Jayne and Steelie - 01 - Freezing (16 page)

Scott knew exactly what Eric was doing and it had worked: he wanted to punch him. His blood was flowing again, the bitter taste gone.

He exchanged an amused look with his partner and said, ‘Get your hand off my shoulder.'

Steelie stood next to Jayne in the front doorway, watching Scott and Eric's flashlight beams moving around the garden as they checked the exterior of Jayne's apartment. They came closer to the building and then went under the stairs that led to the front door. Jayne turned back inside and dropped on to the sofa. Then she kicked off her shoes and turned to lie down.

Steelie came to perch on the arm of the sofa. She tried to see Jayne's expression but her hair was obscuring her face. Steelie pushed it back from her forehead and noticed Jayne's freckles were standing out. Usually they were almost invisible against her skin but she was decidedly pale this evening. Steelie pulled up her shirtsleeve and pressed the inside of her wrist to her friend's forehead. ‘You're warm. How do you feel?'

‘Kind of cold.'

‘Hm. I think you need a hot shower and a hot drink.'

‘My shower's probably bugged.'

‘They said the place is clean.'

‘Feels dirty.'

Steelie recognized the stubborn tone and got up. She went to the kitchen, put on the electric kettle, and started rummaging in the cupboard that held tea and coffee. She pulled a few things out and straightened up just as Scott and Eric walked in through the front door. Eric was using a surgical glove to hold a small box. He came over to the kitchen while Scott walked to the living room and sat on the sofa next to Jayne.

Eric put the item on the counter, resting it on another glove.

‘What is that?' Steelie was curious.

‘A radio frequency transmitter. It's a type of wiretap.' He was keeping his voice low.

‘Where was it? I mean, is it something to do with Jayne?'

He nodded. ‘It was on the exterior part of her phone line.'

‘Jesus. But who . . .'

He shrugged and looked over to the living room. Steelie followed his gaze and saw that Jayne had sat up. She was shaking her head, as though responding in the negative to something Scott was saying.

Eric said, ‘He'll be asking her some questions about her phone before we say anything about the tap. Listen, you said she stayed with you last night? Can you keep her over there for a couple more days?'

The kettle's on/off switch popped up and Steelie turned to pick it up. ‘Yeah, I can, but she's already complaining about the sofa bed.' She emptied packets of powder into four mugs, then poured water over them. She pulled out a drawer to find a small whisk, which she used to vigorously stir the drinks.

She pushed a mug toward him and indicated the wiretap. ‘How serious is this?'

‘I don't know but we're in “better safe than sorry” territory.' He took a sip of the steaming, frothy drink. ‘What the hell is this?'

‘Matcha au lait.'

He just raised his eyebrows, apparently expecting further explanation.

‘Instant green tea with milk. Chinese,' Steelie said.

‘Got anything stronger?'

‘Jayne doesn't drink so, no, we don't got anything stronger.'

She took a sip from her own mug and made exaggerated noises of satisfaction. ‘Think Scott'll dig it?'

‘I think you'll be lucky if he put the safety back on his gun. That'll buy you some time to get away.'

They carried the drinks to the living room, leaving the transmitter on the counter. Jayne looked like she'd been in a wind tunnel, hair pushed this way and that, her eyes watery. One of Scott's sleeves was rolled up, the other down, and he looked like he'd come in contact with some dust.
Same wind tunnel
, Steelie thought.

‘So, what's your professional opinion?' Steelie asked.

Eric put his mug down. ‘We clearly found a place where a wire could have been inserted into the floor of the apartment. That's not to say a wire
was
inserted there, but I gotta say that the location makes it likely. It's common practice to install a listening or video device in a threshold segment because it can be easy to access without entering the premises.'

Jayne covered her face with both hands.

Scott compressed his lips and shook his head at Eric, who got the message and rushed on. ‘As I said, this is only an indication. There may never have been any device. But the reason I mentioned video is that we found a tap on the phone line—'

Jayne splayed her fingers so she could see Eric with one eye.

He spread his hands. ‘All I'm saying is that whoever put on the tap could already hear you. No need for another audio bug in the threshold, which just leaves video.'

