Freezing

EIGHTEEN

Eric had resumed his position near the door inside the interrogation room. Scott sat across the table from Wayne, who appeared to have perked up after eating. His hands were clasped loosely on the table as though he was about to close a business deal and he was smiling childishly, like he had a secret.

Scott opened the thin manila folder he had brought into the room. It held a single typed sheet of paper, the font small and all in capitals, difficult to read upside down. From Wayne’s position, it could look like a printout of a police document. From Scott’s side of the table, it looked like a printout of turn-by-turn driving directions from the Mission Hotel to the Maricopa County Medical Examiner’s Office. Scott looked down at the sheet of paper and spoke.

‘We know where you picked her up, Spicer. The girl in your freezer.’

Wayne’s smile faltered.

Scott looked at him. ‘The One-oh-one a favorite of yours?’

Wayne jerked his arms off the table, putting his hands out of sight.

Scott looked at the sheet of directions again, then stared at Wayne. ‘She must have been different from the other ones.’ He watched a bead of sweat develop on Wayne’s upper lip. ‘We figured she was different because you didn’t cut her up.’

Wayne suddenly bared clenched teeth and pounded his fist on the table. ‘Stop saying that word!’

‘But once you had her in the van—’

‘It wasn’t a van!’ Wayne almost yelled. Then he spoke more softly. ‘It was a car.’

Scott remained silent.

Eric spoke quietly from his position by the door. ‘Your car, Wayne? You have a car as well as a van?’

Wayne smiled at Eric’s gentle tone, and directed his reply to him, ignoring Scott who was now leaning back in his chair. ‘No, I had a car. The van’s mine but it wasn’t always mine.’

‘When did you get the van?’

‘A little while ago.’ Wayne’s eyes looked beyond Eric, towards the door. A smile played on his lips. ‘I was going to go away in it. With Katie.’

‘Who sold you the van?’

‘I don’t know his name.’

‘What’d you pay for it?’

‘It was a trade. I traded him my car for his van.’

‘That’s pretty unusual, Wayne. Most people like cash. Sounds like you’re making this up. It’s always been your van.’

‘No, I told you, it was a trade. That nosy hag across the street will tell you. She saw the whole thing.’

Scott tensed. If Wayne had a witness, then this was a different ballgame. He waited impatiently for Eric’s next question.

‘When?’

‘Like I said, a little while ago.’

The answer was vague but Scott’s mind was already running with the implications of this. If Wayne Spicer was telling the truth, he was linked to the death of Katherine Alston but wasn’t responsible for the body parts they had found on the freeway, so likely had nothing to do with the crimes in Georgia. Scott’s mind raced. The Vehicle Identification Numbers on the dash and door of the van had been mutilated, which meant finding the registered owner would take time because the Crime Lab would have to dismantle the vehicle to locate the confidential VIN on the van’s frame. So if Wayne was telling the truth, they needed a description of his car and they needed a description of the man now driving it because that person was the real owner of the van. Scott glanced at Eric, who nodded and spoke.

‘When exactly, Wayne?’

Wayne’s focus came back to Eric but now he looked more petulant. ‘A couple of days. He swore it was clean.’

‘His name, Wayne. What’s his name?’

‘He doesn’t have a name.’

‘What do you mean, he doesn’t have a name?’

Wayne smiled. ‘I know his screen name.’

Eric had begun pacing around the room. Scott assumed his partner shared his impatience. If this man with no name really existed, he had eluded them again and they were spinning their wheels on the Freeway Case by interrogating Spicer for so long.

‘What are you talking about, Wayne?’ Eric sounded tense.

‘I met him on off-the-grid-dot-net.’

‘A website?’

‘The website. I’ve been getting tips there for when I go off . . . with Katie. No one will be able to find us. We’ll just be on a road trip all the time. Lots of people are doing it.’

‘OK. What’s his screen name?’

‘Tripper.’ Wayne sounded like he was boasting. ‘You won’t find him. He’s a Level Three. You never find those guys. They find you.’

‘So Tripper’s driving your car now, Wayne?’

He nodded.

‘Describe the car.’

