Chapter Forty Margo Angelhart #2
he and Dr. Klein were involved in, that it would get my uncle fired.”
“And you believed that.” This guy was unbelievable.
“It made sense the way he explained it,” Tim mumbled.
“And then?” Cal pushed.
“The next morning, Peter asked me to come to his office. And then he said he needed the security log wiped to delete the generic
card I created. There was another man in the office with him, someone I’d never seen before.”
“And did you?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
“Do you know who the guy was?”
Tim shook his head. “He was scary-looking. In his forties. All frowning, like he was mad at Peter. I got out of there as quickly
as possible.”
“That tells us nothing,” I snapped.
“Well, later that day I asked Peter if he wanted me to get rid of the security tapes too. Peter was, like, shocked, he hadn’t
even thought there was a video recording. It gets written over every month. He asked what would happen if I deleted the tapes.
I told him I wouldn’t delete them because that would be obvious, but I could copy an old file over the real file. And then
he asked if I could make a copy first, then copy over it. So I did. Peter said that if Carter—that’s what he called him—got
snippity, he’d hold it over him.”
“Please tell me you have a copy,” I said.
“Sure, it’s on a disk in my office.”
“At the VA?”
“It’s labeled ‘backup March 2023.’ ”
The month Klein was murdered.
This might be it. The evidence we needed to get my father out of prison.
But I also needed Tim Miller alive to testify. He had told so many lies to me, to Stockman, to himself. But if that disk existed,
it would prove an unauthorized stranger entered the facility during the time Klein was killed. At least, it would be reasonable
doubt. Dad could rescind his confession. Have a trial. Maybe be let out of prison while he waited for the justice system to
work.
Hope. I had hope, and it all rested on this stupid, stoned tech guy.
“Carter is a common name,” I said. “Description?”
“Um, I only saw him in person once.”
“And you were blind at the time? Describe him!” I was going to lose it. If Tim was justified in being scared, that put us all in danger, and I did not want to die protecting this asshole.
Cal said in an even voice, “How tall was he?”
“Average. Maybe my height?”
That made him five-ten, take or leave.
“White? Black? Brown?” Cal asked.
“White guy. Um, brown hair. Couldn’t really tell his eyes—I didn’t, like, talk to him, you know? Just saw him in Peter’s office
that one time. He’s in shape. Muscles like he works out, but not big weight-lifting muscles. Just good shape.”
“Do you know how many average brown-haired white guys work out at a gym and live in Phoenix?” I snapped.
Cal said, “Distinguishing marks? A scar? Tattoo?”
“Not that I noticed.” He bit his lip.
“Explain how and when you saw him,” Cal said with surprising calm.
“Um, I also have a copy of the disk on my computer? I mean, he’s on it, I’m sure. I only looked at it once.”
I wanted to hit him on the backside of the head like Cal had already done. “So it’s not on a disk in your office?”
“It is,” he assured me, “but I have a copy on my computer because, you know, just in case.”
Maybe not completely stupid.
I looked around and saw a laptop on the small table between the kitchen and living room. I grabbed it, opened it.
“Password,” I demanded.
“Can I do it?” he said. “I’m faster, and I promise, I just want to live.”
I glanced at Cal and he nodded.
I handed over the laptop, but Cal stood behind Tim, and I sat next to him. He reeked of pot and bourbon and I wrinkled my
nose in disgust.
“It’s the security footage from the night Dr. Klein died. Peter asked me to grab all the footage from that night from every entrance.”
Tim Miller had been in the middle of this conspiracy from the beginning. But I refrained from saying anything. I couldn’t
risk losing this evidence.
If it was from the entrances, it wouldn’t prove my dad didn’t kill Klein, but it would at least give the police another viable suspect.
Tim brought up a list of video files and I groaned. This would take forever to go through all of them.
He scrolled down to one in the middle of the list and hit Playback. The video was black-and-white, but high quality. A man
walked in using a key card through the employee entrance of the main hospital. There were no metal detectors at the employee
entrance because it was accessible only with key cards.
Tim paused it on the clearest image. The man was average in every way. Not unattractive, just . . . unremarkable. He wouldn’t
stand out in a crowd. He wore slacks, a dark button-down shirt, and a blazer. He carried nothing in his hands. The blazer
could easily conceal the Sig Sauer that had been used to kill Devin Klein.
I had never seen him before, but I wouldn’t forget him now.
I grabbed the computer from Tim over his protests and sent the video to Jack and Tess with a brief note.
This is the man who killed Devin. His name is Carter. More soon.
“What are all these other files?” I asked Tim.
“Different times, saving one large video would take forever to search through, so I divided them into segments. He’s shown
exiting as well, but this is the clearest image.”
I really hoped that Tim’s manipulation of these files didn’t make them inadmissible in court. I suppose no more so than overwriting the security disks in the first place.
“Do you know anything else about this man?” Cal asked.
“No. I really don’t,” Tim said. “That’s everything I know, I swear to God.”
Tim sipped the coffee and made a face.
“You kept this,” I said, gesturing to the video. “Did you keep the original medical file for Jim Novak too? As leverage.”
He shook his head and looked sad. “I didn’t think of it. I was kind of panicked when the nurse opened a ticket.”
I glanced at Cal, who said, “We’re too isolated out here. We need to leave.”
“You’re not going to leave me here! You promised if I helped you’d protect me!”
“Not exactly,” I muttered, “but no, I’m not going to leave you here. You’re coming with us.”
“This is safer,” he said. “No one knows where I am.”
“How do you know they didn’t follow you? Put a tracker on your car? Hack into your Airbnb account and find out where you’re
staying?”
“I—” But he didn’t have an answer. “Am I being arrested?”
“Not by me,” I said. “Cal?”
“If I arrest him, I have way too much paperwork because this is out of my jurisdiction.” He winked at me.
He didn’t have to say it, but I knew the plan and I liked it.
Turn him over to the FBI. With the laptop, the video, the recording Jack and I had made earlier, and our statements, it should
be enough to hold him.
“Grab your bag, we’re leaving,” I said.
Then the lights went out.