‘Sounds like Big Brother to me,' Steelie said, crossing her arms. ‘How do we know it's not some other arm of your office that put this in?'

Scott sounded impatient. ‘Why, because that racketeering thing Jayne's been developing has finally taken off?' He shook his head. ‘Look, this stuff wasn't Government and it wasn't sophisticated. The person who did it had some knowledge but no experience.' He turned to Jayne. ‘Do you use your landline for work-related calls?'

She dropped her hands but looked unhappy. ‘No. I mean, occasionally Steelie and I might mention something while on the phone.'

‘How many people have the number? Are you listed?'

‘I'm listed. Last name, first initial.' She paused. ‘What are you getting at?'

‘Well, one interpretation of what we've found is that the person who planted this stuff may know you but not well enough to get invited in. Doesn't stop him from wanting to get closer to you and maybe he doesn't mean any harm. You'd probably never even notice the guy. And he'd have to be nearby to pick up the low signal this transmitter would've given out. Who lives downstairs?'

Jayne answered. ‘Alex, but you're not seriously suggesting—'

‘How well do you know him?'

‘Like, Hi/Bye.'

‘What does he do? Do you know?'

Jayne stood up and went to look out the sliding door. ‘Something to do with computers . . .'

Scott and Eric exchanged a glance.

Steelie noticed it. ‘This is crazy!'

Eric put his hands out in a calming gesture. ‘You won't know what it is until you get more information. And until you do, Jayne, you might want to stay somewhere else.' He twisted to look at her. ‘Your place is fine; we've checked everything and disabled the tap outside but that could also draw him back, to see why his transmitter's not transmitting. And you should have what we found tonight evaluated by professionals.'

He faced Steelie again. ‘Get the Agency premises checked, including your phones, in case this isn't just a Peeping Tom.' He pulled his BlackBerry from a shirt pocket. ‘I'll give you some names of people. Reputable sweeping companies, ex-Bureau guys. Tell 'em we told you to call.'

Steelie eyed him. ‘What, so they'll charge us double?'

Jayne opened the sliding door and stepped on to the deck. Her table looked bereft without its white cloth. The tea light holders' glassy surfaces were dulled by dried wax drips. She walked to the railing and looked down into the driveway. Her neighbor's car wasn't parked in its spot. She was trying to recall what kind of car he drove – a white Subaru, she thought – when she realized that Scott had joined her.

He said, ‘Steelie thinks you should go to your mother's until you know what's going on.'

She looked at him in exasperation. ‘But why can't I just go to Steelie's?'

‘Because she'll be at your mother's.'

She saw his mouth twitch and she smiled reflexively. The movement broke the surface tension that had kept her face taut since she'd hissed at him in the bedroom.

And then he was walking away from her, moving on, pushing through, going forward.

DAYS FIVE AND SIX

Saturday and Sunday

FOURTEEN

S
cott caught the mayonnaise just in time as it squirted out the bottom of the sandwich. He looked to see how his partner was doing. Eric had the Suburban's steering wheel in one hand and his sandwich in the other. On his first bite, barbeque sauce dripped out in a fat droplet. Part landed on his pant leg and part on the fabric seat, but, to his credit, the vehicle's speed remained steady as it hurtled east along Interstate 10 towards Arizona.

‘Shit,' Eric mumbled while he chewed, then noticed Scott. ‘What's so funny? Turner's not going to be laughing when you bring his vehicle back looking like a minivan after a trip to Disneyland.'

‘I got the impression from Turner that he couldn't care less if we brought it back at all, so long as we secured a suspect.'

He leaned across and balanced a paper napkin on Eric's thigh. ‘I'm not wiping it up, even if you ask me nice.' But he forgot to keep an eye on his own food and mayo got on his shirt. ‘Dammit.'

Eric looked pleased. ‘Did Turner get a call from Franks?'

‘He didn't say as much.'

‘But he was concerned we were on a wild-goose chase?'

Scott nodded as he chewed.

‘Did he actually use those words?'

