Freezing Read online

  ‘Where’s the rest of Mrs Patterson, huh, Spicer? I’m sure her family would like to know. Where’d you put the rest of them, the other girls?’

  Wayne looked panicked for a moment, then used the hem of his shirt to wipe his face all over. ‘Uh . . . I need a break.’

  Scott rolled his eyes toward the ceiling.

  ‘I need a break,’ repeated Wayne. ‘I need to go to the bathroom.’ He tried to smile. ‘Can I get something to eat, too?’

  ‘OK,’ replied Eric.

  Wayne looked up at him gratefully.

  ‘Someone will bring you lunch and take you to use the head.’

  The agents left the room and ushered in the police officer through the doorway.

  ‘You rattled him,’ said Eric.

  ‘Let’s get on to the ME; see if she’s got a hit off of those teeth yet. If the woman in his freezer is from Georgia, this case will have a bow on it.’

  But Scott’s call to Dr Bodell was re-routed as soon as he identified himself. She had directed the receptionist to put the agent through to Cliff Lockwood, one of three medical investigators in the Medical Examiner’s Office. Scott already knew that two of them were former detectives and one was a forensic anthropologist turned investigator. They went to scenes of all unattended deaths, tracked down identifying material on every Jane and John Doe in Maricopa County, and notified next-of-kin for any body processed where the family was not already aware of death.

  Cliff Lockwood was one of the former detectives and had been at the ME’s Office since – according to Dr Bodell – the year dot. When he came on the line, his voice was as gravelly as that of a life-long smoker.

  ‘Yeah, we got an ID on your girl already.’ Lockwood broke off to cough and brought up a loogie that Scott could hear being spat out somewhere.

  ‘I’m ready,’ he replied impatiently, raising his voice over Lockwood’s hacking.

  ‘You’ve got a Katherine Ruth Alston. That’s Alpha, Lima, Sierra, Tango, Oscar, November.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Date of birth: one niner of ’seventy-nine. Caucasian. Five-six, one-twenty-five. Brown and brown. Missing from Los Angeles, California on five-twelve of ’ninety-nine.’

  Scott immediately started calculating. Her disappearance pre-dated the cases of the missing prostitutes in Atlanta. Had she been Spicer’s first kill and he had kept her body as a prize? ‘NCIC number?’

  ‘Mike-one-niner-seven-seven-three-one-niner-five-three.’

  ‘What were her circs?’

  ‘Suspicious missing – abduction. She was an adult, car found on a freeway, no sign of a struggle. A student reported missing by her parents. I’ll be making contact today.’

  ‘Which freeway?’

  ‘Says the One-oh-one. One more thing, Houston. We ID’d her through dental records on NCIC and there’s a note on the file that they didn’t come direct from a doc. Some shop out your way was involved. An Agency Thirty-two One. You know it?’

  ‘You could say that.’

  ‘What the hell do they do?’

  ‘Forensic profiles of mispers.’

  Lockwood let out a low whistle and said, ‘Leave it to you Californians to find a niche market. They been around long?’

  ‘No, but you’ll see their stuff on NCIC, usually related to cold cases. I’ll bet your ME’s have heard of them.’

  As soon as Scott was off the call, he picked up another voicemail message from Jayne. He first relayed the Alston identification details to Eric and then Jayne’s description of the results of Jeppsen’s search of the Agency 32/1 offices.

  ‘Do they have any idea what the bug’s about?’ Eric asked.

  ‘I don’t know. But it’s gotta be one of their own cases.’

  ‘Didn’t you give Jayne the Patterson ID on the Agency’s landline?’

  ‘Yeah but I’m not concerned about someone overhearing that. It wouldn’t mean anything to an outsider.’

  ‘We can take a minute for you to call her now.’

  ‘No.’ Scott looked at his partner. ‘What I want is to get in there with our new ammunition against Spicer.’

  ‘Fine. Let’s wrap him up.’

  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 r
oom. 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.’