“His last name is Killington,” I tell her, and she types.

“What else do you have?” Ryan asks.

She closes Wayne’s folder, which appears to be chock full of security video clips, and opens the next folder.

The man in the frozen screenshot wears a suit and tie. He has dark hair. The screenshot is black and white, so it’s not possible to discern colors.

“Do you have any images in color?”

“No. This guy’s system is from the nineties.”

I lean forward to get a better look at his face. He’s an attractive man. I would guess he’s in his early to mid-thirties, which is intriguing, because I would expect any employees visiting Jack’s home would be executive level, and therefore older.

“I don’t recognize him. Do you?” Ryan places one hand on the back of my chair and leans closer to the monitor.

“No. Send me your best screenshot of his face. I don’t need video. Who’s next?”

The next image shows a guy in baggy shorts, flip-flops, and a t-shirt. He’s wearing sunglasses. His hair is lighter. Possibly blond. He’s baby faced.

“That’s one of her friends. We met him at the school.”

“How many visitors need to be identified?”

“A lot. Sorry. I thought I pulled out her friends.”

“Let’s focus on the adults. Actually, Jack went through all the photos on her phone and identified them. You can cross reference with those. The file is on the server.” Erik gestures for Ryan from the conference room doorway. “When you’ve got those photos, send them over. Let’s create a list of all the house visitors, date, and time.”

“You know we don’t have any accurate video from Monday?”

“Yes. But it’s worth looking to see who came by in the months leading up. Go back six months.” His gaze sweeps over me, and I can’t tell at all what he’s thinking. Is he wondering why I am sitting with Shiloh? Does he want me to be doing something else? He leaves without a word to join Erik.

My gaze follows his broad shoulders and dark hair. He’s wearing Saturday casual shorts and trainers, yet his vibe remains all business. A man on a mission. Which is a complete turn-on. The shirt covers those muscles, but I know exactly what those extensive shoulders and muscular back look like with water beading down like sweat droplets. His sculpted ass flexes with each step above powerful, muscular legs.

“He’s hot.” Shiloh’s words bring my wayward mind back to our task at hand. “But those eyes are a little freaky.”

“So, who’s next?”

She pulls up a photo of a man I would guess is in his sixties in a golf shirt and slacks. I don’t recognize him.

“Put that in our executive folder.”

“How do you know he’s an executive?”

“I don’t, but it’s possible he’s a colleague. Next?”

She pulls up another photo. “Delivery.”

“I have a separate folder of all deliveries.”

“Does he get a lot of deliveries?”