Page 32 of One Wrong Move
“Yeah.” His instinct for summing people up was a fine-tuned gift.
“So this guy gave me a weird vibe.”
“Do you remember about how long ago this was?” he asked, leaning against the chair back.
“Not long after Tad redid the statue room,” she said, her stiff shoulders easing a little.
He cocked his head. “The room of artifacts that were stolen?”
She nodded.
Got ’em. At least a little more than they had a second ago. “That just happened a few months ago?” He’d updated the security system after the redo.
“Yeah. Midsummer. I remember because the AC went out for a few days, and it was sweltering.”
So they’d cased the place months ago. “What did this guy look like?” He prayed she remembered. After letting them know about Alex’s apartment, Joel said he’d watched the gala footage along with what heist footage they had before the thieves nixed the video. They were dealing with two men in all-black outfits, zero feature details.
“That’s the thing. I didn’t really see him.”
His shoulders tightened, his hope of a description dwindling. “I don’t understand.”
“He had sunglasses on ... or those lenses that change with the light.”
“Transition lenses.”
“Right. I assumed that’s what they were—otherwise why would someone keep sunglasses on in a building.”
Unless he was trying to hide his eyes. “What about the rest of him? His hair? Build?”
“He wore a baseball hat. His hair was cut short, so I didn’t really see much of that either. If I had to guess, just based on the small amount visible in the back, I’d say brown.”
“What kind of baseball hat was it?” Sometimes it was the littlest of details that broke a case wide open.
She shrugged her right shoulder. “Just your average sports team one.”
“You don’t happen to remember which sports team?” he asked, praying she did. At least it would be something tangible.
“Yeah. Houston Astros,” she said, crossing her legs and swinging her foot. “My loathsome ex of a boyfriend loved them.”
“That is super helpful,” Christian said.
The hint of a smile curled on her lips. “It is?”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “What about his height? His build?”
“He wasn’t as tall as you.” She chuckled. It was awkward but endearing. She was a good kid. A little messed up, but a good kid. He prayed she found her way. Maybe he’d get the chance to talk with her another day about unhappy homes and Jesus.
“So about ...?” Christian stood and held out his hand, moving it down a few inches from his head.
“Uh-uh.” She shook her head, her dark hair with one pink stripe grazing her shoulders.
He lowered his hands a couple more inches.
“Yes. About there,” she said.
“Great. So about six feet.” Exactly how Joel had described one of the thieves from the heist footage.
“What about weight ... was he skinny, heavy, muscular?”
