He held the door while she entered the Columbia Center building. Then he went straight for the directory, and she followed him. “Is that the same guard that was here earlier?” he asked.
“No. He’s different.”
Okay. Cole hoped he could work his magic. No one was required to help him or offer him security feed, and sometimes they demanded a court order, but he had a knack for getting what he wanted, and he had a feeling about this guard. “Why don’t you sit in one of those chairs over near the bank and wait?”
“Okay. Sure.” He watched Jo find a seat as he scanned the place without giving away that he was checking all egresses—complex in a structure like this—and makingnote of every person. Then he headed for the security guard, who had definitely noticed and appeared to size him up. Cole needed to make sure the security guard understood that he wasn’t a threat.
So he introduced himself and flashed his private investigator credentials. “I’m hoping you can help me.”
“Nick Freeman. You’re former military?” Nick asked.
Nick was obviously trained to read people. Vets or current servicemen often had a certain posture and demeanor about them.
“Army. You?” Cole preferred not to offer more information than necessary.
“Army. Thirty-Eight Bravo, Civil Affairs. Then I was a local cop for twenty-five years. The security guard gig keeps me home at night. My wife is happy. We’re raising grandkids, so everyone’s happy.”
“I hear you. I list my services with CGIS, which is owned and operated by vets. They connect clients with vets who offer protective services, investigations, you name it.”
Nick leveled his gaze on Cole. “What can I help you with?”
“Maybe you can put me in touch with the head of security. I’d like to review footage from this morning. Sometime between eight o’clock and noon. What do you need from me to make that happen?” Properties had their own security policies, but sometimes a person could get around the hard rules. Rules might be rules, but people were people.
“I’ll see what I can do.” Nick got on his radio and asked for another guard to cover for him.
Cole figured that he’d made a friend. That Nick would help him.
“Have a seat, and I’ll come get you. I’ll take you over myself.”
Cole nodded, appreciation in his eyes. He rarely ran intoissues. As long as a person knew how to play the game and asked nicely, they got what they needed without having to push the edge of the legal envelope. He took a seat next to Jo and told her about his conversation.
Another guard approached Nick, and they talked, and then Nick gestured at Cole, waving for him to follow.
“Stay here.”
“But why?” she whispered.
“I’ll tell you everything, don’t worry.” Bringing her along could complicate matters. Thankfully, she backed down.
Jo flipped open a magazine, and Cole left her for a few minutes. He walked with Nick down the hall, and then Nick unlocked a door, and they entered into a security room, monitors revealing the various cameras around the building—the tallest building in Seattle, previously the tallest on the West Coast. Nick introduced Cole to two other guards.
Nick found the footage of the day, and they scanned the images for the timestamp. “There. I think that’s him.”
Though the man lookednothinglike the Raymond Dodge he’d met, in terms of his demeanor and how he dressed—the grease monkey, as Jo had called him—it was him, all right. Raymond ambled down the hall on the forty-sixth floor and joined a couple of men, walking with purpose. Cole was familiar with that tactic and could tell Dodge did it to blend in. Then Dodge entered an office.
“What’s that?” Cole asked.
“Advanced Technologies.” That could be anything.
“What do they do?”
“No clue.”
He could figure that out later.
“Is that it?” Nick asked. “Are we good?”
“Let’s wait a couple of minutes. I want to see what he does next.”
