Mac, Lich, Riles, and Rockford spent a few hours putting together a list of vehicles from the neighborhood and then went to forensics to watch the video.
Riles was pumped. If they were right about the Ford Econoline and that Hampden was the only way back to the vacant lot, there was a chance they would see the van. Could they get anything else of use off the video? Well, that would be another story.
Mac had planned to spend the night with Sally. When he called, she understood and was excited. “Call me if you guys find anything,” she said. She had been assigned as legal counsel to the detail. Of course, she managed to torture Mac a bit, mentioning her disappointment that he wouldn’t see what she’d bought at Victoria’s Secret over the lunch hour. “That’s playing dirty,” he said.
Linda Morgan stayed to help them, and popped the disk for the previous night into the computer and projected it onto a larger screen.
Rockford, in his best boxing announcer voice, said, “Let the tedium begin.”
And begin it did. Black and white video of a surveillance camera pointing out to a street corner-can’t get much better than that. They started the video at 10:00 p.m. store time, 8:00 p.m. their time, and let it run real time.
The GasUp station was plenty busy for the first couple of hours, with vehicles coming and going. Many turned on Hampden to get to the GasUp and many then left the station on the Hampden street exit, turning right and then going either left or right on University from the corner. There were a few dark-colored vans that turned into the GasUp station. None of them looked promising. None of them were Ford Econolines. They took down license numbers anyway. When the vans would leave the station, if they turned left on University they could see the back of the van and, if the lights for the plate box on the back were on, they could just barely see the plate, although not the license number.
“A little enhancement on that and you might make it out,” Riley mentioned.
“Possibly,” Morgan replied. “It’ll be tough.”
About midnight on the video, 10:00 p.m. their time, the action started slowing down. They started slowing down as well. Lich was out, sitting in a plastic chair, his head tilted back and snoring. Rock was doing the head bobs of impending sleep. Mac was fine, being a night owl most of the time. Riles was with it as well, desperate for something to break. Yet a fifth pot of coffee was brewing in the corner.
Two hours later, 2:00 a.m. GasUp station time, Lich got up and said he was going home. He would see them in the morning. Rockford woke up as well. He rubbed his eyes and yawned. He stared at his watch.
“Rock, if you want to go, go,” Riles said. “We’ll let you know if we see anything.”
Rock nodded, staggered up out of his chair, put on his coat and left without saying a word.
Thereafter, the action on the video was almost nonexistent. There was an occasional car that turned onto Hampden and went by the GasUp station. At 2:47 a.m. on the video, 12:47 a.m. their time, a minivan turned onto Hampden and went by the camera. Mac checked their notes. “Didn’t we have someone who said they got home between 2:45 and 3:00?”
“Yeah, what was her name? Something funky. Oh, yeah, Lemonjello Hardy.”
“Lemonjello?” Mac replied quizzically.
“Yeah, spelled just like lemon Jell-O, but run together,” Riles replied with a tired smile.
“Unbelievable.”
“Nope. What’s unbelievable is that she has a sister that lives with her, guess what her name is?”
“What?”
“Orangejello.”
“No way,” Linda replied. Mac just shook his head. First Dick Lick and now the jellos. What next? Someone names their daughter ESPN?
At 3:25 a.m. GasUp Station time, another vehicle looking like a van went by. “Anyone coming home around this time?” Mac asked.
Riles yawned and consulted his notes. “Yeah,” he took a sip of coffee and flipped a page in his notes. “Mike Moriarity, dropped off by Kevin McReynolds, who drives a Ford pickup with a topper.”
Morgan replayed the DVD and got close to the screen to look at the truck as it went by. It looked like that’s who it was. Playing the DVD another minute or two confirmed it as the truck came back out and turned left onto University.
Virtually nothing passed after that. At 2:50 a.m. Riles got up and hit the head. Mac, who had started to nod off a little, sat up and rubbed his eyes. He put his coffee up to his lips when he saw it go by. “Linda, run that back.”
Morgan yawned first, and then did as ordered. Mac got up and stood in front of the big screen. The van turned left onto Hampden from University. The headlights were square. The headlights on an Econoline were square. This van had a snout nose on it. An Econoline has a snout-nosed front. He couldn’t see the plate at all. The left side of the front bumper looked to be caved in. The time in the lower left hand corner was 4:33 a.m.
Riles came back into the room, “What?”
“Anybody dropped off around 4:30 a.m.?”
Riles flipped through his notes, then shook his head. “Nope.”
Mac pointed to Morgan. “Again.”
Morgan replayed the video. Riles stood next to Mac and watched the van go by. “That’s a fucking Econoline!”
“You sure?” Mac asked.
“Oh, yeah. I’ve studied those damned vans for weeks. That’s an Econoline.”
They let the DVD run, checking their watches. It seemed like an eternity. The van came back out at 4:42 a.m., nine minutes later. It came into the screen and turned left onto University Avenue. They could see the back and the license plate holder was partially lit, but they couldn’t make out the plate. Morgan took it back and ran it again. But it was too far away, and they couldn’t make it out other than the tiny white speck of a box on the dark big screen. She rewound it a third time, and they practically put their faces up to the screen. No dice.
Riley went nuts, pacing around the room, waving his arms, “Fuck, fuck, fuck! That’s our asshole, guys. That’s our asshole.” He kept pacing and waving. “We gotta find someone or something. See if we can enhance that.”
Morgan shook her head, “That’s going to require a lot of work and equipment we don’t have.”
“Who does?” Riles asked.
“The BCA,” Morgan replied. “Jupiter Jones is the man we need.”
“Jupiter,” Mac added, nodding and smiling. “He’s definitely what we need.”
Jupiter Jones was a longtime friend of Mac. He had met Jupiter in a computer science class at the University of Minnesota. While Mac went on to major in business and criminal justice, Jupe kept up on the computer studies. He was a computer genius.