Wayne put his hands back on the table and looked back at Scott for the first time. He became serious.

‘Only if you leave me and Katie alone.’

Scott looked at him. He tapped his pen on the tabletop as if he was considering opening negotiations but he was actually thinking about the fact that a serial killer was still on the highways. They needed to post a nationwide All Points Bulletin for ‘Tripper’ and the car without delay. He didn’t convey this through body language, only shrugging and looking towards Eric to draw Wayne’s eyes back there. Eric crossed to the table, looking at Wayne curiously.

‘Are you trying to bargain, Wayne?’

‘Well, yeah. I mean, you need me.’ He laughed uncertainly, seeming confused by the new edge in the agent’s voice.

Eric rested his palms on the table and brought his face down to Wayne’s ear. The angle was sharp and Wayne couldn’t turn his head to keep eye contact.

‘That’s where you’re wrong,’ Eric all but whispered. ‘If you don’t tell us, we’re going to track it down in the California DMV archives and your old registration is going to be right there, which will lead us straight to your car. Give it up, Wayne. There is no bargaining.’

Wayne looked back at Scott and then closed his eyes. He started to rock side to side in his seat like a schoolchild who needs to go to the bathroom.

‘Look at me, Wayne.’ Eric’s voice was firm as he stepped away.

Wayne looked but his lips were moving, forming silent words.

‘You’re not getting out of this.’

Wayne kept rocking and looked at the door. He was smiling and rocking. ‘Katie. Katie.’

As Scott watched him, he realized he believed Wayne. Tripper existed and Katie had been Wayne’s most cherished possession. He knew how to break him down. Scott leaned back in his chair and spoke.

‘They’ve cut her up, Spicer.’

Wayne stopped murmuring and rocking and squinted hard at Scott, who continued.

He smiled at Wayne. ‘You knew that, right?’ He pulled his chair up to the desk and looked at the file folder before speaking again, keeping his voice mild.

‘She’s not your Katie anymore, Spicer. She’s Katherine and they’ve cut her down her middle.’

‘You’re lying!’ Wayne spat out the words, saliva landing on the table in tiny, bursting bubbles.

Scott shook his head. ‘We saw her. Right before we came over here this morning.’

Wayne shook his head, faster and faster.

‘You know why they had to cut her up, right?’

Wayne looked at him, his mouth open in wonder.

‘Because of you.’ Scott shrugged. ‘If you hadn’t abducted and killed her, that never would have happened.’

Wayne shut his eyes tight and sucked in his lips.

‘How do you think they worked out who she was? They had to cut her up, check her out. Had to look at her bones – all that pretty flesh was no use. Didja know that, Spicer?’ Scott’s voice rose as he continued. ‘She’s not your Katie. She’s just a girl whose teeth are more important than everything else about her now.’ He was shouting now. ‘They took her teeth right out, Spicer. Cut ’em right out of her head.’

‘NO!’ Wayne shouted and pounded the table. ‘No!’

Scott stood up and leaned on the table, staring at Wayne’s face, which was screwed up tight, tears and sweat mingling on his quivering cheeks. He opened his eyes as though the room was too bright.

Scott caught his gaze and held it, speaking rapidly. ‘Her parents are going to pick her up. Ever think about her parents, Spicer? Huh? They’re taking her back home. By tomorrow, you won’t even be in the same state as her. Tell us about your car, Spicer. It’s just you now. Katie’s gone.’

Wayne looked panicked but couldn’t tear his eyes away from Scott, who decided that Wayne looked hungry for information and redemption.

‘Give us Tripper, Mr Spicer. Give us Tripper and you’re out of here for today. That means you can sit in the holding cell, which is right next to the morgue. Did you know that? You can spend one more night next to Katie. She’ll be next door. All wrapped up for her big trip tomorrow.’

Wayne wiped his face with his shirt. He struggled to form one word through his chattering teeth. ‘Please.’ Once he’d uttered it, he couldn’t stop. ‘Please. Please. Please.’

By the time Scott and Eric were back in the hallway outside the interview room, Scott was holding notes of Wayne Spicer’s description of Tripper, the alleged original owner of the van with the Georgia license plates. It didn’t differ significantly from the descriptions given by the witnesses in LA. Now, they just needed his real name.

