over his radio earlier today.
He parked and pulled out the flashlight, looked in the windows and thought: middle-aged mixed-race male, thirty-one years old, and a white female and a dog, a terrier. There was fur on one of the back seats and he stared at the plates again and thought about Babe Ruth back at the dealership flirting with his wife as she blew up the whole negotiation by telling him they won the lottery, and decided he had time to call it in. He read off the license plate to the dispatcher and told her he was off duty, but when she confirmed the plates it made his night.
Marquez heard that story from the CHP officer who waited for him at the Hilltop Mall lot. The officer had already walked the Sienna and hadn’t seen anything suspicious inside and asked Marquez before taking off if the car owner was a fugitive.
‘He’s not but he’s got critical information and I was concerned about kidnapping.’
‘What do you think now?’
‘That I need to get to whoever handles the store security cameras and that’s probably not until morning.’
As the officer left Marquez was scrolling his contacts for the phone number of a Richmond Police detective named Beckjoy. When he found it he left a message on his cell. A few minutes later Beckjoy called and, after listening said, ‘I’ve got a name and a phone number for you. Are you in my cell phone, Marquez?’
‘How would I know?’
‘Hold on a second, let me check. Yeah, you’re in here. I’ll text you his number. His name is Jacobs. I don’t know what his first name is but it doesn’t matter. Tell him you’re a fish cop and you talked to me and he can call me if he needs to. He’s the type who might come down there tonight and go over the videotape with you. We had a murder out there four years ago he helped us with and I was out that way last week and saw his car when I drove by. He still works there.’
Marquez called Jacobs who listened and then said he would drive over. Then, with Marquez in a chair alongside him, they worked backwards with the videotape until they hit tape where the van wasn’t there. The videotape was clear and distinct as Soliatano and the van drove into view. Emile Soliatano got out and then his wife and Jacobs said, ‘Pregnant’ and Marquez nodded and waited for the dog but there was no dog.
Soliatano locked the van and they started walking away and would have walked right out of view if Soliatano hadn’t stopped to answer his cell phone. His wife stood close by looking uncomfortable and unhappy.
Then a black SUV pulled up and a man got out on the passenger side and reached and opened the door to the back seat. Soliatano’s wife got in first and being shorter and pregnant it was awkward for her. As she slid over to make room for Emile the man who had opened the door for them glanced this way.
‘Freeze that,’ Marquez said, and Jacobs did and Marquez took a good look at the man’s face and said, ‘Okay, let’s keep going.’
The SUV pulled away.
‘Can you make me a copy of everything from when the van arrived to when they were picked up?’
‘Sure, I can send you a video file.’
‘Thanks.’
With enhancement they could probably get the license plate. The agency best equipped to do that was the FBI, but he knew he couldn’t go there because his best guess from everything he’d just watched was that the black Tahoe was an FBI vehicle and the pair were agents. Could be another agency, but it was most likely FBI. Soliatano had called for help and the Feds came to the rescue. Was that possible and, if it was, what in the hell was going on?
TWELVE
V oight put on his coat before going out to bring Marquez back. The coat was a Men’s Wearhouse number that was too big for him years ago but that fit him now, though nothing fit him this morning. He was uncomfortable with most of what they had planned. He knew he was getting ahead of himself and that was reinforced as he saw Marquez.
He shook Marquez’s hand,
He parked and pulled out the flashlight, looked in the windows and thought: middle-aged mixed-race male, thirty-one years old, and a white female and a dog, a terrier. There was fur on one of the back seats and he stared at the plates again and thought about Babe Ruth back at the dealership flirting with his wife as she blew up the whole negotiation by telling him they won the lottery, and decided he had time to call it in. He read off the license plate to the dispatcher and told her he was off duty, but when she confirmed the plates it made his night.
Marquez heard that story from the CHP officer who waited for him at the Hilltop Mall lot. The officer had already walked the Sienna and hadn’t seen anything suspicious inside and asked Marquez before taking off if the car owner was a fugitive.
‘He’s not but he’s got critical information and I was concerned about kidnapping.’
‘What do you think now?’
‘That I need to get to whoever handles the store security cameras and that’s probably not until morning.’
As the officer left Marquez was scrolling his contacts for the phone number of a Richmond Police detective named Beckjoy. When he found it he left a message on his cell. A few minutes later Beckjoy called and, after listening said, ‘I’ve got a name and a phone number for you. Are you in my cell phone, Marquez?’
‘How would I know?’
‘Hold on a second, let me check. Yeah, you’re in here. I’ll text you his number. His name is Jacobs. I don’t know what his first name is but it doesn’t matter. Tell him you’re a fish cop and you talked to me and he can call me if he needs to. He’s the type who might come down there tonight and go over the videotape with you. We had a murder out there four years ago he helped us with and I was out that way last week and saw his car when I drove by. He still works there.’
Marquez called Jacobs who listened and then said he would drive over. Then, with Marquez in a chair alongside him, they worked backwards with the videotape until they hit tape where the van wasn’t there. The videotape was clear and distinct as Soliatano and the van drove into view. Emile Soliatano got out and then his wife and Jacobs said, ‘Pregnant’ and Marquez nodded and waited for the dog but there was no dog.
Soliatano locked the van and they started walking away and would have walked right out of view if Soliatano hadn’t stopped to answer his cell phone. His wife stood close by looking uncomfortable and unhappy.
Then a black SUV pulled up and a man got out on the passenger side and reached and opened the door to the back seat. Soliatano’s wife got in first and being shorter and pregnant it was awkward for her. As she slid over to make room for Emile the man who had opened the door for them glanced this way.
‘Freeze that,’ Marquez said, and Jacobs did and Marquez took a good look at the man’s face and said, ‘Okay, let’s keep going.’
The SUV pulled away.
‘Can you make me a copy of everything from when the van arrived to when they were picked up?’
‘Sure, I can send you a video file.’
‘Thanks.’
With enhancement they could probably get the license plate. The agency best equipped to do that was the FBI, but he knew he couldn’t go there because his best guess from everything he’d just watched was that the black Tahoe was an FBI vehicle and the pair were agents. Could be another agency, but it was most likely FBI. Soliatano had called for help and the Feds came to the rescue. Was that possible and, if it was, what in the hell was going on?
TWELVE
V oight put on his coat before going out to bring Marquez back. The coat was a Men’s Wearhouse number that was too big for him years ago but that fit him now, though nothing fit him this morning. He was uncomfortable with most of what they had planned. He knew he was getting ahead of himself and that was reinforced as he saw Marquez.
He shook Marquez’s hand,
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