Page 44 of Her Final Hours
He turned around. His eyes met hers as she held up the phone, the screen displaying a company logo. “The camera didn’t capture the license plate,” she continued, slightly breathless. “But we managed to snag the color and logo. It appears to be a plumber’s van. Look!” She pointed to the logo on the side of the vehicle displayed on her phone. It had the wordsAll Week – Plumbing, Heating. Air Conditioning and Drain Cleaning. Twenty-four hours – 7 days a week. “The company is located in Elizabethtown.”
A flicker of anticipation sparkled in Noah’s eyes as he studied the blurry logo that matched one found online. It was a potential breakthrough, a tangible lead to pursue, but hecouldn’t help but wonder why they would be that sloppy. Then again, some of the most intelligent criminals he’d taken down didn’t think things out.
“You sure that’s the one from the surveillance video here at the hospital?”
“Look at the time stamp. It’s the only van that passes by that fits our timeline.”
“All right,” he said. They headed out, their steps purposeful and their minds focused on the task. Outside, the heavy snow seemed to match the intensity of their mission, creating an atmosphere of urgency.
“I figure they parked up on the hill off Evans Street so that if any patrol officer passed by, it wouldn’t look suspicious. They would assume he was attending an emergency call. And the tree line would hide the logo,” Callie said as he started the engine, the warmth of the Bronco enveloping them as the heater came on.
Tires crunched against the snow-covered road; his mind focused on the upcoming interrogation, the evidence that needed to be collected, and the delicate balance between determination and caution. The winter landscape blurred past them, but their resolve remained unyielding.
“Don’t get your hopes up yet; there’s still a chance it might not be it,” he said, having seen video canvassing gone sideways through misidentification and vehicles being in the wrong place at the wrong time. He just hoped that wasn’t the case this time.
16
Wednesday, March 21, 10:40 a.m.
The snow was relentless, casting a serene white blanket over the landscape. As they made their way through the wintry weather, Noah hoped, no prayed, that this would be the lead that would yield some answers. All Week Plumbing was located in a small warehouse on Fox Run Road. It stood out at the end of a gravel driveway, surrounded by tall, shouldered pines with a fresh layer of snow.
The building was a modest single-story structure made of weathered wood panels, with a sloping roof to shed the snow. The paint on the exterior had faded over time, giving it a rusty and worn appearance.
As they approached, they noticed a couple of plumbing trucks parked outside. The vehicles matched the one they’d seen in the video footage captured by a door camera during canvassing. The snow had settled on the vans’ windshields, but the company logo, All Week Plumbing, was visible on the sides.
Noah parked the Bronco.
As they were taking a closer look at the vans in question, a tall man dressed in blue overalls emerged from the warehouse. His hands were smeared with grease, and he appeared somewhat nervous. “Can I help you?” he asked, his voice hinting at apprehension. Noah promptly flashed his badge.
“You the owner?”
The plumber shifted uneasily on the balls of his feet while thumbing over his shoulder. “No, that would be Harry Bromide. He’s inside,” he answered, leading them through a doorway into the warehouse.
The air inside was heavy with a scent of metal and dampness, mixed with the faint aroma of chemicals used for plumbing repairs. The warehouse was well-organized, with shelves neatly stacked with pipes, fittings, and other plumbing supplies. Tools hung from pegboards on the walls, and workbenches were scattered across the space, showcasing disassembled faucets and plumbing equipment.
The sound of humming machinery and the occasional clatter of metal tools could be heard, creating a bustling atmosphere. Noah glanced at shelving jam-packed with spare parts and crates of plumbing fixtures, arranged methodically, awaiting their deployment to upcoming jobs. The dim lighting, provided by a few flickering fluorescent tubes, cast elongated shadows across the workspace.
“Harry! Hey, Harry!” the plumber called out as they entered a larger area. “We got visitors,” he announced before pointing Noah toward the owner. Harry, a man in his late fifties with a bald head, met them halfway, wiping his hands on a stained rag. Despite his age, he maintained a sturdy build and no-nonsense expression. Grease stains adorned his hands from years of service that no amount of soap could wash clean. He wore faded blue jeans and scuffed work boots.
Noah flashed his badge once again. “State Investigator Noah Sutherland and this is Deputy Thorne from the Adirondack Sheriff’s Office. We have some questions for you,” he stated, his tone professional.
Harry looked back at them through suspicious eyes, clearly wondering about the nature of their visit. “Look, if it’s about my son Patrick missing the appointment with his probation officer, his truck broke down. I couldn’t spare one of our guys to help him out there,” he explained, a hint of frustration in his voice.
Noah glanced at Callie before replying, finding his response interesting. “It’s not about that. So, your son has a record?”
Harry nodded, his expression a mix of disappointment and embarrassment. “Shoplifting. Multiple offenses. He did a year inside. He made some bad decisions. But I’ve got him working for me,” he admitted, with both concern and pride in his voice.
Noah nodded, acknowledging his statement. “Is he around?” he asked, scanning the warehouse with a curious gaze, taking in the sight of equipment and supplies.
Harry shook his head. “No, he’s out on a job,” he replied. It was clear he was worried.
As Noah’s gaze wandered, he noticed rows of wrenches and other tools and a whiteboard displaying a schedule of upcoming jobs. It seemed like a typical setup for a plumbing company, organized and well-equipped. A young lady was sitting at a desk in a separate office, tapping away at keys but observing them keenly.
“How many vehicles does your company have?” Noah inquired.
Harry looked a bit confused by the question but still provided the answer. “Six. Why?” His brow furrowed slightly.
Noah paused before responding. “Did you respond to a job near the hospital last night, around 8 p.m.?” His words hung in the air, creating a moment of anticipation.
