Mercy (The Night Man Chronicles Book 3) by Brett Battles (most inspirational books of all time TXT) 📗

a cup. After taking a couple of sips, I head back out, feeling marginally more awake.

“Sit.” She pats the empty chair, which she’s pulled around the card table so that it’s beside hers.

As soon as I plop down, Jar plays a video on her computer screen.

It’s a shot from our camera in the kitchen of the Prices’ house. Right after it starts running, Chuckie enters and walks to the outside door, carrying his briefcase. When he exits, the shot switches to the camera in the garage. Apparently, Jar has had time to make a movie for me. Chuckie walks into the garage, gets into his twister orange Mustang, and leaves. The time stamp at the top puts his departure at 6:03 a.m.

The shot switches again, to footage from one of the cameras at the dealership. This one is in the service garage. It picks up most of the service bays and the roll-up door, which is open. Two men in coveralls are doing something at a counter near the door. No one else is present.

Within seconds, both men look toward the big doorway, and a few beats after this, Chuckie rolls in behind the wheel of his Mustang. Time stamp is 6:09 a.m.

Both men give him a wave as he drives by. Chuckie pulls into one of the empty service bays, exits the vehicle, and walks over to the two men. They share a laugh, then Chuckie walks through one of the doorways leading into the rest of the building.

Camera switch. Chuckie walking through a hallway.

“Does popcorn come with this film?” I ask.

“No, it does not,” Jar says. “Watch.”

Another switch, this time to a camera inside Chuckie’s office, a moment before he enters. We watch him set his briefcase on the desk and drop his keys beside it.

The next shot is from the showroom camera that covers the area between the glassed-in offices and the cubicles. Chuckie enters the frame, pauses for a moment and looks around, obviously checking for anyone else.

The shot changes again to the camera watching over the main part of the showroom. It’s on the window near the banner (WHERE YOU’LL ALWAYS GET THE BEST PRICE), and is focused toward the cubicles and offices in the back. The shot also takes in the public entrance, where, as of the recording of this clip, the donation card is still sitting on the floor where we left it.

I know the moment Chuckie spots the card. It comes right after he circles the cubicles, when a smile springs onto his face. After he picks up the card, he can’t help but look around again.

I think he’s going to take a look at it right there, but he waits until he’s behind the closed door of his office.

The moment Chuckie touches the card right below the two lines beside the 5-6 PM box, any question as to whether the marks are deliberate or not disappears. He isn’t quite so obvious with the mark by the checkbox for Tuesday or the one between the s and the p, but I’m sure he’s seen them.

Not only is he smiling now, he looks relieved, too. He folds the card and puts it into the inside pocket of his leisure jacket, then leaves his office and returns to the service department. The younger of the two men who were there at Chuckie’s arrival has moved over to a bay and is working on a car. The other man is sitting on a stool behind the counter.

Chuckie walks up to the other side of the counter and starts talking to the man about the day’s service appointment. Suddenly, the video speeds up.

“They say nothing important,” Jar tells me.

The shot returns to normal speed a moment before Chuckie steps away from the counter and walks out the big doorway into the alley and vanishes from sight. Which is a problem. We didn’t anticipate needing cameras out back so we didn’t put any there.

The movie does not end, however. After a brief fade to black, a new shot cuts on. It’s actually from the same camera as the last, but time has jumped forward twenty minutes to 6:37 a.m. The man behind the counter is now working at one of the bays.

Chuckie enters the garage from outside, carrying a large pink box, the kind that often contains pastries. He yells, “First come, first served!”

The two mechanics stop what they’re doing and come over. Chuckie opens the box, revealing a variety of donuts. At least a couple dozen. Balancing the box on one arm, he pulls out a wad of napkins from his pocket and has each man take one before they choose their treat.

He then carries the box inside the main part of the building, and leaves it in the area where people wait for their cars to be repaired or their new cars to be ready for them to drive away. He chooses three donuts himself, makes a cup of coffee, and goes into his office.

This is where the video ends. Jar clicks a few keys and brings up a live feed from Chuckie’s office. He’s at his desk, working on his computer, the donuts no longer in sight.

“Unless he went somewhere while I was showing you this, he has not left,” Jar says.

“Has he done anything with the card?”

“Only if it happened when we weren’t watching him.”

“Has he taken it out of his pocket at least?”

“No.”

The leisure jacket is hanging on a hook on the back of the office door. If the card is important, and it sure seems so from his reaction to it earlier, it feels odd that he wouldn’t keep it closer. Sure, he’s the only one in the office, but the card is clear across the room, and if he gets up for some reason and leaves without putting his jacket back on, he’d be leaving the card behind. He probably has the habit of never going anywhere without his jacket. Otherwise, I can’t see how the situation would feel comfortable.

Unless…

“How