s arms and going to bed like that too, we’d only spent time together when she stopped by to drop off lunch on both Saturday and Sunday and I stepped away to chat with her for a few minutes.
“There.” Seabass pointed to my computer monitor, where we had video footage from the gas station camera pulled up.
A man wearing a baseball cap disappeared around the back of the gas station, his head lowered, making it impossible to see his face.
“What about a camera behind the building?” he asked.
I shook my head. “No, they’ve only got them at the front and one inside.”
He grunted. The lack of cameras in town, even residences, in Half Moon Lake had been a point of contention for him. All weekend, we’d tracked this guy using the recordings we could find, starting with The Dock. Of course, we still didn’t have a name or much of a description for our suspect, but we were one step closer.
My gut was saying this guy was Hattie’s stalker.
“How do we know it’s the same guy from the footage at The Dock?” Aiden leaned forward to examine the blurry image that was now paused on my screen.
On Friday, when I’d sent Seabass to the station, Aiden had shown him what we’d pulled from the marina side of The Dock and the footage Randy had sent us from the camera mounted at the back of his shop. He’d had problems with vandalism last year and had installed one to watch the fenced lot where he kept customer cars overnight.
“Let me show you.” Seabass clicked a few files and pulled up four images. “Here’s the one of him running toward the woods near The Dock.” He minimized that photo and dipped his chin. “This one is behind Randy’s shop.” A third image. “This one is out front of the florist.” Then there was one final still shot. “This one from the gas station. All the same hoodie and baseball cap.”
We’d collected as much footage from the businesses along Main Street as we could, tracking this guy until he disappeared down the road leading out of town. The gas station where the first burner was purchased was the only establishment on that road for at least five miles.
“Okay. I’m going to pull a few guys to comb the area around the gas station.” Aiden squinted at the screen. “Looks like he pulls a plastic bag from the pouch of his hoodie as he disappears around the corner.”
I nodded, noticing that as well. But it had been five days since that night at The Dock. I doubted we’d find anything.
“You and I can go talk with the gas station manager.” Aiden headed toward our captain’s office, probably to see who we could pull to help us out. “Maybe the attendant working that night will recognize this asshole,” he said over his shoulder.
My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I pulled it out.
Hattie: What time should I bring lunch over?
I glanced at my watch. Almost eleven o’clock already? Damn.
Me: We’re heading out for a bit. Why don’t I text you when we’re on our way back?
Hattie: Okay
I tucked my phone away, and when I looked up, Seabass was watching me, one brow cocked.
He shook his head. “Great, another one who can’t keep it in his pants.”
Anger sizzling in my veins, I glared at him.
“Just stating the obvious.” He smirked, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I asked Nick to send a few guys down to help with protection when Hattie visits her new niece.”
“Thanks.” I huffed. “Although I think Kyle is being over-the-top.”
She had plenty of protection between Ethan, Seabass, and me, but Kyle wasn’t satisfied, and our station was small. We didn’t have the manpower to humor him.
“Yeah, maybe. But I get it. He wants to make sure his family is safe.”
Yeah, I supposed I did too. So far, the stalker had stayed in the shadows, but that could change in the blink of an eye.
The whole way to the gas station, all I could think about was what it would be like if I could go home tonight and tell Hattie we got him.
The jolt of excitement was followed by dread, because once we caught the stalker, Hattie would move back to her apartment. I wanted her safe, and I was desperate to get this guy behind bars, but the thought of her being anywhere but in my house with me sat like lead in my gut.
After talking with the gas station manager and the attendant who was on shift that night, we’d gotten no new information. I drove back to the station with my hands clenched tight around the wheel. Why couldn’t we catch a single break in this damn case? Who was this guy? A ghost?
Neither the manager nor the attendant recognized him. The best shot we had of the fucker showed little more than a baseball cap, one ear, and his jaw. The only thing we knew was that he was a white male.
We did find a plastic bag of spray paint behind the dumpster out back, but I had little hope that we’d pull prints from any of the items. If he was smart enough to use stolen tags, it was safe to assume that he’d worn gloves. Though maybe he wasn’t all that smart, since he didn’t bother to ensure the bag of spray paint actually landed in the dumpster rather than falling behind it.
The silver lining here was that I had another night with my girl. Did that make me a selfish bastard? Maybe. But being with her was everything I never knew I’d been missing.