Code Name: Genesis (Jameson Force Security #1)(33)

“Went for a run,” Rachel replies. “But come over here and take a look… Bebe’s just uploaded the video I got from that flower shop yesterday.”

While Joslyn and I had flown to Cunningham Falls so she could hash it out with her mom, Rachel had gone to the shop where we believe the stalker purchased the sunflowers. They indeed had security video, but the owner wasn’t in and was the only one who could authorize the information to be released to Rachel. She had to wait around until late afternoon, and then the owner proved to be quite the bugger. He couldn’t be convinced to turn the footage over out of the goodness of his heart to help catch a sick fuck who tried to murder someone. He did, however, respond to the color green. Eventually, Rachel negotiated a payment of two thousand dollars in return for a flash drive with the security footage.

I grab a cup, pour some coffee, and walk around the island to come up behind Bebe and Rachel.

“Here we go,” Bebe says, then the footage of the inside of the flower shop starts to roll. The camera is set up in a corner, behind the register and facing outward to the interior of the shop through to the glass entrance door. The imagery is grayscale, and the quality just a tad better than overly grainy.

“Go to 11:47 on the video,” Rachel tells Bebe, who then uses the scroll bar to advance the footage forward.

“There,” Rachel exclaims, and Bebe slows the footage to regular speed.

At first, all I see is a female customer perusing a shelf of knickknacks. The flower shop is what I’d expect. A big cooler of premade arrangements on one wall. Shelves with overpriced trinkets.

“There he is,” Rachel murmurs as the glass door opens. A blond man of medium height and build walks in. Everything about him is nondescript except for the fact he’s wearing his sunglasses inside. He doesn’t bother to remove them or push them onto his head. He’s wearing jeans and a long-sleeved shirt despite the warmth of the day, and that tells me he might have an identifying mark he’s trying to conceal. Maybe a birth mark or tattoo.

He strides up to the counter to talk to the shop employee there. They have an incredibly brief conversation before she steps out of camera range, presumably to a back room. We watch in silence as the time stamp ticks away. About fifteen minutes later, the woman comes back with the exact style of flower arrangement—sunflowers—that was found at the edge of Joslyn’s property.

“That’s him for sure,” Rachel says.

“Indeed,” I mutter, then nod to the screen. “Play it again.”

Bebe rewinds it, and the three of us watch again. I notice a few things. The man is smart enough to keep his face angled away from the camera. The oversized aviators he’s wearing hide a nice chunk of his face, but his refusal to face the camera head-on tells me he’s aware of the camera’s position and knows the power of the more advanced facial recognition software out there. What he doesn’t know is I don’t have the exact product yet, but I’m getting an advanced version that’s being created right now by the Defense Intelligence Agency. Until then, I’ll have to send this video off for scanning, but I doubt we’d get anything useful because the guy is being overly cautious.

While he waits for the arrangement to be made, he pulls out a phone and surfs on it, turning fully away from the camera. He pays for the arrangement in cash and then leaves.

“Once again,” I tell Bebe, but in truth, I’ll probably watch this video a good dozen times before I’m satisfied I’ve gleaned all the necessary information from it.

It starts once more, and Rachel moves from her stool to the coffee pot for a refill. I lean inward to get a better look.

“Is that him?” Joslyn’s voice hits me from behind, and it sounds a little gruff as if she’d just woken up. Sure enough, when I twist, she’s there in a silk robe that hits just above her knees with her hair a wild mess. She looks utterly fuckable.

Stepping back slightly, I motion her forward to have a closer look. She does, wrapping her arms protectively around her stomach as she watches the video. When it gets to the part where the employee leaves to make the arrangement and he turns away from the camera even more to surf on his phone, I ask Joslyn, “Do you recognize him?”

Her eyes don’t leave the screen, but she gives a slight shake of her head. Her voice is soft and tentative. “He was wearing a ski mask.”

I already knew that. Besides, it wasn’t really what I was seeking. I was wondering if there was an overall recognition she felt upon seeing him, especially if she’d seen him somewhere else and hadn’t known who it was. But I don’t push her on it.

“I never understood that,” she murmurs, her eyes still riveted on Bebe’s computer screen.

“What’s that?” Bebe asks.

“Why he’d wear a mask to kill me.” My skin turns cold from her words. “I mean… not like I could identify him, right?”

“He was worried about you having security cameras in your house,” I answer, resisting the urge to put a protective arm around her. I want to pull her into my side so she knows I will handle every single vulnerability she’s feeling right now and make it all go away.

She nods, a slight acknowledgment she hears me as she continues watching the video. We’re all silent, Rachel staying on the other side of the counter as she sips her coffee. The video ends, and I don’t ask Bebe to replay it as I don’t want Joslyn to look at him anymore.