Angie studied Nadine’s body language carefully. At first, she had seemed a little unsure, a bit defensive, but warmed up as the conversation went on. She began leaning toward him. Her arms had uncrossed and showed openness, receptiveness to whatever he was discussing with her.
At some point, Musgrave wandered into the frame and soon wandered out. Angie saw him right away, though he pointed himself out in case anyone had missed him. Something the man said to Nadine appeared to make her anxious . . . or embarrassed perhaps. She looked to the ground, shifting her weight from foot to foot. She shrugged. She studied the card he gave to her.
Who was this man? Angie wondered. What did he want with a sixteen-year-old girl? What the hell were they talking about? Angie wished the surveillance footage also captured sound. The man gestured with his hands and seemed to be asking a question of Nadine. Then he paused, took out his cell phone, and began a conversation with someone else.
Musgrave wandered back into the frame. He lingered, appearing to notice the encounter between the older man and younger girl before he wandered away again, but they took no notice of him. The man on the phone tossed his head back, and even without sound it was obvious he gave a little laugh. Then the man put his phone away and returned his gaze to Nadine.
More conversation ensued, but the girl still looked unsure. The man’s body language was harder for Angie to read. Disappointment, perhaps? The two shook hands, and the man turned around and walked away.
Angie watched with bated breath. What would Nadine do? Could this be a pivotal moment that would forever change her life?
Nadine hesitated long enough for Angie to think she was going to walk in the opposite direction. Angie’s heart sank when Nadine went running in the same direction as the man.
“We need the next camera!”
Vincent checked the maps. “That’s SF-R3L.” After some more clicking, he got the video to load. It was like a scene transition from a movie. There was the man, walking away when Nadine came running into the frame. More conversation took place and the man and Nadine walked out of the frame together.
“Where are they going?”
Sean and Vincent exchanged looks. Both studied the map.
“From here? I’d say the parking garage,” Musgrave answered. Vincent concurred.
“Do you have cameras there?” Angie was thinking vehicle make and model, a license plate maybe, but Vincent’s frown damped her hopes.
“Light is too low there for these cameras, I’m sorry to say.”
Angie gave this some thought. “We need to get pictures of this man to the DC police.”
“No problem,” Vincent said. “I can get that done for you today.”
“Great.”
From her purse, Angie fished out her car keys and handed them to Mike.
“What’s this for?” he asked.
“You said you had a big bouncy house delivery.”
“Yeah. So?”
“So, take my car back to Falls Church and get your work done. I’m going to stay here for a while.”
“And what, pray tell, will you be doing here?”
“I think this guy is a predator,” Angie said.
Mike seemed unmoved by Angie’s observation. “So?”
“So, if I’m a smart hunter and I found a good feeding ground, you better believe I’m going to come back.”
CHAPTER 19
Exhibit D: Excerpts from the journal of Nadine Jessup, pages 35-37
It was a warm spring afternoon when I left the studio with Ricardo. Don’t ask me what day or date. I’ve lost track. Ricardo told me we were moving out, so I had to get all my stuff together. I asked him where we were going. He looked at me and I could tell not to ask that question again. I got this feeling that I was done. They had tried everything to make me into Jessica Barlow. But I’m no JBar. I’m a failure. I’m a loser like my so-called friends think I am. It was a wake-up call for me, what Ricardo pointed out. Their posts, the way they talked about me. Calling me fat. Jump off a bridge.
Maybe I should. Maybe I should go find a bridge and stop being anyone’s problem. Would it hurt? I think about it. How would I want to die? Cut my wrists? I hate blood. Maybe pills. But what if I just puke it all up. Jumping from a bridge . . . that freaks me out because I’m imaging how scared I’ll be on the way down. Then I guess it won’t matter. But I hate roller coasters. That’s a funny reason not to kill yourself, but if I came to a bridge and got the opportunity, it’s probably what would keep me from jumping off.