Arthur Whitmore Demanded A False Alibi For Caleb In Columbus Parking Garage
The monitor flickered with grey and white shapes, showing the lobby entrance in fast-forward.
Patients with walkers and nurses in scrubs blurred past the reception desk.
“Stop there,” I said, tapping the screen.
Tom slowed the playback.
The time stamp read seven-thirty-two AM.
A man in a dark brown overcoat walked through the sliding glass doors.
He adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses with his left hand as he stepped onto the tile.
“That’s him,” I said.
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