Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
Aiden leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes.
They burned from staring at the screen for so long, trying to make sense of the barely visible numbers and letters.
The back of the van was splattered with mud, and dirt obscured ninety percent of the license plate.
He'd been running a combination of potential numerals, but so far had come up empty.
He glanced up as Kennedy approached, looking just as tired and frustrated as Aiden felt. “How's it going?”
Aiden gestured impatiently at the screen. “Same as it was about an hour ago.”
The first digit on the license plate he suspected was either an E or an F.
The fourth digit was what he thought looked like a nine.
One of the techs was running all of the license plates with numbers that fell within that particular sequence, but even narrowing it down to white vans, there were still too many options. He had to find something else.
He shoved away from his desk and headed to the kitchenette where he refilled his mug with the coffee that had been sitting out for hours. The smell of it alone reminded him of Maya, and his heart twisted. He leaned against the cabinets, stirring his coffee, lost in thought.
Agent Kevin Mazzarra stepped up beside him. “Any leads on your case?”
Aiden sighed and shook his head. “Not yet. What are you guys working on? Still the investment fraud?”
“Yep. Boring as hell.” He nodded and pulled the empty Diet Pepsi can from the koozie and tossed it in the recycle bin.
Aiden’s gaze landed on the logo printed on the insulator, and something sparked in his memory. “Hey, I'll catch you later.”
“Good luck,” Mazzarra called after him.
Aiden headed back to his computer and studied the frame until he found what he was looking for.
He enlarged the picture, focusing on the back of the van.
Mud covered most of it, but what appeared to be several points, like a large sunburst, were situated in the lower left corner just above the bumper.
He waved Kennedy over. “Think this could be a dealership logo?”
He studied the screen, then nodded. “Could be. Too defined to be mud splatter.”
“The van, or this plate at least, is registered in Illinois. Let's pull dealerships within a fifty-mile radius and see if any of them have insignias that might look like this.”
Soon they had a list of 463 dealerships, both new and used, to sift through.
Christ. This was going to take forever. One by one, they pulled them up and crossed them off the list. But on number forty-seven, they hit pay dirt.
The five lines that formed a sort of trident matched the Norton Chevrolet logo.
He picked up the phone and dialed the number for the sales manager.
She answered a few rings later, and he introduced himself. “Ms. Miles, my name is Aiden Taylor with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. I’m wondering if you can help me with something.”
“I can try,” she offered. “What do you need?”
The van itself was a newer model that they had just started producing about five years ago. Aiden relayed to Ms. Miles the model number of the van. “Could you please provide me with a list of purchases from the past five years?”
“I should be able to do that,” she said slowly. “I’ll email you what I find, but I have to warn you, that’s a pretty popular model.”
“No problem. Anything you can do will be helpful.” He gave her his email address then hung up and focused on the screen in front of him, racking his brain for another way to figure out who the hell this guy was.
His thoughts were broken nearly an hour later when his email dinged with a notification.
He opened it and barely held back a groan as he skimmed the long list of names.
At least it was a starting point. He hit the button to print it, then made his way to the printer.
He tipped his head toward Kennedy. “Just got the list of purchases from Norton. Want to help me check them off?”
“Sure.”
Aiden handed him a couple of pages, then returned to his desk. It felt like hours had passed before Kennedy jumped up. “Hey, I think I've got it.”
He passed Aiden the paper with a highlighted name. Jeffrey Wainwright. He tapped the name into the database and held his breath. “White male, thirty-eight years old, brown hair, brown eyes. No priors.”
Either this wasn't the guy they were looking for, or he'd been extremely careful up until now. “Let's check his home address,” he said as he pulled up the address on file with the DMV.
Aiden pinpointed it on the map and took a look at the surrounding areas. Located northwest of town, the area was fairly isolated. He used his index finger to draw a little circle on the map. “No homes within a four-mile radius.”
Which meant no one to run to for help. His gut twisted, and the hairs on the back of his neck lifted.
Kennedy tipped his head. “I think it's a good bet. Let's check it out.”