Into the Dark

44

Downey and Camarillo, California

Tanner stared at Polaroid head shots of children displaying gap-toothed smiles as he sat in the dentist’s waiting room ruminating on the murders’ common denominator. Was it social, professional, physical, geographical or movements? All of the women had traveled in the months before their deaths. But travel seemed like a weak connection. Still, there was no way these were random kills.

Anxious at being away this morning Tanner checked his phone once more. Tips were being followed but he had no messages of significance from across the county or the supporting police agencies. No leads from the LAPD or the FBI.

As if impulsively reaching for help, he thumbed through his menu and played one of the short video messages from his wife. His heart warmed upon seeing Becky’s face, and he lowered the volume to a whisper as she greeted him with advice.

“Eventually after I’m gone, you’ll have to start building a new life. You’ll have to find someone new.” Becky brushed her eyes. “I want you to find someone, Joe. Sam will need a new mom for her life ahead, graduation, her wedding, her first baby. I don’t want you to be alone. Okay?”

A door clicked open and Sam rushed to him with a report.

“No cavities, Dad!”

The dental hygienist made notes on a clipboard.

“She’s lucky, Mr. Tanner. In Sam’s age group we usually find a couple.”

“She likes brushing and flossing,” he said.

“Keep up the good work, Sam,” the hygienist said. “I’ll see you again in a few months.”

In the parking lot, Tanner turned Sam to him, bent down and gave her a hug and kiss.

“You know I love you, pal.”

“I know, Dad.”

“Now, we have to get you to school and get me to work.” At that moment Tanner’s phone rang and he answered.

“Joe, it’s Mark Harding. He wrote to me again and directed me to something you should see.”

“What is it?”

“A doll with a woman’s name.”

“One of the five?”

“No, a new name-Amber. Isn’t there a missing person named Amber?”

“Hang on. Are you at your office?”

“No, I’m in Camarillo at the spot where he left the doll.”

“You’re at the freaking scene?” Mindful of Sam, Tanner turned and dropped his voice. “What’s going on? Who else knows?”

“No one else but the ANPA knows.”

“Damn it! Don’t move! Don’t touch anything! Give me your location.”

“We’re not going anywhere. Stand by, I’m sending you my copy of the killer’s directions to where we are.”

Once Tanner got Harding’s map, he forwarded it to task force members and alerted his lieutenant. Then he called Camarillo P.D. and the Ventura County Sheriff’s Office and requested them to protect the scene and “keep things off the air.” He didn’t want a news carnival waiting for him. Then he alerted Brad Knox, advising him to get the FBI to dispatch its Evidence Response Team up to Camarillo to process the material. Then he called Harvey Zurn.

“Meet me at my house, Harv. It’ll be faster for us to drop Sam off at school then go straight to the scene.”

The whole time Tanner was on the phone, Sam amused herself by hopping along the sidewalk cracks. She was happy to be with her dad.

* * *

A knot of Ventura County sheriff’s vehicles and ribbons of yellow plastic tape marked the site along University Drive. As Tanner and Zurn arrived, Tanner spotted Harding leaning against his car, talking to a deputy. Tanner’s jaw muscles throbbed when he interrupted them to pull Harding aside.

“What the hell are you doing, Mark? You should’ve called me before rushing out to play detective.”

“I called you. That’s why you’re here, instead of reading about it. Don’t try to accuse me of being irresponsible or uncooperative. He didn’t write to you, he wrote to me. I’m doing my job.”

“Your job? Take a look around.”

Puzzled, Harding scanned the area as more police vehicles arrived.

“This is a dirt road. You drove all over it. You and your friend with the camera tramped all over it and in the process you destroyed our chance for tire and shoe impressions. You contaminated the scene. Is that your job?”

“I could’ve not called you and you’d be reading about it in the L.A. Times or watching it on CNN.”

“And I would’ve charged you with interfering with an investigation.”

Harding looked off, saying nothing. He knew Tanner was under a lot of pressure, he heard it in his tone. Tanner looked to the scene and let a few moments pass.

“Are we going to slam heads all day out here?” Harding asked. “Or are we going to carry on professionally with our work? The latter, I hope.”

Tanner saw the FBI’s ERT people arriving, ran a hand over his face, then held up a finger to Harding.

“Don’t you move, Mark, understood?”

Tanner left him to consult with Knox as the FBI set up. For the next couple of hours the scene specialists conducted a meticulous analysis of the site and surroundings. They made sketches, took measurements, photographs and searched for impressions. Tanner and Knox studied photos the techs took of the doll and note as deputies canvassed the rural area. A chopper thudded above them taking aerial photographs while Ventura County K-9 units attempted to pick up any trail.

In Los Angeles, the LAPD had sent its crime scene team to the AllNews Press Agency bureau on Wilshire. By that time Harding had made several calls to Magda, who’d alerted Sebastian Strother, who’d called the news agency’s lawyers.

Again, the ANPA cooperated.

From Camarillo, Harding directed L.A. investigators by phone to where he’d placed the original letter and envelope so they could process it for any prints or DNA.

It was only a matter of time before the local press would be tipped to all the activity, descend on the scene and weaken his exclusive. Unable to wait any longer, he approached Tanner and Knox.

“I’d like a few comments before I file my story.”

“I’ve got nothing to say right now,” Tanner said.

“Off the record, then?”

Neither investigator said anything, so Tanner proceeded.

“Do you suspect this is tied to any specific case, any homicides or missing persons?”

“It’s too early to speculate about that.”

“Were you able to secure any fingerprints or DNA?” Harding asked.

“We’re still processing everything, and that’s not for attribution,” Tanner said.

“Come on, Joe.”

“Let me ask you a question, Mark. Did you notice the postmark on the envelope?”

“There was no postmark.”

“That’s right, which indicates he may have walked up to your building and delivered his letter by hand himself, or had someone else do it. We’re getting warrants for your building’s security cameras.”

“I’m quoting you.”

“No, you’re not. I’m telling you this so you get that you’ve cost us time.”

“Quit blaming me, Joe.” Harding turned to his phone and retrieved his photo of the note the killer had tied to the bound doll. “Look, what do you think he means with this line after the name, ‘She’s mine now’?”

“She’s either dead, or she’s going to be.”

A few tense seconds passed before Tanner’s name was called. His partner, Zurn, was at their car, holding up his cell phone and waving it. “I gotta go,” Tanner told Harding. “You and I will talk later. But you’d better call me before you write a freaking word. You got that?”

“I’ll call. Count on it. Jodi?” Harding shouted. “Let’s go back to L.A.!”

Tanner shot Harding a simmering glance, then turned and walked to Zurn. They huddled at their car.

“I think we’ve got something here, Joe.” Zurn held his hand over the phone. “Detective Ed Belinski with Alhambra P.D. wants to talk to you now.”

Tanner took Zurn’s phone.