The shooter quickly moved to the left of the screen and stooped to pick up something unseen. The bullet casing. He then darted to the right and disappeared from the screen. McCaleb watched for a few moments. The only figure in the picture was the still form of Cordell on the pavement below the machine. The only movement was the widening pool of blood around his head. Seeking the lower ground, the blood slid into a joint in the pavement and started moving in a line toward the curb.
A minute went by and then a man entered the video screen, crouching over Cordell’s body. James Noone. He was bald across the top of his head and wearing thin-framed glasses. He touched the wounded man’s neck, then looked around, probably to make sure he was safe himself. He then jumped up and was gone, presumably to make the call on his cell phone. Another half minute went by before Noone returned to the frame to wait for help. As the time went by, Noone swiveled his head back and forth, apparently fearing that the gunman, if not in the car he had seen speeding away, might still be around. Finally, his attention was drawn in the direction of the street. His mouth opened in a silent scream and he waved his arms above his head as he apparently watched the paramedics speed by. He then jumped up and left the screen again.
A few moments later the screen jumped. McCaleb checked the time and saw that it was now seven minutes later. Two paramedics moved quickly into place around Cordell. They checked for pulse and pupil response. They ripped open his shirt and one of the rescuers listened to his chest with a stethoscope. Another quickly arrived with a wheeled stretcher. But one of the first two looked at the man and shook his head. Cordell was dead.
A few moments later the screen went blank.
After pausing a moment, almost in reverence, McCaleb put in the crime scene tape next. This was obviously taken from a hand-held video camera. It started with some environmental shots of the bank property and the street. In the bank lot there were two vehicles: a dusty white Chevy Suburban and a smaller vehicle barely visible on its other side. McCaleb assumed the Suburban was Cordell’s. It was large and rugged, dusty from driving the mountain and desert roads alongside the aqueduct. He assumed the other car belonged to the witness, James Noone.
The tape then showed the ATM and panned downward to the blood-stained sidewalk in front of it. Cordell’s body was sprawled in the spot where the paramedics had found it and then left it. It was uncovered, the dead man’s shirt open, his pale chest exposed.
Over the next several minutes the video jumped in time through various stages of the crime scene. First a criminalist measured and photographed the scene, then coroner’s investigators worked on the body, wrapped it in a plastic body bag and removed it on a gurney. Lastly, the criminalist and a latents man moved in to search the crime scene more thoroughly for evidence and fingerprints. There was a segment showing the criminalist using a small metal spike to work the bullet slug out of the wall next to the ATM.
Finally, there was a bonus McCaleb had not been expecting. The camera operator recorded James Noone’s first recounting of what he had seen. The witness had been taken to the edge of the bank property and was standing next to a public phone and talking to a uniformed deputy when the cameraman wandered up. Noone was a man of about thirty-five. He appeared-in comparison to the deputy-to be short and compactly built. He now had on a baseball cap. He was agitated, still pumped by what he had witnessed and apparently frustrated by the screwup with the paramedics. The camera had been turned on in mid-conversation.
“All I’m saying is that he had a fighting chance.”
“Yes, sir, I understand. I’m sure it will be one of the things they take a look at.”
“I mean, I think somebody ought to investigate how this could-and the thing is, we’re only what, a half mile from the hospital?”
“We’re aware of that, Mr. Noone,” the deputy said patiently. “Now if we could just move on for a moment. Could you tell me if you saw anything before you found the body? Anything unusual.”
“Yes, I saw the guy. At least I think I did.”
“What guy is that?”
“The robber. I saw the getaway car.”
“Can you describe that, sir?”
“Sure, black Cherokee. The new kind. Not one of those that look like a shoe box.”
The deputy looked a bit confused but McCaleb understood that Noone was describing a Grand Cherokee model. He had one himself.
“I was pulling in and it came tearing out of here, almost hit me,” Noone said. “The guy was a real asshole. I blasted my horn at him, then I pull in and find this man here. I called on my cell phone but then it got all fucked up.”
“Yes, sir. Can you refrain from that kind of language? This might be played in court one day.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
“Can we go back to this car? Did you happen to see a license plate?”
“I wasn’t even looking.”
“How many people in the vehicle?”
“I think one, the driver.”
