Because it was nighttime, in an alley with no streetlights, the footage was dark. But I could make out the location clearly enough. It was the place where my daughter had been killed.
In the frame, Julia walked slowly through the rain, her pregnant belly heavy beneath her umbrella.
Two seconds later, a man appeared behind her. Black hoodie. Baseball cap pulled low. Mask covering his face.
He trailed her at a distance of about ten feet.
Between the mask and the cap, his features were impossible to make out, but his build was visible. Short. Thin.
And he walked with a limp.
A few seconds later, Julia turned into the alley.
The man paused at the entrance for two or three beats, glanced left and right, then followed her in.
The video ended there.
Finch froze the frame and zoomed in on the figure.
"This man. Do either of you recognize him?"
I stared at the screen for a long time.
Then shook my head. "No."
Silas's expression was grim.
"I've never seen him either."
Finch played the video again, this time slowing the playback speed. He walked us through it frame by frame.
"Based on the timeline and the conditions at the scene, the victim was killed shortly after entering the alley."