11
On one of Becca’s screens, a grainy surveillance video began playing. In the video, a burly white guy was holding up a bank while wearing a rubber Halloween monster mask. A tattoo peeked above the collar of his coat, but I couldn’t make it out.
“This was taken a week ago at a bank in Casper, Wyoming,” she said.
“Why are you showing me this?”
“You’ll see.”
She pulled up a second video over the first, this one from an exterior camera. “This was taken in the bank parking lot.” The same guy was pulling off his mask. The video was less grainy than the first, but I still couldn’t make out any details.
“He looks vaguely familiar, but I can’t place him. That tattoo on his neck looks like a cartoon. Can you boost the resolution?” I asked.
She enhanced it enough that my subconscious starte