They’d also obtained a description of Wayne’s car and dispatched Phoenix Police Department uniformed officers to Prickly Pear Close to conduct interviews that could confirm or refute Wayne’s story about his trade with Tripper. Their next job was to interview Wayne Spicer to get the details of how he had abducted Katherine Alston from the Hollywood Freeway in 1999.

They started down the hall to their temporary office, swerving around local officers making their way between ends of the building. Two male officers, one with a short afro and the other redheaded, both appearing almost too young to be in employment, stopped them. Neither officer addressed the agents with any deference and the redhead was chewing gum that was visible when he spoke.

‘We’re just finishing the report on the search of the Spicer garage. Do you want a verbal?’

‘Yeah,’ Scott replied. ‘What’d you find?’

‘Nothing,’ replied the one with the afro.

‘What do you mean by “nothing”?’

‘The guy’s a computer freak. He doesn’t own anything besides a huge chest freezer – totally clean – a fast computer, and some clothes. And, oh yeah, we deduced that he’s still into Halloween.’

The rookies laughed.

Scott looked at them and shifted on his feet. ‘What are you talking about?’

The redhead took over. ‘He’s got this closet, right? Everything’s all neatly folded, yeah? Sweat suits, pants, shirts. Except for this one Halloween costume hanging up. What a joke.’

Scott’s tone was flat. He was tired of having to extract each piece of information with a question. ‘What kind of costume?’

‘Police uniform.’ He snapped his gum loudly and looked down at his own uniformed front. ‘Pretty shitty imitation of an LAPD kit.’

Scott went cold.

Eric grabbed the redhead’s upper arms. ‘Listen to me, was there a badge?’

The young officer’s gum fell out of his mouth in his surprise at being manhandled. He turned his head away as Eric’s face came frighteningly close to his.

‘Was there a badge?’

Scott pulled down on Eric’s arms. He dropped them to his sides but kept glaring. The rookie looked like he wanted to get away from both agents. He directed his response to Eric.

‘No, man. No badge.’

Steelie answered her cell phone and was surprised to hear Eric launching into questions without so much as a greeting, and they weren’t questions about the wiretap at the Agency.

‘I need to know if you ever got a summons after driving away from that cop.’

‘No.’

‘What did he look like?’

‘I mostly remember his swagger—’

‘Could you tell his ethnicity?’

‘I’m pretty sure he was white. Light-colored moustache. Couldn’t really see his face because of his glasses and the hat.’

‘What about build?’

‘Regular. Maybe slim.’

She heard him speaking to someone else. ‘He wasn’t overweight. No way it’s him.’

‘What’s going on, Eric?’

His voice came back to her. ‘Look, a fake LAPD uniform was found with the perp we’ve pulled in out here. It made us think of what happened to you because this guy might have used the uniform to get the vic into his car.’

‘Shit.’

‘But our guy doesn’t match your description so it’s either a coincidence or there’s another guy out there doing the same thing. And listen, Steelie, we caught a Thirty-two One case out here. I can’t give you any details but we want you all to have a head’s up.’

Steelie hung up but sat trying to recall the cop – she’d convinced herself it had been a cop – who’d stopped her, when Carol’s voice came through the desk telephone to say that she had Ben Alston holding on Line 1 for either Steelie or Jayne. Line 1’s blinking red light went solid before Steelie could get to her desk, so she trotted up to Jayne’s office.

Jayne was clearly being told a string of facts because she was only murmuring ‘I understand,’ or ‘OK.’ Steelie read Jayne’s notes from upside down.

Call fr MI in Maricopa. Kate ID’d. COD broken neck. No sexual assault. Liaise tomorrow—

Then Jayne said, ‘All right. Did the medical investigator tell you which medical examiner you’d be dealing with? Bodell? You’d be fine with her, she has a very comfortable manner . . . No – of course, if you would like us to liaise, we will . . . All right, Ben, thank you, that’s very generous. We’ll hear from you shortly then.’ She stood as she finished the call and Carol came into the room.