‘No, but you know Craig Turner. He can be a diplomat. A nice quality in a boss.'

‘For a change. Man, when I think about how Franks held us back on this case in Atlanta! Who knows how many leads we missed.'

‘It's not like we stopped following leads.'

‘Yeah, but we didn't have the resources to do proper surveillance to generate the high quality leads. You know we were slowed down by only getting the leads the streetwalkers could
remember
to give us. We had a short list of suspects—'

‘Hey, you don't have to remind me.'

‘And thanks to SSA Franks, we couldn't do what was needed to rule 'em in or out. And now we're tracking the same perp out here. He's probably killed again, too.'

Scott balled up his napkin, put it in a paper bag, then balled that up and threw it in the footwell. ‘We don't know that it's the same guy. Our perp's stomping grounds are in Atlanta. Right now, we're in . . .' He looked out the window just as they passed the sign for the Arizona State Line. ‘We're fifteen miles west of Quartzsite. What's our perp doing in Arizona?'

‘I don't know,' Eric admitted. ‘But it's the same guy. Maybe he wanted to take a road trip. He took the northern route, killed Patterson in Oregon on the way down south, got rear-ended in LA—'

‘The van was going north when it was hit, Eric.'

‘So he was lost. He gets back on the road and goes to Arizona to get some sun. Or, wait . . . he could be from Arizona originally and it was time to come home. Things getting too hot in Georgia the past few months. I mean, you were on the news and in the paper, what, every couple of weeks for a while? Appealing to the public, “We're looking for a van that might be driven by a man abducting women in Atlanta.”
I'd
get out of town if I had you on my tail.' Eric put the last of the sandwich in his mouth and held out the trash to Scott. ‘You still think it's the same guy, right?'

‘Yeah. But I'll tell you what I didn't tell Turner. I think it's the same guy because I want it to be him. It's not based solely on the evidence because the evidence isn't strong enough to say it is our guy. It's just a perp with a Georgia license plate hauling female body parts around.'

‘What
did
you tell Turner?'

‘I just told him there was no need to hand off to Phoenix, wasting time bringing them up to speed. At the very least, we'll get forensics that relate to the LA body parts and we'll get the van's owner, who's either the perp or someone who's helping him. We can tie up the LA end of the case no matter what.'

‘And Turner doesn't care about what happened with us in Georgia?'

‘I barely mentioned Georgia. I mean, if Franks
has
called him from Atlanta, then Turner already knows that when it comes to that case, I'm . . . what did Angie say Franks called me?'

‘An ego-driven maverick who can't see the forest for the trees.'

‘Right.' Scott looked at the instrument panel. ‘Watch your speed, Ramos.'

Eric immediately glanced at the speedometer and eased up on the accelerator pedal. ‘It's thinking about Franks that does that to me.'

‘Remember, he's our
old
boss.' Scott reclined his seat and closed his eyes.

‘Not if he's calling Turner with bedtime stories,' Eric replied, an edge to his voice.

‘Turner's too smart for that kind of game. And if you're going to be thinking about Franks while I'm getting some shut-eye, put it on cruise control.'

Eric focused on the road. It was still another couple of hours to Mesa, so he turned the radio on with the volume low. He'd just missed the news.

An hour later, Scott woke suddenly and then oriented himself. He brought his seatback up and cleared his throat. ‘How far out are we?'

‘Thirty miles.'

‘You need to switch?'

‘No, I'll take us to the location and get in some rest when we change vehicles.'

Scott drank from a bottle of water, then pulled a file folder from the seat behind them. ‘You get a chance to look at this stuff from Phoenix PD before we left?'

Eric shook his head. ‘Not in any detail. The D who I spoke with, Czuzak, is up to her neck on a drug bust so she sent a couple of rookies to babysit the van.'

‘She sure the van's associated with that address?' Scott was pulling papers out of the file and putting them in some kind of order.

‘Well, it's parked in front of that address. The rookies have seen one man emerge from the van and go into that address but not by the front door. He went down the side. Could be a side entrance, could be nothing. Could be a shortcut to a neighbor's.'