the black mark was, in fact, a tattoo.
Jones scrolled through a number of frames until he found the scene that fit his specific needs. The suspect’s arm was centered perfectly on the monitor, and the gap between the glove and the sleeve was at its widest. Then he zoomed in and sharpened the image.
A few seconds later, Jones smiled in triumph when an elaborate tattoo came into view. The three-inch design was in the shape of the letter P , and it started directly below the palm of the suspect’s hand. The straight edge of the symbol was in the form of an intricately detailed sword, the blade’s handle rising high above the letter’s curve. At the base of the drawing, small drops of blood fell from the weapon’s tip, leaving the impression that it had just been pulled from the flesh of a fallen victim. Finally, dangling from each side of the sword was a series of broken chains, which appeared to be severed near the left and right edge.
As Jones printed several copies of the image, his speakerphone buzzed, followed by the voice of his secretary. “Mr. Payne is on line one.”
With a touch of a button, Jones answered his call. “Jon, any news?”
“I was about to ask you the same thing. I went to the police like you suggested and filled out the appropriate paperwork. It turns out that I knew a few of the officers on duty. They assured me that Ariane would get top priority.”
“Even though she’s only been gone a few hours?”
“Her scream on the surveillance tape and Mr. McNally’s testimony have a lot to do with it. Normally, they’d wait a lot longer before they pursued a missing person, but as I said, the evidence suggests foul play.”
“Did they give you any advice?”
“I wouldn’t call it advice . I think a warning would be more accurate. These cops know me, so they automatically assumed that I would do something stupid to get in their way. Why would they think that?”
Jones smiled. The cops had pegged him perfectly. Payne was definitely the intrusive type. “Instead of giving you the obvious answer, let me tell you what I discovered.” He described the image in detail, then filled him in on a theory. “I think we’re looking for a Holotat.”
“A Holo-what?”
“Holotat.”
Payne scrunched his face. “What the hell is that?”
“Back in World War Two, German guards used to tattoo their prisoners with numbers on their wrists in order to keep track of them. After the war, the people who survived these camps had a constant reminder of the Holocaust, marks that eventually became a source of inspiration.”
“What does that have to do with Ariane?”
“About five years ago, members of Los Diablos, a Hispanic gang from East L.A., decided it would be cool if they tattooed their brothers in a similar fashion, marking them on their wrists. Before then, gangs used to get their tattoos on their arms, chests, or back, but suddenly this trend caught on. Holocaust tattoos, known as Holotats, started popping up everywhere.”
“And you think the P tattoo is a Holotat gang emblem?”
Jones nodded his head. “That’s what it looks like to me. Of course, I could be wrong. It could be a jailhouse tat or the initial of his girlfriend, but my guess would be a Holotat.”
Payne considered the information, and a question sprang to mind. “You said it might be his girlfriend’s initial. Does that mean we’re sure it’s a guy?”
“That would be my guess. The thickness of the wrist suggests a masculine suspect, but to be on the safe side, I wouldn’t completely rule out a female. Of course, she’d have to be a Sasquatch-looking bitch.”
Payne laughed for the first time in a long time. He felt better knowing that Jones was helping him through this. “So, what now?”
“Why don’t you come down here? I have a few more tests I want to run on the video. But I want you to look at the tattoo to see if you notice anything that
Jones scrolled through a number of frames until he found the scene that fit his specific needs. The suspect’s arm was centered perfectly on the monitor, and the gap between the glove and the sleeve was at its widest. Then he zoomed in and sharpened the image.
A few seconds later, Jones smiled in triumph when an elaborate tattoo came into view. The three-inch design was in the shape of the letter P , and it started directly below the palm of the suspect’s hand. The straight edge of the symbol was in the form of an intricately detailed sword, the blade’s handle rising high above the letter’s curve. At the base of the drawing, small drops of blood fell from the weapon’s tip, leaving the impression that it had just been pulled from the flesh of a fallen victim. Finally, dangling from each side of the sword was a series of broken chains, which appeared to be severed near the left and right edge.
As Jones printed several copies of the image, his speakerphone buzzed, followed by the voice of his secretary. “Mr. Payne is on line one.”
With a touch of a button, Jones answered his call. “Jon, any news?”
“I was about to ask you the same thing. I went to the police like you suggested and filled out the appropriate paperwork. It turns out that I knew a few of the officers on duty. They assured me that Ariane would get top priority.”
“Even though she’s only been gone a few hours?”
“Her scream on the surveillance tape and Mr. McNally’s testimony have a lot to do with it. Normally, they’d wait a lot longer before they pursued a missing person, but as I said, the evidence suggests foul play.”
“Did they give you any advice?”
“I wouldn’t call it advice . I think a warning would be more accurate. These cops know me, so they automatically assumed that I would do something stupid to get in their way. Why would they think that?”
Jones smiled. The cops had pegged him perfectly. Payne was definitely the intrusive type. “Instead of giving you the obvious answer, let me tell you what I discovered.” He described the image in detail, then filled him in on a theory. “I think we’re looking for a Holotat.”
“A Holo-what?”
“Holotat.”
Payne scrunched his face. “What the hell is that?”
“Back in World War Two, German guards used to tattoo their prisoners with numbers on their wrists in order to keep track of them. After the war, the people who survived these camps had a constant reminder of the Holocaust, marks that eventually became a source of inspiration.”
“What does that have to do with Ariane?”
“About five years ago, members of Los Diablos, a Hispanic gang from East L.A., decided it would be cool if they tattooed their brothers in a similar fashion, marking them on their wrists. Before then, gangs used to get their tattoos on their arms, chests, or back, but suddenly this trend caught on. Holocaust tattoos, known as Holotats, started popping up everywhere.”
“And you think the P tattoo is a Holotat gang emblem?”
Jones nodded his head. “That’s what it looks like to me. Of course, I could be wrong. It could be a jailhouse tat or the initial of his girlfriend, but my guess would be a Holotat.”
Payne considered the information, and a question sprang to mind. “You said it might be his girlfriend’s initial. Does that mean we’re sure it’s a guy?”
“That would be my guess. The thickness of the wrist suggests a masculine suspect, but to be on the safe side, I wouldn’t completely rule out a female. Of course, she’d have to be a Sasquatch-looking bitch.”
Payne laughed for the first time in a long time. He felt better knowing that Jones was helping him through this. “So, what now?”
“Why don’t you come down here? I have a few more tests I want to run on the video. But I want you to look at the tattoo to see if you notice anything that
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