Then the shadow detached from the background, moved again. This time, quickly. Jessica deduced that whoever had driven in had crossed the lot, spotted Kristina Jakos's body, and then returned to his or her vehicle at a run. Seconds later, the car circled out from behind the building and sped for the exit onto Flat Rock Road. Then the surveillance video returned to its static status. Just the small light-colored smear near the river, the smudge that had once been a human life.
Mateo rewound the tape until the point just before the car drove away. He hit PLAY and let it run until they had a good angle on the rear of the automobile as it turned onto Flat Rock Road. He froze the image.
"Can you tell what kind of car that is?" Byrne asked Jessica. Her years in the Auto Unit made her the resident automobile expert. Although she didn't know some of the 2006 and 2007 models, she was good with luxury cars over the past decade. The auto unit dealt with a lot of stolen luxury cars.
"Looks like a BMW," Jessica said.
"Can we move in on that?" Byrne asked.
"Does ursus americanus defecate in its natural habitat?" Mateo asked.
Byrne glanced at Jessica, shrugged. Neither of them had any idea what Mateo was talking about. "I suppose it does," Byrne said. Sometimes you had to humor Officer Fuentes.
Mateo worked his dials. The image increased in size, but did not become significantly clearer. It was definitely the BMW logo on the car's trunk.
"Can you tell what model that is?" Byrne asked.
"It looks like a 525i," Jessica said.
"What about the plate?"
Mateo shifted the image, pulled back some. The image was just a whitish gray rectangle of a smear, and there was only half of it at that.
"That's it?" Byrne asked.
Mateo glowered at him. "What do you think we do down here, Detective?"
"I've never been quite sure," Byrne said.
"You need to stand back to see it."
"How far back?" Byrne asked. "Camden?"
Mateo centered the image on the screen, zoomed in. Jessica and Byrne took a few steps back, squinted at the resulting image. Nothing. A few more steps. They were now out in the hallway.
"What do you think?" Jessica asked.
"I don't see anything," Byrne said.
They moved back as far as they could. The image on the screen was highly pixilated, but it was starting to take shape. It looked like the first two letters were HO. HO.
HORNEE1, Jessica thought. She tossed a glance at Byrne, who said aloud what she was thinking:
"Son of a bitch."
47
David Hornstrom sat in one of the four interrogation rooms in the homicide unit. He had come in under his own power, and that was a good thing. If they had gone to pick him up for questioning an entirely different dynamic would have been in place.
Jessica and Byrne compared notes and strategies. They entered the small, battered space, which was not much bigger than a walk-in closet. Jessica sat, Byrne stood behind Hornstrom. Tony Park and Josh Bon- trager observed through the two-way mirror.
"We just need to clear a few things up," Jessica said. This was standard cop-speak for We don't want to have to chase you all over the city if it turns out you are our doer.
"Couldn't we have done this at my office?" Hornstrom asked.
"Do you like to work out of your office, Mr. Hornstrom?" Byrne asked.
"Of course."
"So do we."
Hornstrom just stared, bested. After a few moments he crossed his legs, folded his hands in his lap. "Are you any closer to finding out what happened to that woman?" Conversational, now. This was standard creep-speak for I have something to hide, but I firmly believe that I am smarter than you are.
"I believe we are," Jessica said. "Thanks for asking."
Hornstrom nodded, as if he had just scored a point with the police. "We're all kind of freaked out down at the office."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, it's not every day that something like this happens. I mean, you guys run into it all the time. We're just a bunch of salesmen."
"Have you heard anything from your colleagues that might help with our investigation?"
"Not really."
Jessica looked daggers, waiting. "Would that be not really, or no?"
"Well, no. That was just a figure of speech."
"Ah, okay," Jessica said, thinking, You're under arrest for obstruction of justice. That's another figure of speech. She flipped back through her notes. "You stated that you had not been back to the Manayunk property for a week prior to our first interview."
"That's correct."
"Were you in town that week?"
Hornstrom thought for a moment. "Yes."
Jessica slid a large manila envelope onto the table. For the moment she left it closed. "Are you familiar with the Pustelnik Restaurant Supply Company?"
"Sure," Hornstrom said. The color was starting to rise in his face. He leaned back slightly, putting a few extra inches between himself and Jessica. The first sign of defense.
"Well, it turns out they've had a theft problem there for quite some time," Jessica said. She undid the clasp on the envelope. Hornstrom didn't seem able to take his eyes off it. "A few months ago the owners installed surveillance cameras on all four sides of the building. Were you aware of that?"
Hornstrom shook his head. Jessica reached into the nine-by-twelve envelope, extracted a photograph, placed it on the scarred metal table.
"This is a still photograph taken from the surveillance tape," she said. "The camera was the one on the side facing the warehouse where Kristina Jakos was found. Your warehouse. It was taken the morning Kristina's body was discovered."
Hornstrom glanced casually at the photograph. "Okay."
"Would you take a closer look at it, please?"
Hornstrom picked up the photograph, scrutinized it. He swallowed hard. "I'm not sure what it is I'm supposed to be looking for." He put the photograph back down.
"Can you read the time stamp in the lower right-hand corner?" Jessica asked.
"Yes," Hornstrom said. "I see it. But I don't-"
"Can you see the automobile in the upper right-hand corner?"
Hornstrom squinted. "Not really," he said. Jessica could see the man's body language shift to an even more defensive posture. Arms crossed. Jaw muscles tightened. He began to tap his right foot. "I mean I can see something. I guess it could be a car."
"Maybe this will help," Jessica said. She took out another photograph, this one an enlargement of the automobile. It showed the left side of the trunk and a partial license plate. The BMW logo was somewhat clear. David Hornstrom paled immediately.
"That's not my car."
"That's the model you drive," Jessica said. "A black 525i."
"You can't be sure of that."
"Mr. Hornstrom, I spent three years in the Auto Unit. I can tell the difference between a 525i and a 530i in the dark."
"Yeah, but there are lots of these on the road."
"That's true," Jessica said. "But how many have that license plate?"
"To me it looks like HG. That's not necessarily HO."
"Don't you think we ran every black BMW 525i in Pennsylvania looking for registered plates that might be similar?" The truth was, they hadn't. But David Hornstrom didn't have to know that.
"This… this doesn't mean anything," Hornstrom said. "Anyone with Photoshop could have done this."
It was true. It would never stand up in court. The reason Jessica put it on the table was to rattle David Hornstrom. It was starting to work. On the other hand, he looked like a man about to ask for a lawyer. They needed to back off a little.