The 13: Fall by Robbie Cheuvront, Erik Reed, Shawn Allen

she shouted to the guy. “Don’t touch that! FBI!”
    The guy stood frozen, as if in a panic.
    Keene stepped out of the office and over to the terminal where Taylor was. “We should get it printed.”
    “Do you know how many sets of prints are going to be on this keyboard?” she asked rhetorically. “Besides, he wore gloves.”
    “Really? And how do you know that?”
    “Wouldn’t you?”
    Keene realized she was right.
    Taylor took the computer from the guy and set it back down at the station. She moved her eyes around like she was looking for someone.
    “Hey you, electrician guy.”
    The man she spoke to turned and said, “Who me?”
    “Yeah, you. How long till you get power back up to this store?”
    “Aw man, this place is a mess. Whole junction box is fried. Probably going to take a week, at least.”
    “A week!” It was the manager.
    “Sorry, man,” the electrician said. “Someone did a real number here.”
    “We need to get this to an FBI office,” Taylor said to Keene. They can have an analyst try to recover the hard drive and see if there’s anything on it that will help us.”
    “Then let’s do it,” Keene said. He turned to the manager. “We’ll be confiscating this computer. We’ll get you a receipt.”
    “Hey,” the manager said. “You can’t just take that. And what’s going on here?”
    “We can and just did,” Keene said. “We’ll be in touch if we need anything else.”
    As he and Taylor stepped outside, Boz was waiting for them.
    “See that, over there?” he said.
    “See what?” Keene asked.
    “That bank,” Boz answered. “See what’s in front of the bank?”
    “The ATM!” Taylor said.
    “Surveillance camera,” Keene said. “That’s good. We’ve got a possible description, if that’s what you want to call it. Maybe that camera caught our guy going in or coming out.”
    “That’s what I was thinking,” Boz said.
    “Here,” Taylor said, handing him the computer. “Take this back to the truck. Keene and I will go find out about our camera.”
    Boz took the computer and walked back to the truck. Keene and Taylor crossed the street to the bank.
    Inside, Keene found the bank manager and told him who they were. Though the manager had questions, Keene couldn’t tell him much. The manager voiced his reluctance but ultimately gave his permission to look at the ATM footage. It, too, Keene learned, was captured digitally, and the feed came directly to the security suite on the second floor. The manager led them to the elevators, swiped his key card, and escorted them to the security suite.
    “This is Davies,” he said of the suit in the chair behind the desk. “Formerly a detective with the Chicago PD.”
    “Nice to meet you.” Keene shook the man’s hand.
    “What can I do for you?” Davies asked.
    “We’d like to take a look at the footage from the ATM camera over the last couple hours,” Taylor said.
    “Sure,” Davies said. “Let me pull it up over there.” He pointed to a large flat screen on the side wall. It sat in the middle of at least ten other smaller screens. Each one revealed a video feed from somewhere in the bank.
    “Nice setup you have here,” Taylor said.
    “It’s the cost of doing business,” Davies said.
    He punched a couple buttons on the keyboard and the flat screen flicked. In another second, an image of the Internet café across the street came into focus.
    “Take it back to three hours ago,” Taylor instructed.
    The video came up and started moving forward. Fortunately, there were only two ATM customers during the footage. Even then, the camera was situated so as to allow at least partial view of the front door to the café across the street.
    Several minutes of footage passed by in fast motion without any luck.
    But at almost two hours into the time code, there he was. A man wearing a ball cap and a hoodie approached the café.
    “There!” Keene said. “Slow it down.”
    Davies did as he was told and slowed the speed