Jupiter and a math wizard friend of his had started a little computer software business after college. Jupiter developed an intelligence program that helped businesses determine what their customers bought, when they bought it and how much they would spend. His math wizard friend was able to add mathematical equations to the program. Within five years of his graduation, Jupe’s little company had grown to one hundred-fifty employees. However, running the business required long hours and business acumen he didn’t have or really care to develop. He sold the company for sixty million dollars, which he and his partner split. After taking care of many of their employees with severance packages, they each walked away with twenty million. Jupe didn’t need to work.
What Jupiter had done since he sold his business was explore what could be done with computers and video. He had started another small business that developed programs to convert video into numerous uses, but it didn’t eat up a lot of his time. So, to keep busy, he also worked freelance for the Minnesota Bureau of Criminal Apprehension, helping when computer and video skills were needed. Now was such a case.
Mac looked at his watch, 3:40 a.m. “Jupiter’s going to love this,” he said as he dialed him up. Jupiter answered on the third ring.
“Whoever this is,” a sleep-slurred voice said, “it better be good.”
“Still wearing Tough Skins?”
Silence on the other end for a moment. “Mac?”
“Jupe, I need a big favor. I need it right now, and I think you can help me.”
“With what?”
“Identifying a serial killer.”
The Minnesota Bureau of Criminal Apprehension (BCA) was located on Maryland Avenue, just north of downtown St. Paul. Jupiter, who lived half an hour away, arrived to find Mac and Riles waiting in the lobby with coffee and a bag of donuts. A smallish man with messy, blondish hair and round glasses, he looked like the computer geek he was.
“This’ll challenge all of your skills, Jupe,” Mac said.
“Hmpf,” Jupe snorted. “We’ll see about that,” he replied cockily as he unlocked the door into a computer and video lab. Jupe slung a bag off of his shoulder.
“What’s in there?” Riles asked, pointing at the bag.
“Some of my own equipment. From what you said on the phone, we might need to independently upgrade the state’s equipment to flesh this out.” He gave a knowing wink.
Mac handed Jupiter the DVD, and Jupiter put it into his computer drive. He pulled the image up and watched the key section a few times. He kept playing it back and forth.
“Well. It’s awfully grainy, but I might be able to clean it up some.”
“How quickly, Jupe?”
“It’ll take some time.”
“How much?” Mac pressed.
“Not sure, buddy. Gimme me six, maybe eight hours, and we’ll have a better idea. It’s very grainy, and it is from a long, long, long way away. As I look at it, you can only really make out the right side of the plate.”
They looked at the video. Jupiter pointed, “See, there’s a little shading there. I don’t think you’ll get the left side of the plate. But I might be able to get something off the right side.”
“Thanks, Jupe,” Mac said yawning.
“You boys are free to sack out here,” Jupe pointed to some cots stacked in a corner.
“Thanks, man, I owe ya.”
“You kidding, Mac? I live for this shit.”
Jupiter sat down and started to go to work. Mac and Riles looked at one another and their watches-5:25 a.m. They lifted down a couple cots from the corner.
“The state, always providing plush accommodations,” Riles muttered.
Mac woke up startled, momentarily trying to get his bearings. “Oh, yeah, I’m at the BCA,” he groaned, yawning and scratching his head. He looked at his watch 12:05 p.m. Holy cow, he’d slept awhile. He woke up to find the computer screen showing a program running but no Jupiter. Pat was still sleeping, and Mac let him keep going. Sleep had been hard to come by for Riles as of late.
Just then Jupe came back in, carrying a tray of coffee and some sandwiches. Mac grabbed one of each, and Jupe quietly explained how he had been breaking down the frame that had the best view of the van’s plate. He had then been working the area of the picture where they could see the license plate. He was refining the picture, trying to get the most out of the pixels. The last picture showed the plate, and Jupe had been right. They would only be able to see the right side of the plate, which was usually numbers. Right now it was still very blurry, three black, squarish blobs on the screen.
“The program I’m running it through now should clean it up as good as I can do anyway,” which was probably as good as anyone could do. “Should take another twenty minutes or so.”
Mac took a bite of his sandwich and looked the picture over. Riley started to come alive, rolling off the cot, smelling the coffee and sandwiches. “Anything?” he asked anxiously.
“Not yet,” Mac replied.
“We’ll know soon,” Jupe added.
They talked for twenty minutes. Jupe was interested in the Daniels case, and Mac gave him the run down. Jupe asked about women, and Mac gave him the scoop on Sally.
“She sounds like a nice gal,” Jupe said.
“Yeah, she is.”
They talked a little longer about nothing in particular. Finally Jupe said, “Let’s see what we have.” Jupiter maneuvered the mouse and opened a program, and there it was.
It was still a little fuzzy, but it wasn’t numbers. They had letters, and they were clear enough to Mac, “F-M-G.”
“That’s odd” Riles said, “These are reversed.”
Mac looked a little closer. He was right; the numbers should be on the left side, “Looks like maybe we can make out a number there.”
“What is it?” Jupe said, squinting at the picture.
“It’s a five or a six I think,” Riles said, also squinting.
Mac took a closer look at the upper right-hand corner of the picture. Along the top of the license plate, above the letters, was what looked like a grainy circle with a house or, wait, the angling of the roof? Mac pointed to it, “Riles, what you make of this?”
Riles looked, moving his head closer and squinting at the screen, “Those ain’t pine trees.”
“Yeah, looks like a barn and a farm scene,” Mac replied, and added, “and the letters are on the right side.”
“What in the hell are you guys talking about?” Jupe asked.
Riles and Mac smiled at each other and then looked at Jupe, uttering in unison, “Wisconsin.”