At 4:06:10, the hooded figure released the chain and swung the gate away from the drive. Coyle reversed the tape and played it again. This time he could see the person had a tool, probably a screwdriver, to dismantle the lock. The figure, who was short and appeared to be a man, walked out of the picture back toward the entrance. Coyle enlarged the best image and printed a picture. He made a note on a legal pad to check the lock for prints.

He picked up his phone to call Adrienne. But before he hit speed dial, he stopped. If she was in a meeting, what message would he leave? Say he missed her? Whenever he said things like that, she looked embarrassed. Should he remind her to cook the chicken they bought yesterday, or did that sound like they were married?

He couldn’t talk about the case. Besides, she would think it weird he was sitting in a dark room spying on someone. He had spent so much of his life not knowing what to say. “Use your words, Martin,” his mother had told him when he was little and couldn’t speak. What he really wanted to tell Adrienne was he missed hearing her voice. Or did that make him a stalker? Coyle put down his phone and looked back at his laptop.

Maybe the problem with Adrienne was he came across as too techie. Is that how everyone saw him? Why did Eddie always assign him the tech stuff? He was as good as the others in the field. Six months ago, he had run down and cuffed a parole violator. Rivas couldn’t have made that run. But now the new members of the team, Frames and Eden, were being assigned interrogations ahead of him.

Coyle hit forward on the recording software. A car appeared, driving through the entrance and out of sight. What was that? He reversed the tape and ran it again. The car was an older model sedan. Too dark to see the color. No license on the front. The driver was nothing but a shadow. Coyle stopped the tape at 4:09:50 and printed an image. He made a note to see if the image could be improved to reveal more of the driver or the car.

He now ran the tape slowly. Fourteen minutes later, at 4:23:14, the car came back into view, driving out the same way it had come in. Coyle reversed to replay the tape several times. The angle of the streetlamp made it impossible to see the license plate. But on the trunk he could see a three-pointed star emblem distinctive of a Mercedes, and the round taillights of an older model. Late fifties, he guessed. He printed an image of the departing car.

The hooded figure reappeared, replaced the chain and lock, and walked out of sight. It was 4:29:27.

(ii)

(TUESDAY, 1:27 P.M.)