Carol asked, ‘Has something happened? I could hear it in his voice when I answered the phone.’

Jayne shook her head in consternation. ‘He’s completely worked up. Kate’s been found dead but even though he’s been told she died quickly and wasn’t assaulted, he can’t understand why he got a phone call from a medical investigator at the ME’s Office in Phoenix. The police told the Alstons in ’ninety-nine that there were no signs of a struggle in or around her car when it was found on the Hollywood Freeway, so they’re trying to figure out why she would have willingly gotten out of her car and gone with someone to Arizona.’

Steelie raked her hair back from her forehead. ‘I think I know why.’ She thought for a second then let her bangs flip back. ‘OK, I just had a call from Eric, asking me about my tail light stop last Thursday. He said they’ve picked up a suspect in Arizona who’s a civilian with a fake LAPD uniform. And he also said that they’ve come across one of our cases out there. There’s a chance it could be Kate Alston and the uniform is related.’

Jayne sat back on the edge of her desk. ‘Well, the Alstons are hell-bent on finding out what happened. They’re flying to Phoenix in the morning and I agreed for us to liaise when they go to the ME’s Office. They’re picking up our flights too.’

Steelie said, ‘Well, if Scott and Eric’s case does involve Kate, then someone may be able to tell her parents what happened.’

Jayne looked at Carol. ‘You’re the expert on this.’

Carol spoke without hesitation. ‘The family needs to know. Give them the hard stuff and they will handle it.’

‘But the detail about the uniform will be sub judice, so . . . we can’t tell them but we can urge Scott and Eric to divulge it, to help the Alstons deal with this.’ She looked at Steelie. ‘Call Scott. Tell him we don’t need confirmation on whose body they’ve found but if it’s Kate and if the suspect has actually stated that he used a uniform to get her out of her car, then they should give the parents as much consideration as they can. This has to come from them.’

‘You got it,’ Steelie replied, going back to her office.

As soon as Scott and Eric issued the All Points Bulletin for Wayne Spicer’s car, they went down to the holding cells of the Phoenix Police Department.

When they identified themselves to the duty sergeant, he buzzed them into the small room beyond his station. The room had four cells coming off it like satellites and they could see Wayne through the bars of his cell to their left. He was stroking the yellow-painted wall in the direction he believed the morgue lay, with Katie’s body within.

The agents had already agreed to take a tender approach with Wayne, going down his Memory Lane while trying to get him to separate fantasy from reality. Scott set a tape to record and re-cautioned Wayne, then Eric began with an admiring comment on the verisimilitude of the police uniform found in Wayne’s closet. Wayne took the bait and was off, his words like a current of water rushing along a country brook.

He said he had come up with the idea of getting a false police uniform after several people mistook his car, a black Crown Victoria, for a police cruiser and had pulled over to let him overtake when traffic was badly backed up on the busy Los Angeles freeways. After his parents moved to Arizona, Wayne had stayed in LA and bought the patrolman’s uniform from a costume shop. When he wore it, some people waved at him; people who would normally never give him the time of day.

Then he purchased a swirling red light that he rigged up into his car’s electrical system with wire and a control switch, using rudimentary electronics skills he’d gained while working at Radio Shack. But he had never used the red light, or even tried to stop and talk to anyone, until he saw the brown Datsun ahead of him on the 101 Freeway early in December 1999, its hazard lights flashing a distress signal.

He was wearing the police uniform that evening. He had the false badge on the seat next to him. At the last minute, he had decided to pull over and see if someone would actually talk to him. He didn’t care if it was a man or a woman, as long as it wasn’t more than one person. He had thought that more than one person could be dangerous because ‘you never know what sort of people there are out there.’ He had pulled on to the shoulder, cutting off other cars whose drivers he saw glare at him through his rearview mirror, their faces softening when he turned on the swirling red light.

The young woman in the Datsun was beautiful. She smiled and rolled down her window. She barely glanced at his badge and so he had put it in his pocket. He’d asked her, ‘What’s the problem, ma’am?’ just like he’d seen police do on television. She had explained that the car had broken down and she had been hoping a tow truck or a police officer would come along because she didn’t have a car phone or a cell phone. She didn’t give him the pitying expression he was used to seeing at his job or when he tried to talk to people waiting in line at the supermarket.

