Page 206 of Bound By Fire
48
Ridge
I hold up my credentials and let the male behind the front desk get a good, long look at them.
He’s a shifter, mid-thirties, with grease under his nails. There’s a service bell on the counter and a row of pegs behind him with keys hanging from numbered hooks.
“Don’t you need a warrant?” he asks.
“Only if I plan on using the footage in court,” I tell him. “I need access to it to rule a suspect out. That’s all.”
He scratches the side of his jaw.
“Surely we need Mrs. Patel’s authorization. What did she do? I can’t see a female like her doing anything wrong. I don’t like it. I don’t feel comfortable giving you access to her vehicle.”
“She didn’t do anything wrong.” I lean an elbow on the counter and lower my voice. “Look, I’m going to be honest with you.”
I make a show of glancing toward the open door to the workshop and the small waiting area on the other side of theroom. There’s no one in either. Just the two of us and a radio playing something low and tinny from a back office.
“Avani Patel suspects her husband of cheating on her,” I say. “She believes he left the house really late on Wednesday night last week to meet with the person he’s been having an affair with.”
His brows lift. “And he used her car to do it?”
I nod. “It looks that way. He parked it badly when he got home, and that’s when Avani scraped it on her way out to work on Thursday morning.”
“These humans. I swear.” He huffs and shakes his head. “I don’t understand why they mate in the first place. They end up screwing around and getting divorced. They don’t know the first damned thing about forever.”
“Not all humans.” The thought comes before I can stop it. Robyn’s face is right there at the front of my mind. “Some humans mate for life.”
He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right.” He frowns. “Why doesn’t she check the footage herself if she suspects him?”
“Well, she hired me. I think she’s worried about what she will see. Her husband is also extremely controlling, so it’s safer if I do it here. She doesn’t want him finding out she’s been digging.”
“Of course not. He sounds like a real asshole.” He picks a numbered key off one of the hooks. “Yeah, sure. Take a look. The vehicle is in the shop. We were about to start on it, but it can wait ten minutes.” He points toward the area with his thumb. “Have at it.” He hands me the key.
“Thanks. I appreciate it.”
The Mercedes is up on a low bay. The interior light comes on when I unlock the car. I get in and push the button to start the vehicle.
I take out the USB cable and attach my phone to the dashcam. Then I scroll through the list of clips. They’re eachstamped with a time and a length, and there are dozens of them. I go to the one I want and tap play.
The street is quiet as the Mercedes glides through it. A streetlight flicks past, then another. The car indicates and turns.
It’s Robyn’s street.
I have this footage from behind as well.
The Mercedes slows. The driver eases off, and the car coasts the last hundred feet. He parks just short of her apartment building, where the lamps are wider apart.
It’s a smart spot to pick. Out of the camera’s range from the building entrance. Tucked just shy of the corner.
I’m hoping that this dashcam will keep recording with the engine off. Not all of them do. This is an upmarket vehicle, but Draig Island is generally safe, so who knows.
I wait.
The image holds steady. The street is empty. Nothing seems to happen, so I wait some more.
The clip keeps rolling, but nothing is happening.
