“Right now, can you play it back? So we can watch it?” he asked, suddenly on fire.

“Yeah, sure.” Rebecca was on board.

“I’ll need a copy for the police.”

“No problem.” She gave Tony instructions to watch the front desk and led Bentz to a small area with a TV monitor and tape machine. As Rebecca said, the security system was hardly state of the art, but Bentz didn’t care. He just wanted something, anything, that would help him find Olivia.

Rebecca sat at the tiny desk, pushed a few buttons, and rewound the black-and-white tape. Images reversed quickly on the monitor, people walking and running jerkily backward, cars in reverse. “There,” she said as a jogger appeared. She rewound the tape until the runner was caught in the camera’s eye.

Just as Tony had suspected, the jogger cut across the parking lot, slid the envelope from inside a jacket, and dropped it by the door.

But watching her on tape, Bentz didn’t think it was the woman who pretended to be Jennifer. He wasn’t even certain it was a woman, but it seemed that way. Her clothes were bulky, hiding her shape, but there was something about the chin and neck, no Adam’s apple visible, not a hint of peach fuzz or beard shadow, although it was hard to be sure considering the indistinct quality of the moving image.

Nonetheless, it was something.

“Ever seen this person before?” he asked Rebecca.

“I don’t think so, but it’s hard to tell with the baseball cap and dark glasses.”

“Tony!” Bentz called and the boy, looking bored as hell, returned. “You were right. This is the person you saw, right?”

“Yeah.” He lifted his shoulder again, as if it were his signature move. “I guess.”

“Did you notice anything else about the runner? Color of clothes or hair or car nearby?”

“Nah, but that’s the person. See there? She’s dropping the package.”

“She?”

“Yeah, I think. Hey, I don’t know, man.”

“Tony,” Rebecca said sharply. “This isn’t just Mr. Bentz. He’s a detective with the New Orleans Police Department and his wife is missing. Kidnapped. There’s a good chance this jogger,” she pointed to the monster, “is involved, so please think. Think real hard.”

“I am!” he said, throwing up his hands. “Holy crap, Mom, don’t you ever listen to me? Didn’t I tell you that was everything I knew? And there…there she is on the tape. I didn’t see any more than that.” He eyed Bentz suspiciously, as if he expected to be busted at any second.

“What about the color of her clothes?”

“Nah…” He snapped his fingers. “But I think I thought she was a woman because of her shoes. They…they don’t look like a guy’s.”