Page 14 of Jacqueline's Quest

“Partials?” Jaqueline tried to keep her emotions in check. All she needed was a partial and she’d be able to tell if her brother was alive or buried in one of those unmarked graves.

“Sometimes we get lucky. Most times it shot of their head, hands or arms. Wecanidentify perps from tattoo’s if they have them or other distinguishing marks, but honestly, it’s a crapshoot.”

Jaqueline gulped. “I’d like to see those images with people on it.”

“Jaq—”

“I need to know, Murray,” she whispered.

"Of all the people working on this case, I understand your need better than anyone else. It's why I can say this to you without issue. The chances of us receiving a photo of him or you seeing him, outside are almost nil."

Murray hit a couple of buttons on his keyboard, and even with his warning, Jaqueline saw new images replacing what he was working on.

“You’ve gone through all of these?” she asked after she stood up, to get a closer look.

“Not yet. Hank sent the file over this morning.”

"Hannah would be easier to pick out." She scanned the first half dozen images on the screen. Checking the updates would have been her priority. Things change. People get restless. For all they knew, Raul gave them yard time or something. Though the chances were slim, she'd take it over not having anything.

“Yeah, she would be,” he said before handing her a little black clicker. “Click on it, to load the next six.”

Jaqueline wasn’t surprised when he went back to the smaller monitor attached to the heavy-duty laptop, he’d brought with him. She sat there for a minute mesmerized by his efficiency and speed. Of course, as he said, he had experience doing a job like this. She on the other hadn't. She scrolled through the images for the last half hour when she finally saw it. A wheelchair.

“Murray, look!” Jaqueline pointed to the image on the screen.

Murray glanced up, his fingers still pounding away at the keys. In a flash, the photo disappeared, and the screen went black. "No. What did you do?"

"Relax." The image downloaded slowly, a bit clearer and more enhanced. "Now, what did you see?" He stood beside her. The warmth of his big body provided a sense of security she hadn't had in a long time. If she was honest with herself, the only time she felt protected was when she'd been a child. As an adult, she knew the risks of joining the all-women special forces unit, but in hindsight, she'd been searching for the security she was missing.

“That!” She pointed to the corner of the picture where the glint of metal shown and the curved arch of a shadow. It had to be a wheelchair. “Can you zoom in?”

He snorted. “Of course.” He removed the clicker from the tight grip of her fingers and then went back to his computer. After a few keystrokes, the images moved, becoming grainer.

She made a sound of frustration when the picture blurred out. “Now you can’t see anything.”

“Give it a second, the computer is working on it right now,” he said.

The screen went black again, and seconds later the image returned, this time zoomed in and narrowed to the section she’d been staring at. “Is that what I think it is?” She’d rather have him figure it out than tell him.

“It’s a wheelchair,” he confirmed.

“With a girl in it.” With the new image, you could see the length of the hair, and make out a hint of breasts under the dark shirt on the black and white image. “It’s Hannah.”

Murray sighed as he shifted out of his chair. “Being what the Emporium is, it could be anyone.”

Jaqueline tsked him. “If we can see Hannah, maybe…”

“We don’t know if it is my sister, Jaq. There could be a dozen girls in wheelchairs, in that shit hole.”

True, but one had to have hope.

Hope was what got her through each day since her brother disappeared even when the walls felt like they were closing in. She didn’t know how Murray could so easily dismiss the obvious. “Are there other pictures like this one?” She’d been determined to give him something he could latch onto. Instead, he ignored her. She cut her gaze in his direction and saw the furry within his features. He said the right words about his sister, but could they only be words?

“Could be.” He pulled his chair up and took a seat. “Give me a second.”

Another six pictures flashed up on the screen, they were a continuation of the last one. All six showed basically the same thing, only the person beside the wheelchair was moving closer to the building.

“They let her out,” she muttered. “Doesn’t make sense. They don’t let anyone out.”

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