He had wanted to talk with her more. He asked her to ‘step into’ his vehicle, on the passenger side, so that she’d be safe from the traffic hurtling past. But once she was inside, she looked uncertain. He forgot the ‘cop routine’ and she began to look panicked. She had tried to get out of his car but the door handle on the passenger side had been broken since he bought it. She didn’t know that so she had started screaming and kicking her legs and trying to get the attention of passing cars. He wanted to let her out. When he leaned across her, it was only to roll down the window so he could open the door from the outside handle. But she didn’t know that either. She tried to climb past him, into the backseat.

She had managed to put her thumbs into his eyes and, well, he couldn’t see then, could he? He had fallen against her and the weight of his body had pulled them both down on to the front bench seat, his feet slipping on the loose floor mats and her small body half under him. He couldn’t get any purchase with his hands so had wrenched his elbow up and it connected with some part of her. She was instantly still and quiet.

He didn’t even know what had happened to her. He had tapped her cheek; her head lolled loosely. He tried to make her speak; she wouldn’t talk anymore. The police badge was digging into his thigh and he pushed himself up off the girl. He turned off the red swirling light. Looking at her, he knew he couldn’t leave her there on the freeway by herself. He opened her handbag and found her driver’s license. Next to the photo it said her name was Katherine. He looked over at her, the dark hair, her smooth skin. He knew she was a Katie. A car honked as it passed, its headlights catching his peripheral vision. She would be his Katie, but they would have to leave California. ‘She’s been the only one. She’ll always be the only one.’

At that point, Wayne had looked in the direction of the morgue and refused to say more. The agents left Wayne Spicer in his cell, his big body pressed against the wall in a flat embrace.

As they emerged from the police station, Scott checked his cell phone and saw he had two voicemail messages. He listened to them as he followed Eric over to the Suburban. The first one was from Steelie and didn’t require a return call. The second was from Cliff Lockwood, the Maricopa County medical investigator. He had asked Scott to return his call as a matter of urgency, even if it was after-hours, and had left a cell phone number.

Lockwood sounded somewhat less gravelly now that it was evening. Scott suspected a liqueur had lubricated his throat.

‘I’ve got the parents of your girl flying out here from California ASAP tomorrow. They got a lot of questions I can’t answer yet. But I figured maybe you could. Can you make it over here at eleven hundred hours?’

Scott thought for a moment and looked over at Eric, who was driving them to the Mission Hotel where they would stay the night, due to get on the road for Los Angeles at 7 o’clock the next morning. If he stayed to meet the Alstons, his partner would need to go ahead of him to coordinate the search for Tripper, an endeavor that would be headquartered in their office in LA.

Scott stalled for time by asking a question he already knew the answer to, thanks to Steelie’s message. ‘What kind of questions are we talking about?’

Lockwood sighed. ‘Seems they want to know how their daughter ended up out here in AZ in the hands of some perp. I’ll be telling them about the freezer before they view the body but that’s about the extent of my knowledge.’

Scott briefly considered just instructing Lockwood to tell the Alstons about the LAPD uniform costume. He could hear a television sitcom and canned laughter in the background on Lockwood’s end of the phone. Scott realized he wasn’t even sure about the MI’s bedside manner. It was his duty, not Lockwood’s.

‘I’ll be there.’ He hung up and relayed the details to Eric, then told him about Steelie’s message, which recommended someone inform the Alstons about the circumstances of their daughter’s abduction.

Eric nodded as he pulled the car into the parking space at the hotel. ‘By the way, have you called Jayne since we were at her place and you basically shouted at her?’

Scott opened his door, paused, and then got out. ‘No.’

Eric exhaled as he cut the engine. ‘Don’t let the other guy get her, Scott.’

Scott frowned at him. ‘What other guy?’

‘I don’t know, but there will be another guy eventually. You shouldn’t give up unless you’re ready to see that . . . and go to their wedding.’

‘Who said I was giving up?’ Scott said as he closed the door.