Foreign Influence_ A Thriller - Brad Thor [19]
“You’re welcome to see the file,” said the detective. “But we didn’t make a lot of progress. Her coworkers were blitzed. Even if we had located the cabbie, their testimony would have been worthless in court.”
“I’m sure you guys did the best you could. I just want to be able to tell the family we didn’t leave any stones unturned.”
“I hear you. When can you get down here?”
Vaughan looked at his watch. “How’s a half hour?”
“I probably won’t be here, but—” There were a couple of seconds of silence while the detective muffled the mouthpiece before coming back on the line. “Ask for Detective Ramirez. I’ll leave the file with her.”
Vaughan wrote down the name and was about to thank the man, but he didn’t get the chance. The detective had hung up.
The half-hour drive, thanks to Chicago traffic, took almost an hour. When he arrived at Area Five and found Detective Ramirez, she told him, “You’re late,” as she handed him the file and offered to let him join her at her desk.
He hung his suit coat over the back of the metal chair, removed his notebook and pen, and opened the file. The detective he had spoken with had been right. They hadn’t made a lot of progress.
There was an incident report, pictures from the scene, and witness statements. In addition to the statements taken right after the hit-and-run, the detectives had gone back to interview Alison Taylor’s friends when they were sober.
A piece of black plastic had been recovered from the scene and was believed to have come from one of those triangular, rooftop advertising setups popular on taxis throughout the city.
The neighborhood had been canvassed for further witnesses and phone calls had been made to all of the cab companies. None of it resulted in any additional leads.
Vaughan arrived at the end of the file. Flipping the last page over he said, “Where’s the blue light camera footage from the intersection?”
Ramirez didn’t even bother looking up from the report she was reading. Reaching into her desk drawer, she withdrew the DVD the detective had given her for Vaughan to look at.
“Is this a copy for me to keep?”
“No. That’s our copy. There’s a DVD player in the conference room,” she said pointing across the sea of desks to a door on the other side of the room.
Vaughan took the disc and walked over to the conference room. He was back fifteen minutes later.
“God, I hate our blue light cams.”
Ramirez was still working on her report and not very interested in Vaughan’s problems. “Let me guess. The footage was blurry, and the camera automatically panned right at the minute you needed to see something.”
“Exactly.”
“Those cameras aren’t for solving crimes,” she said, looking up. “They’re for deterring crimes. I’m surprised they record any footage at all.”
Vaughan shook his head. They had footage of the cab speeding through the intersection, but it had happened so fast it was all blurry. And just like she had said, the camera panned away at the crucial moment where the cab number could have been identified. “There has to be another camera that caught this accident.”
“Are you done with that?” she asked as Vaughan began tapping his thigh with the folder.
“Yeah, I’m done,” he said, handing it back to her. Standing up, he removed his jacket from the back of the chair and pulled out his business card. “In case anything comes up.”
She dropped it into the file and offered him a piece of advice. “Because you’re a lawyer probably getting paid by the hour, I’m not going to tell you you’re wasting your time, but there are a lot of cabs in the city. Don’t get too emotionally involved.”
Vaughan understood where she was coming from. Detachment was the key to staying sane in their line of work. He still shook his head. “Lawyer, cop, it doesn’t matter. I’m a human being, and so was the woman who got