Deadly Dreams by Kylie Brant

a great deal of imagination and an ingenious flexibility that had him frowning consideringly.
    She hung up only moments before other voices were heard. The uniforms had arrived on the scene.
    Loomis fast-forwarded again. “You appear shortly here, detective. And you, Chandler. But this is what I wanted to show you.” When she stopped the tape again, Risa was leading Nate in the direction of the tree. Several minutes passed before the picture tilted, righted itself, then went abruptly black.
    “Ke-e-ep watching,” Loomis murmured, her eyes glued to the set. There were bursts of static as the picture scrambled, then cleared to show a different scene.
    Nate moved closer to the set, his shoulder bumping Risa’s as she moved at the same time. He squinted, trying to make out the image. It looked like a group of people gathered around a table. Not for a meal. There were no dishes in sight, although there were plenty of beer bottles. Part of the video was cut off, as if whoever had filmed the movie hadn’t centered it.
    Three men were in view, although one could be seen only from the back and one in profile. And given the length of the sideburns sported by the men, it had clearly been shot decades earlier. The conversation was a jumble of voices for the most part, with an occasional outburst of laughter.
    An unseen man was heard. “How the hell are you gonna make sure of that, Johnny?”
    The man shown in profile responded, his voice ringing out over the others. “How am I going to make sure? I’ll tell you how. ’Cuz if he doesn’t, I’m going to cut off his long black dong, chop it into little pieces, and force-feed it to that nigger-loving bitch of his.” He turned his head and looked across the room in the direction of the camera. “You hear that, Lamont?”
    Raucous laughter sounded. A jolt of recognition struck him, but he couldn’t put his finger on the feeling of familiarity. “That man.” He reached out and tapped the face on the TV screen. “Not the loud mouth. Second to his right.” He frowned, searching his memory. It wasn’t someone he knew, at least not directly. Swearing silently, he tried to recall the context in which he’d seen the man. Someone he’d arrested? Not likely. He’d probably been a kid when this thing was filmed. An old newspaper clipping?
    The realization slammed into him with the force of a fist.
    He looked at Morales. “It’s the first victim. Roland Parker.”
    The captain looked from him to the screen, then back again. “What? Are you sure?” They leaned nearer to the TV. “Can you back that up, Karen? Right to the spot where they all start laughing? Yeah, there. Stop.” They stared in silence for a moment. “Maybe. Maybe,” Morales muttered. “How can you be certain?”
    “I can’t be positive. But I attended Parker’s memorial service. No viewing, of course, so his wife had pictures everywhere. Lots of them were older. I’d swear it was him.” He looked at the IT tech. “Is it possible to get a picture from this tape? Like a close-up?”
    She nodded. “It won’t be the clearest, since blowing it up will blur some of the clarity. And the tape isn’t in that great of shape to begin with. But yeah, we can pause it, take a picture, and you can show the photo to the widow for an ID.”
    Risa spoke. “Or compare it to the man’s older department ID photos.”
    “Yeah. Yeah.” Nate was concentrating fiercely on the screen. He had to approach this cautiously but certainty was growing inside him. It was Parker, he was almost sure of it. And if he was right, they’d found their first link on this case. “Get us a still of the speaker, too, will you?”
    “We’ll do our best. What happened is the footage from the crime scene was shot over this older tape,” Karen said after they watched the tape until it ran out. “And I already know what you’re going to ask.” She sent a sly look to Nate. “The answer is no.”
    “Can you remove what was filmed over it