He pulled it up, giving them a view all around Hamill’s house. The figure in the black hoodie didn’t go into the garage which told Spenser they’d slipped in through the back door of the house. Jacob stopped the video.
“No, let it run,” she said. “I want to see how long they were in there.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He started the video again, and they continued watching. The silence in the conference room was thick and seemed to grow tenser by the moment. A bead of sweat rolled down between her shoulder blades and her heart was pounding in her ears. Spenser had no idea why she was so tight. It wasn’t like she was anticipating a jump scare in a horror flick or something. For whatever reason, though, she was taut, and her nerves were frayed.
Ten minutes after the figure had slipped into the house through the back door, they stepped into the frame again. Spenser held her breath as the figure in black slipped out through the gate and down the side of the house again, stepping out of the frame and vanishing from sight once more. Nobody said a word for a long moment. The tension, though, lingered.
“Okay. I guess our theory is confirmed,” Amanda said, finally popping the bubble of silence they’d been enveloped in.
Spenser gave herself a little shake and pulled herself back to the moment. A thousand questions fired through her mind simultaneously. It was suddenly so loud in her head that she was having a hard time thinking straight. Spenser closed her eyes and clenched her jaw, willing her mind into silence. It took a moment, but it eventually quieted down.
“Yeah. Ten minutes inside the house,” Spenser said. “I’d say that’s long enough to get in and lace the bottle.”
“Any thoughts on who that might be?” Jacob asked.
“Not a clue,” Spenser said. “But thanks to Hamill’s creepy little home movie collection, we’ve got quite a few people it could be.”
“True enough,” Amanda said. “So, how do we divide this up?”
“Did Arbery dust for prints on that gate?” Spenser asked.
Amanda turned to her computer and quickly started going through the reports Arbery had emailed to her. Spenser felt like they were right on the cusp of something big. It seemed like the picture was starting to resolve itself but the window they were looking through remained opaque and every second that ticked by felt like an eternity.
“No. They only dusted inside the house,” Amanda said. “But it looked like the person in black was wearing gloves, so I wouldn’t expect to find prints there, anyway.”
“It also looked like the person in black was familiar with the layout of the house, including where the cameras were. The hoodie was possibly to hide their face because they knew they were being filmed,” Spenser offered. “I think our mystery person’s prints are going to be on that gate.”
“Maybe. But so might a lot of others.”
“It’s possible,” Spenser agreed. “But I still want them, so have Arbery get back out there and dust the gate as well as the handle on the outside of the back door.”
“Copy that.”
“Next, we’re going to look at our suspect pool and filter out anybody five-eight and over,” Spenser said. “Our mystery person was close to your height, so we can start there.”
“Then that eliminates Bo Graham as well as Carl and Dina Edelstein right off the bat,” Jacob said. “They’re all taller than that.”
“So be it,” Spenser said. “Who’s next on the list?”
“Right now, all we have is Gina Overshaw, Betsy McManus, and Kelly Harper,” Amanda said. “Those are the only three I recognize from Hamill’s homemade porns.”
“And according to their driver’s licenses, they’re all under five-eight,” Jacob said.
“Great. We’ll start with them,” Spenser said. “Jacob, start getting IDs on the rest of the women in those videos. Get them as quick as you can.”
“On it, boss.”
Spenser turned to Amanda, charged up and energized. It seemed like things were finally starting to fall into place. The picture remained opaque but for the first time since Seth Hamill dropped dead on stage at the Strawberry Festival, she felt like they were starting to get somewhere.
“Okay,” Spenser said. “Let’s get to work.”
“Mrs. Harper?”
Five-six with hair the color of a faded penny and startlingly blue eyes, thirty-year-old Kelly Harper was trim and fit with generous curves. She wore a form-fitting workout suit that only accentuated the swell of her chest and hips. She was a beautiful woman. She was also the wife of a well-known and well-respected architect who designed homes and office buildings for some of the most famous people in the country.
Harper stood in the doorway of her home, a three-story Mediterranean-style house with thoroughly modern flourishes that had obviously been designed by her husband. It wasn’t to Spenser’s taste, but she couldn’t deny it was a beautiful home. The woman looked at Spenser with tension in her shoulders and uncertainty on her face.
“Umm… yes? What can I do for you, Sheriff?”
“Is your husband home, Mrs. Harper?”
“No. He’s away on business.”
“Good. May I come in?” Spenser asked. “We need to talk.”
“May I ask what this is about?”
“Seth Hamill.”
At the mention of his name, Harper’s eyes grew wide, and that look of uncertainty morphed into outright fear. Harper leaned out and looked up one side of the street and then down the other, as if afraid her neighbors might see her letting Spenser into her home, obviously not realizing she couldn’t do much about the big Bronco with the word “Sheriff” on the doors parked out front. But she quickly ushered Spenser in anyway, looking relieved to have closed the door and kept the prying eyes out.
“Follow me, Sheriff. Please.”
