"Roll it back," Harlan said. "Twenty-five minutes."
Frank's fingers moved across the keyboard. The timestamps in the corners of the screens spun backward. Figures appeared, walked in reverse, and disappeared.
At twenty-three minutes back, a woman appeared in the service hallway pushing a tall cleaning cart. She stopped, took her phone from her pocket, looked at the screen, and then lifted it to her ear. She listened for perhaps thirty seconds. Then her free hand rose slowly to cover her mouth.
"That's her," Frank said quietly.
"Keep going."
The woman lowered her hand from her mouth, looked once down the corridor toward the elevators, and then turned and walked quickly in the opposite direction—away from the cameras, toward the freight lift. She left her cart where it stood. The cart appeared in two of the screens for the next nineteen minutes, motionless, the small lamp on its handle still glowing.
"Where does the freight lift go?" Harlan asked.
"Down to the loading dock or up to the roof, sir. Service access only. It does not stop in the lobby."
"Pull the loading dock cameras."
Frank's hands moved again. The loading dock came up on the largest of the screens. Two delivery vans were parked along the far wall. A man in a maintenance uniform was checking a clipboard near the bay doors. There was no sign of Vanessa Brooks.
"Roof cameras."
The roof access door was closed. The small landing in front of it was empty. The view from the camera above the door showed nothing but gray gravel and an HVAC unit humming softly in the morning light.