(Start with Part One)
Thank God, she had been.
“I took the liberty of going through the footage,” she announced as I came in. She waved me over and spread out some glossy photographs on her desk. “We’ve got shots of three different red bikes at that light in the last two weeks. Two of them multiple times.”
“Plates?” I asked, afraid the answer would be no.
She beamed at me. “Tech came through for once, we got plates on all three. We’re running ’em down now.”
“Wow. You’re beautiful, Lacey.”
She nodded. “And smart.” I laughed. “What’d you dig up at the Walker’s?”
I shook my head. “Mostly nothing. Kid saw a red bike, all right, even gave me a drawing – ” I showed her the sketch – “but that’s it. Didn’t see the driver’s face, didn’t hear their voice, nothing.”
“That’s too bad. I’ll let you know as soon as we have names and addresses for those plates, then.”
“You can thank me by getting me some coffee. Venti soy latte, with an extra shot.” She nodded toward the door.
“Yes, ma’am,” I replied, heading right back out. Small price to pay for a break in the case.