“Um, two on the side,” Noone said. “It’s a four-door.”
“Good. Now come around to the front. Do you see any damage to the car. Any dents or noticeable scratches?”
“No.”
“Is there any striping on the car?”
“Mmm, no.”
“How about the bumper? Can you see the front bumper?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, I want you to take your remote and zoom in on that bumper. Can you see the license plate?”
“No.”
“Why not, James?”
“It’s covered.”
“What’s covering it?”
“Uh, there’s a T-shirt on it. It’s wrapped around the bumper so it covers the plate. Looks like a T-shirt.”
McCaleb glanced over at Winston and could see the disappointment on her face. He pressed on.
“Okay, James, take your remote and zoom up into the car, can you do that?”
“Okay.”
“How many people are in that Cherokee?”
“One. The driver.”
“All right, zoom in on him. Tell me what you see.”
“Can’t really.”
“Why not? What’s wrong?”
“The lights. He’s got the brights on. The glare is too much, I can’t-”
“Okay, James, what I want you to do is take the remote and move the picture. Go back and forth until you have the best view of the driver. Tell me when you have that.”
McCaleb looked back at Winston and she looked back with raised eyebrows. They both knew that they would soon find out if this had been worth it or not.
“Okay,” James said.
“Okay, you’re seeing the driver.”
“Yes.”
“Tell us what he looks like. What color is his skin?”
“He’s white but he has a hat and the brim is down. He’s looking downward and the brim covers his face.”
“All of his face?”
“No. I see his mouth.”
“Does he have a beard or mustache?”
“No.”
“Can you see his teeth?”
“No, his mouth is closed.”
“Can you see his eyes?”
“No. That hat is in the way.”
McCaleb sat back and released his breath in frustration. He couldn’t believe this. Noone was a perfect subject. He was in a deep trance and yet they couldn’t get from him what they needed, a direct look at the shooter.
“Okay, are you sure this is the best view of him?”
“I’m sure.”
“Can you see any of his hair?”
“Yes.”
“What color is it?”
“Dark, like a dark brown or maybe black.”
“What length, can you tell?”
“It looks short.”
“What about the hat? Describe the hat.”
“It’s a baseball hat, and it’s gray. Washed-out gray.”
“Okay, is there any writing on the hat or a team logo?”
“There’s a design, like a symbol.”
“Can you describe it?”
“It’s like letters overlapping each other.”
“What letters?”
“It looks like a C with a line cut through. A one or a capital I or a small L. And then there’s a circle-I mean an oval-around the whole thing.”
McCaleb was silent for a moment thinking about this.
“James,” he then said, “if I give you something to draw on, do you think you could open your eyes and draw this design for us?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, I want you to open your eyes.”
McCaleb stood up. Winston had already turned the pad she had on a clipboard to a fresh page. McCaleb took it and her pen and handed both to Noone.
Noone’s eyes were open and staring blankly at the pad as he drew. He then handed it back. The drawing was as he had described it, a vertical line slashing down through a large C. This design was then captured in an oval, McCaleb handed the pad back to Winston, who briefly held it up to the mirrored window so those watching on video could see.
“Okay, James, that was good. Now close your eyes and look at the picture of the driver again. You got it?”
“Yes.”
“Can you see either of his ears?”
“One. His right.”
“Is there anything unusual?”
“No.”
“No earring?”
“No.”
“What about below the ear? His neck, can you see his neck?”
“Yes.”
“Anything unusual there? What do you see?”
“Uh, nothing. Uh, his neck. Just his neck.”
“This is his right side?”
“Yes, right.”
“No tattoo on his neck?”
“No. No tattoo.”
McCaleb blew out his breath again. He had just effectively eliminated Bolotov as a suspect after spending the day building him as one.
“Okay,” he said in a resigned voice, “what about his hands, can you see his hands?”
“On the steering wheel. They’re holding the wheel.”
“See anything unusual? Anything on his fingers?”
“No.”
“No rings?”
“No.”
“Is he wearing a watch?”
“A watch, yes.”
“What kind?”
“I can’t see. I see the band.”
“What kind of band? What color?”
“It’s black.”
“Which wrist is it on, his left or right?”
“His… right. His right.”
“Okay, can you see and describe any of his clothing?”
“Just his shirt. It’s dark. A dark blue sweatshirt.”
McCaleb tried to think of what else to ask. His disappointment in not being able to come up with a substantial lead so far was crowding his focus. Finally, he thought of something he had passed over.
“The windshield, James. Are there any stickers or anything like that on the glass?”
“Mmm, no. I don’t see them.”
“Okay, and take a look at the rearview mirror. Anything on that? Like hanging down or hooked to it?”
“Not that I can see.”
McCaleb now slumped in his chair. This was a disaster. They had lost this man as a potential court witness, eliminated a potential suspect and all they got from it was a detailed description of a baseball cap and a dentless Cherokee. He knew the last step was to take Noone forward to his last view of the Cherokee speeding away, but it was likely that if the front license plate had been covered, so too would be the rear plate.
“Okay, James, let’s hit fast forward to the point that the Cherokee is past you and you are shooting the guy the bird.”
“Okay.”
“Zoom in on the license plate, can you see it?”
“It’s covered.”
“With what?”
“A towel or a T-shirt. I can’t tell. Like the front.”
“Zoom back. Do you see anything unusual about the rear of the car?”
“Mmm, no.”
“Bumper stickers? Or maybe the car dealership’s name on the rear?”
“No, nothing like that.”
“Anything on the window? Any stickers?”
McCaleb registered the desperation in his own voice.
“No, nothing.”
McCaleb looked at Winston and shook his head.
“Anything else?”
Winston shook her head.
“Do you want to bring the artist in?”
She shook her head again.
“You sure?”
She shook her head one more time. McCaleb turned his attention back to Noone though he couldn’t help but think about how this had been a gamble that had not paid off.
“James, over the next few days I want you to think about what you saw on the night of January twenty-second and if anything new comes to mind, if you remember any other details, I want you to call Detective Winston, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Good. Now I’m going to count backward from five and as I do this, you are going to feel your body rejuvenating and you will become more and more alert until I say, ‘One,’ and you become fully alert. You are going to have a high level of energy and feel like you’ve just had eight hours of sleep. You’ll stay awake all the way to Las Vegas but when you go to bed tonight, you won’t have any trouble sleeping. Okay on all of that?”