Jake
Nash was waiting when we pulled into the shop.
He didn’t wave.
Didn’t make some smart-ass comment about me taking my time.
That told me enough.
“Got the footage,” he said as soon as Emma climbed out. “You both need to see it.”
We followed him inside.
Raven was behind the counter, arms crossed, expression grim. Marcus stood near the office with a laptop open.
This wasn’t good.
Nash turned the screen toward us.
“Property manager sent this.”
Security footage showed a dark sedan pulling up outside Emma’s old building at 9:17 that morning.
A man climbed out.
Emma leaned closer.
“That’s not the guy who came here.”
“You sure?” I asked.
“Positive.”
The man walked into the building.
Nash skipped the footage forward.
“He stayed six minutes. Manager says he showed him a pictur
