Using this, Bobby accessed the website where the footage from the incident at the Tehachapi roadblock had been uploaded. He clicked around for a bit, then said, “Found it.”
He downloaded the video and transferred it into the editing software.
Before hitting PLAY, he looked back at Tamara. “You’re sure?”
“I’m sure,” she said quickly. “Play it.”
Together they watched the video all the way through. Tamara had told Bobby and Joe what she believed she saw, but had said nothing to anyone else. Every time the network replayed the video, she had watched it, pointing out to them the man she was sure was her brother.
Bobby and Joe tried to reassure her by saying things like “you can’t tell for sure,” and “the resolution isn’t the best so you could have made a mistake,” and “why would he even be there?”
As sure as she was, she wanted to believe them, so she had stared at the video every time it came on, but every time she came to the same conclusion. It was Gavin.
The reason she couldn’t be absolutely positive, though, was that she had no control over what she was watching. She hadn’t been able to stop it or start it or reverse it. She had to watch it all the way through, then wait until the network decided to show it again. But now that the truck was here, she had access to the equipment that would allow her to take a better look.
“Go back to the part right before he’s shot, and hold it,” she said.
Bobby scrolled back, then hit pause. The problem with video, especially lower resolution video, was that the clarity of the picture came from the motion. A single frame often looked blurry, with less detail. Such was the case here. The man she was sure was her brother wasn’t much more than an indistinct human figure when paused on the screen.
“Can you go back a second or two,” she said, “then scroll back and forth through this section until I tell you to stop?”
“Sure,” Bobby replied.
He took it back to where the man in question turned in the direction of the camera, then he started moving forward through the footage at half speed. They had just passed the point where they’d originally paused when she said, “Stop.”
The image on the screen froze again.
“You see that?” She pointed at the man’s left arm.
“It’s an arm,” Joe said.
“On the arm. Those dots.” There were three dark spots visible on the exposed underside.
“That could just be digital noise,” Bobby said.
She pointed again. “Gavin has a tattoo on the inside of his left arm. One big dot, and two smaller. He was on the swim team in high school. It’s the molecule model for water.”
The two men looked at the screen again. Bobby then played that portion back and forth a couple of times. It was clear the dots were not digital artifacts, but were indeed on the man’s arm.
“Jesus,” Bobby said.
A tear began rolling down Tamara’s cheek. There was no denying it now — Gavin was the one who’d been shot.
“Play it ahead some,” she said. “Let’s see if we can figure out who did this to him.”
Bobby moved the video forward.
In all the times Tamara had watched it at normal speed, she had been unable to spot anyone who might have shot her brother. Her fear was that slowing the footage down wouldn’t change that.
“Wait, wait,” Joe said. “Play that last part back.”
“What did you see?” Tamara asked. Whatever it was, she had missed it.
“It may have been nothing.”
Bobby played the segment again, this time going super slow.
“There,” Joe said. “That guy.”
He was pointing at a man behind Gavin. The guy’s eyes were clearly fixed on Tamara’s brother. Something bright popped into view near the man’s waist for just a couple of frames, then the man disappeared behind Gavin. Two seconds later in real time, Gavin would be shot.
“What was that?” Tamara asked, referring to the bright spot.
“Gun, I think,” Bobby said.
“Then that’s him.”
Bobby froze the video. “This is right before your brother gets shot.”
“The man’s barely on screen,” Joe said. “No wonder we didn’t notice him before.”
The video didn’t actually show the man shooting Gavin, but it was clear to all three of them he had.
The question for Tamara now was, what was she going to do about it?
28
The plane arrived two and a half hours later, landing on a private airstrip on ranch land about a half-mile from the Lodge. It was a Gulfstream G250 business jet, outfitted for four passengers plus crew. After it was checked and refueled, Matt led Ash and Chloe aboard.
The main cabin was separated from the cockpit, so while Ash knew the flight crew was up front, he had no idea who they were. The cabin itself boasted four comfortable-looking leather chairs. The forward two had tables in front of them, while the back two did not. Chloe immediately went for one in the back, while Ash chose a seat up front, tucking the messenger bag that now served as his suitcase under it.
Ash was cleaned up as best as possible, but still looked like he’d been in a major accident. Rachel had cut his hair so it was now a uniform quarter-inch all the way around. She then did a quick bleach job making it and his eyebrows about three shades lighter than they’d been. The final touch had been contact lenses that changed the color of his eyes from blue to brown. He had two extra pairs in his bag as backups.
One thing was for sure: No one who used to know him would recognize him now.
“Pax will fly out with you, but this is as far as I go,” Matt said, holding out his hand. “You’re a good man, Ash. Get them back.”
As Ash shook with him, he said, “Thanks for all the help you’ve given me.”
“I’ve posted a message for our person on the inside, telling him you and Chloe are coming. He might get it, he might not. Even if he does, he might not be able to do anything to help, but…well, I’m sure he’ll try.” He paused. “Pax will give you a number to memorize. Any time you get in trouble, you call that, now or in the future, and we’ll do what we can to help.” Matt smiled, then glanced toward the back of the plane. “Chloe, good to see you again. Stay safe.”
“No such thing,” she said.
She was calmer than any of the other times Ash had seen her, but he could still sense a cloud of nervous tension hovering around her.
“The window shades will be automatically lowered before takeoff,” Matt told him. “It’s not that we don’t trust you, but we have certain procedures we need to stand by.”
Ash shrugged. He didn’t really care where Matt and Rachel’s ranch was. He was focused on his destination. On his children.
Matt hung in the doorway as if he had something more he wanted to say, but he finally just gave Ash a nod and got out.
When Pax climbed in a few minutes later, he was carrying two cases — one a normal-sized briefcase, and the other a metal-sided container that could have easily fit a small microwave oven inside. He stored the metal container in a cabinet up front, then put the briefcase on the seat next to Ash. After securing the outer door, he gave the entrance to the cockpit a double tap and returned to his seat.
“Hold this,” he said, handing the briefcase to Ash.
As he buckled himself in, a low hum filled the cabin, and hard plastic shades lowered over the windows. To compensate for the loss of sunlight, the interior lights brightened.
Pax leaned over to take the case back, but then stopped. “Might as well do this now.”
Outside, the dull roar of the engines grew in intensity.
“Open it up,” Pax said.
The plane started rolling down the runway. It was slow at first, but quickly picked up speed. There was no taxiing here, just get on and go.
Ash popped the latches on the briefcase and flipped it open. Inside was a padded envelope and two file folders.