Inmate 1577

23

They pulled up behind an unmarked Ford Crown Victoria. It was the same one in which Vail had spent about ten days driving around Napa while working the Crush Killer case with Dixon.

The American Canyon neighborhood was at the southernmost tip of Napa County, a thirty-five-minute drive from the last crime scene. A bedroom community of both San Francisco and the heralded wine country, American Canyon was a solid middle- to upper-middle-class neighborhood incorporated in the early nineties.

The house was a production home in a residential area. It looked like it had been treated to a fresh coat of paint recently and the front garden appeared to be similarly maintained. Vail greeted the officer at the front door and led Burden and Friedberg into the house. Lights were on in the hallway, and Vail could hear voices in a room off to her right.

As she approached, Roxxann Dixon stepped into the corridor. “Karen,” she said with a wide grin.

The two women embraced, and then Vail introduced her to Burden.

“Inspector Friedberg,” Dixon said. “How’s the city treating you?”

“Not so good these days. These murders are pretty brutal. But I don’t have to tell you that.”

A man emerged from the bedroom.

“Brix,” Vail said. “Good to see you.”

“Who woulda thought? I figured when you left Napa three months ago, we were finally rid of you.”

“Guess I’m like that piece of chewing gum on the bottom of your shoe.”

They all enjoyed a knowing chuckle.

“Detective Lieutenant Redmond Brix,” Vail said, “Inspectors Lance Burden and Robert Friedberg-who helped us out with the Crush Killer case, over by Battery Spencer.”

“Right, right,” Brix said as he and the crew exchanged handshakes.

“So what’re you doing here, Roxx?” Vail asked. “Did your transfer go through?”

“I gave it a little push,” Brix said. “Guess it was more like a shove. It took the sheriff a little while to free up the cash for another detective, but I told him he couldn’t afford to miss out on Roxxann.”

“Came through last week,” Dixon said.

“Hell of a first case,” Vail said.

Dixon brushed back her blonde hair. “No shit. What you described on the phone…it was dead-on. No pun intended.”

“Let’s take a look,” Burden said.

They walked into the sizable master bedroom, where a CSI was bent over a body that lay supine. He snapped a photo, straightened up, and then shot Vail a less than friendly look.

Matthew Aaron. Not a pleasant memory from her time in the wine country.

“Where’s that key?” Vail asked.

Aaron reached into his kit and removed a clear evidence bag. It was properly identified and tagged.

Burden took it and held it up so he and Friedberg could get a closer look.

“We’ve got two others like this,” Friedberg said. “Well, one in our possession and one on the way.”

“On the way from where?” Dixon asked.

Vail explained the 1982 Edgar Newhall murder. “We don’t know enough yet to say if the cases are related, but it sure looks that way.”

Burden motioned to the woman in front of him. She displayed nearly identical burn marks, the same gruesome vaginal and anal injuries, and bruising around the head. “What do we know about this vic? I assume her name’s Rucker?”

“Cynthia Rucker,” Dixon said. “When I saw what we had here, I called Redd. He told me to call Karen. The sheriff went through the FBI’s National Academy training, so they felt it was best to find out if we were dealing with a psychosexual killer.”

“Kudos to all of you,” Vail said. “We’re getting away from using that term, but that is what we’re dealing with here. And that’s not all. There’s a lot more to this case. I’m not sure what, just yet, but we’re dealing with a very volatile and unstable killer.”

“Great,” Brix said.

Vail moved around the bed and examined Cynthia’s head wounds. “Thing is, his recent murders-if he did the one in ’82-have been confined to San Francisco. In fact, her husband, Harlan, is in the city. In case you were wondering.”

“We were,” Dixon said. “Any chance we can get a sit-down with him? Obviously, we’ve got a lot of questions.”

“He’s tied to a telephone pole,” Vail said. “I don’t think your sit-down would be too fruitful.”

Dixon and Brix shared a look.

“Karen thinks there’s geographic significance to the killer’s choice of victims,” Friedberg said.

“Yeah.” Vail shifted her feet. “About that. I’m not so sure. This one kind of throws a monkey wrench into that theory.” She thought a moment. “But maybe not.”

“Worth checking into?” Burden asked.

Vail shrugged. “Yeah. But-this case is very unusual to begin with. Married couples being offed is odd enough-but he’s transporting the males and leaving them, in some cases, miles away. To my memory, none of that’s ever been done before. I can turn this over for a geographic profile, but it’s going to make for a challenging analysis.”

“I’m done here,” Matt Aaron said, snapping his kit closed.

“The contact at SFPD is Rex Jackson,” Vail said. “Can you make sure he gets copies of everything you-”

“I know the procedure, Agent Vail.” He rose and faced her, standing a little closer than what would normally be considered a comfortable distance. “You know, it sure was nice not having you around. I already have a few bosses. Don’t need someone like you looking over my shoulder.”

Dixon placed a hand on Vail’s forearm. Calming her. Vail didn’t feel calm. But she forced a smile and said, “You must be really, really good on all the other cases you handle in Napa County. Because from what I’ve seen on the two you handled while I was here, your professionalism left a lot to be desired.”

Aaron dropped his kit. “I’ve had-”

“Okay,” Brix said, shoving his arm in front of his criminalist. “That’s enough. Matt, if you’re done here, you can go.” He waited for Aaron to react.

He did-he bent down and picked up his case, then threw Vail a stern look.

“I’d appreciate if you two weren’t like two cats in heat all the time,” Brix said. “Learn to get along. We’re on the same goddamn side.”

Aaron frowned at Brix, then pushed his way out of the room, through the crowd of detectives.

“He does have a point,” Brix said.

Vail looked at him. “And what point is that?”

“Things have been a lot more quiet in town since you left.”

“Don’t you remember my nickname?”

“The serial killer magnet,” Dixon said with a grin.

Burden shook his head. “Oh, that’s fucking great. Couldn’t you have told us that sooner? I knew I should’ve insisted on Safarik.”

“What’s your procedure?” Dixon asked. “You’ve obviously got another jurisdiction involved. I’d like to be part of what’s going down on your end, help solve this thing together. Does SFPD set up major crimes task forces?”

“Only for drug and gang-related crimes,” Burden said.

Vail spread her hands, palm up. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t work together. Meet in a room, either at Homicide or somewhere else. Not a task force-”

“But a task force,” Dixon said.

“Exactly.”

Burden shook his head. “The lieutenant won’t be happy.”

“We can have meetings, exchange info, that sort of thing,” Friedberg said. “As long as it doesn’t hit his bottom line, if we don’t ask for money or staff support, any shit like that, I think we’ll be fine. If we’re making progress, who’s gonna complain?”

“And if we don’t get results?” Burden asked.

Friedberg chuckled. “Then we deserve whatever heat the lieutenant sends our way.”