Talia scooted closer to him so she, too, could read the report, which described in detail the contents of the wooden crate as the coroner had first examined it where it had been unearthed. There was no mention of a button. Fighting disappointment, Drex shuffled through the other documents until he found the autopsy report.
He scanned it so rapidly, it was Talia who saw the notation first and pointed it out to him. Under his breath, he exclaimed with a bit of anticlimactic wonder, “Damn. It’s actually there.”
“Documenting that you were right,” she whispered.
Smiling at her, he mentally did a fist pump, but then realized what he was celebrating. “Hell of a thing to be glad about, though.”
Beneath the table, she placed her hand on his thigh.
Locke made a sound of impatience. “I hate to interrupt your private moment, but can we please be filled in?”
“Have either of you read this?” Without waiting for them to answer, Drex turned the report around and stabbed the notation. “Missing button.”
Locke immediately made the connection. He blinked across at Drex. “Both Conner and Barker had a button missing from their clothing.”
“That’s his souvenir,” Drex said. “That’s the connecting link I haven’t had before now.”
Menundez beamed.
Locke was less elated. “It supports your hypothesis of a serial killer, but it doesn’t prove that he’s Jasper Ford.”
“I realize that, which dims my jubilation a bit,” Drex admitted. “Without concrete proof, this similarity could still be dismissed
as a coincidence. Maybe the security video will help.”
He took a bite of the sandwich Talia had unwrapped and passed to him. Noticing the detectives’ sudden and obvious dejection, he stopped chewing, swallowed, and said, “What?”
“The video doesn’t help us, but I’ll show it to you anyway.” Locke opened the laptop and turned it around so Drex and Talia could see the freeze-framed shot. “This is the guy we were curious about.”
The form Locke pointed out to them was draped in a plastic souvenir-shop rain poncho and looked like a ghostly blob. Only a portion of his face was visible. Drex said, “I don’t even recognize Gif in this shot.”
“Here’s Gif. We had to zoom to find him.”
The individual in question was walking toward Gif.
“His body type is wrong,” Talia said. “He’s too tall and thin. I don’t believe it’s Jasper.”
“It isn’t,” Locke said glumly. “The witness we talked to last night picked him out of this freeze-frame early this morning. He recognized the poncho. Turns out that the poncho man was picked up on several cameras, not just two. One on a nearby parking lot showed him with his wife and three kids climbing into an SUV. Car tag was clear as a bell. Menundez followed up.”
The younger detective picked up from there. “We got a home address from his car registration. A couple of uniforms were dispatched to screen him. He admitted to being in that mob. He’d gotten separated from his family as they disembarked the tour boat. He was anxious to catch up with them. Except for those few minutes when they were separated, he was with his family all evening on an outing planned weeks ago.”
Drex pushed his half-eaten sandwich aside. “So he really was just a man in a hurry.”
“Looks like,” Locke said. “Which leaves us with pretty much nothing.”
“The search of our house yesterday must have yielded Jasper’s fingerprints,” Talia said.
“But we don’t have those of Daniel Knolls or any of his previous personas,” Drex said. “There’s nothing to match.” After a short silence, he asked if Rudkowski had been told about their went-nowhere lead on the poncho man.
Locke nodded with unconcealed distaste.
“His reaction?” Drex asked.
Menundez was at the ready to tell him. “He called you delusional and paranoid, and said that you’d made Jasper Ford a suspect only so you could get a shot at his wife.” The young detective glanced in Talia’s general direction. “Sorry.”
“No apology necessary,” she said. “I couldn’t care less about that horrid man’s opinion.”
Drex didn’t comment except to murmur an epithet directed at Rudkowski.