“But look closer. There’s a gap where the glove ends here, and the sleeve begins there.”
Payne moved closer to the screen and stared. “I’ll be damned! You’re right. I can see the edge of each garment.”
“You thought they overlapped because of his skin. Whoever put the tape on the door is black. Not coffee and cream like me, but pure black. I’m talking hold the milk, hold the sugar, hold the freakin’ water black.”
“Hey,” Payne interrupted. “What’s that on his arm?”
“Where?”
“Right between the glove and sleeve. Is that a tattoo?”
Jones crouched in front of the TV and considered the question. Unfortunately, the image was too dark to see things conclusively. “Hang on a sec. Let me change the brightness on the TV. It might help.”
Payne stared at the screen as it brightened. “It might be a tattoo, but I honestly don’t know.”
“Don’t worry. I know a way we can find out. I have a computer program at my office that lets me blow up video images, alter color schemes, manipulate contrast, and so on. I’ll take the disc over there and see if I can learn anything else.”
“Sounds good to me.” Payne reached for the eject button, but before he pressed it, Jones grabbed his arm.
“Listen,” he said in a sympathetic voice, “I wasn’t going to mention this, but I have to be upfront with you. There’s still one thing we need to check. I was going to wait until later, but I feel you deserve to be with me when it’s done.”
“What are you talking about? What do you need to check?”
Jones placed his hand on Payne’s broad shoulder and squeezed. “The peephole camera records image and sound, right? I mean, we heard the alarm system beeping, didn’t we?”
“Yeah, so?”
Jones swallowed hard. “The video of what happened this morning is obviously unwatchable because of the duct tape, but there’s a good chance that we might be able to hear this morning’s events after the peephole was blocked.”
“Oh, God, you’re right! Put it on!”
“Jon, keep in mind if something did happen to Ariane, it might be painful to—”
“Put it on! I’ve got to know what happened.”
Jones nodded, then hit the appropriate button on the remote. After several seconds of silence, the faint sound of a doorbell could be heard from the blank TV screen. It was followed by a loud, rhythmic knock.
“You’re early,” Ariane complained. “I’m still getting ready.”
A brief silence followed her comment before a faint giggle emerged from the speaker.
“First you’re early, now you’re covering the peephole!”
Beeps from the security system chimed in the tape’s background.
“I’ll tell you what, Jonathon, I’m going to kick your butt all over the golf course. There’s no doubt about that!”
Her comment was followed by the click of a deadbolt, the twist of the door handle, and—
Jones pushed the pause button and glanced at Payne, whose face was completely ashen. “Are you sure you want to hear this?”
“Yeah,” Payne muttered, his voice trembling with emotion. He didn’t really want to, but if he was going to help Ariane, he knew he had no choice. “Play the disc.”
“Are you sure?”
Payne shook his head from side to side. “But play it anyways.”
With the touch of a button, Ariane screamed like a banshee, sending chills through Payne and Jones. As her wail echoed through the room, it was quickly replaced by heavy footsteps, muffled squeals, and then the most frightening sound of all.
Silence.
CHAPTER 12
WHILE Holmes, Jackson, and Webster had breakfast in the mansion, Hakeem Ndjai, an unmerciful man who’d been hired as the Plantation overseer, took control of the captives.
Even though he was a valuable part of the Plantation team, his foreign heritage excluded him from the decision-making hierarchy. He had been handpicked by
Payne moved closer to the screen and stared. “I’ll be damned! You’re right. I can see the edge of each garment.”
“You thought they overlapped because of his skin. Whoever put the tape on the door is black. Not coffee and cream like me, but pure black. I’m talking hold the milk, hold the sugar, hold the freakin’ water black.”
“Hey,” Payne interrupted. “What’s that on his arm?”
“Where?”
“Right between the glove and sleeve. Is that a tattoo?”
Jones crouched in front of the TV and considered the question. Unfortunately, the image was too dark to see things conclusively. “Hang on a sec. Let me change the brightness on the TV. It might help.”
Payne stared at the screen as it brightened. “It might be a tattoo, but I honestly don’t know.”
“Don’t worry. I know a way we can find out. I have a computer program at my office that lets me blow up video images, alter color schemes, manipulate contrast, and so on. I’ll take the disc over there and see if I can learn anything else.”
“Sounds good to me.” Payne reached for the eject button, but before he pressed it, Jones grabbed his arm.
“Listen,” he said in a sympathetic voice, “I wasn’t going to mention this, but I have to be upfront with you. There’s still one thing we need to check. I was going to wait until later, but I feel you deserve to be with me when it’s done.”
“What are you talking about? What do you need to check?”
Jones placed his hand on Payne’s broad shoulder and squeezed. “The peephole camera records image and sound, right? I mean, we heard the alarm system beeping, didn’t we?”
“Yeah, so?”
Jones swallowed hard. “The video of what happened this morning is obviously unwatchable because of the duct tape, but there’s a good chance that we might be able to hear this morning’s events after the peephole was blocked.”
“Oh, God, you’re right! Put it on!”
“Jon, keep in mind if something did happen to Ariane, it might be painful to—”
“Put it on! I’ve got to know what happened.”
Jones nodded, then hit the appropriate button on the remote. After several seconds of silence, the faint sound of a doorbell could be heard from the blank TV screen. It was followed by a loud, rhythmic knock.
“You’re early,” Ariane complained. “I’m still getting ready.”
A brief silence followed her comment before a faint giggle emerged from the speaker.
“First you’re early, now you’re covering the peephole!”
Beeps from the security system chimed in the tape’s background.
“I’ll tell you what, Jonathon, I’m going to kick your butt all over the golf course. There’s no doubt about that!”
Her comment was followed by the click of a deadbolt, the twist of the door handle, and—
Jones pushed the pause button and glanced at Payne, whose face was completely ashen. “Are you sure you want to hear this?”
“Yeah,” Payne muttered, his voice trembling with emotion. He didn’t really want to, but if he was going to help Ariane, he knew he had no choice. “Play the disc.”
“Are you sure?”
Payne shook his head from side to side. “But play it anyways.”
With the touch of a button, Ariane screamed like a banshee, sending chills through Payne and Jones. As her wail echoed through the room, it was quickly replaced by heavy footsteps, muffled squeals, and then the most frightening sound of all.
Silence.
CHAPTER 12
WHILE Holmes, Jackson, and Webster had breakfast in the mansion, Hakeem Ndjai, an unmerciful man who’d been hired as the Plantation overseer, took control of the captives.
Even though he was a valuable part of the Plantation team, his foreign heritage excluded him from the decision-making hierarchy. He had been handpicked by
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