Investigation_May's POV

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“Sorry, I’m late

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“Sorry, I’m late.” I apologize trying to be loud enough. The airport is a beehive of activity. I'm not too fond of crowded, noisy places, but my job has this habit of sending me to exactly those kinds of places. 
“It’s not so much that you are late as what exactly you think you can see that we haven’t already.” Xavier shoots back, as always. I’m beginning to think this man has beef with me. I slightly bend my head as my eyes automatically squint, and I hope he understands I do not appreciate his language. By now, we are nearing the CCTV monitoring room.
“We have less than 30 minutes left.” Xavier states.
“That will be 25.’ A guard says from behind us.
“Don’t worry; I won’t need that much time anyway.” I counter. It appears I am learning some new skills.
“So…” I start as I square myself on the chair. “I was wondering; when you went through the footage, what were you looking for exactly?” I ask.
“Someone following her, anything out of order, the usual….”Mark responds.
Half my attention is on the screen. There are hours upon hours of footage; I can only imagine how fast anyone would give up looking. But I am more specific; I know what I am looking for.
“This victim was not planned; she was a mere coincidence. This tells me she may not even have met or seen him. Then again, this airport is always this crowded and chaotic; therefore, it would be pretty hard for anyone to notice anything worth the minimum amount of intrigue from within…Therefore, we are looking for….” I explained before the guard cut me in.
“Someone on the outside.”
I swerve around for a second and, raising my right forefinger go, “Perfect…this individual is either a taxi driver, an employee here, or someone who was also at the airport by coincidence. Either way, he saw her, he wanted her, and so he followed her.” I elaborate further as I trail Jean through the corners of my eyes while also looking for anyone who may have been paying attention to her.
“What’s that?” Mark asks, taking a step too close. I can literally feel him breathing down my neck. But he doesn’t even seem to notice my discomfort. So I deal and briefly shake my head. “Go back, a few seconds.” He emphasizes, and so I do. “There!” he exclaims almost too loudly. Or is it the proximity?
“Okay, what exactly are we looking at?” Xavier asks. I was wondering where that impatience went. I think to myself, trying to hide a smile by biting the insides of my left cheek.
“That guy…” Mark explains, placing his forefinger on the image he is referring to. He continues, “Notice the way he moves?”
“He goes around the car and then stops.” I make the observation and pause for a minute. “He is looking at someone.” We all watch quietly as he leans against the hood of his car for a few minutes, staring in one direction, only moving his head, and then he drives off. There are only two problems with this triumph; he is facing off the camera the whole time, and we cannot tell for sure he was looking at Jean. She disappears from the camera angle just as he appears.

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