by James Carol
‘Watch what you’re saying. This is my wife you’re talking about.’
‘What’s interesting about that statement is that you haven’t refuted what I said.’
Sobek stared and said nothing.
‘If you see something you want, you’ve got to have it, right? Whatever it takes. Planes, cars, houses. Women. So how did you frame him? If I were in your position, I’d make it look as though he was having an affair, and then I’d arrange it so that Isabella found out.’
‘You’re wrong.’
Winter noted the slight tightening of his jaw. It was the tiniest of tells, but a tell nonetheless.
‘There was a white van parked near the entrance to the cemetery. I’m assuming that it has something to do with you. How many people have you hired to watch the cemetery?’
Sobek’s jaw tightened again. Tiny twitches of the muscles. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his face. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Serial killers like to visit their victims’ graves,’ Winter said. ‘It gives them an opportunity to relive the crimes. The anniversary of the murder is the optimal time for these visits because emotions are that much higher. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? This has nothing to do with honouring the memory of your wife, and everything to do with drawing the killer out. Seeing you at the gravesite would really give those memories an extra charge.’ He paused a moment, then added, ‘Yesterday we agreed to play straight with one another. It’s time to fess up.’
For a moment Sobek said nothing. This silence was different, though. It was a pause for breath rather than an evasion. He sipped some coffee and looked at the stone angel guarding his wife’s grave. ‘There are private investigators watching all of the cemetery entrances. I’ve also got investigators watching the cemeteries where Alicia Kirchner and Lian Hammond are buried.’
‘And what happens if the killer turns up?’
Sobek smiled. ‘If that happens I’ll do my civic duty and make a citizen’s arrest, and then I’ll hand him over to the police.’
‘What happens if he resists arrest?’
‘Then I will match his resistance with whatever force I deem necessary.’
‘And whose face do you see when you’re using the punching bag in your gym?’
‘I can control my emotions.’
‘Of that I have no doubt. What I would question is how much you might want to control them.’
Sobek said nothing.
‘You know,’ Winter went on, ‘the most helpful thing you could do right now is keep out of the way and let everyone do their jobs. The last thing this investigation needs is a vigilante running amok.’
‘That sounds like good advice,’ Sobek replied sarcastically. ‘I’ll take it on advisement.’
Winter placed his cup on the ground and stood up to leave. ‘Thanks for the coffee.’
‘I’m expecting regular updates throughout the course of the day.’
‘I’m sure that Anderton will be happy to provide them for you.’
Winter walked away without looking back. His phone buzzed when he was in sight of the main gates. He took it out. The ten voicemails from Anderton covered the time he’d been with Sobek. The grave must have been in a dead spot. Literally and figuratively. Winter played the first message. The signal kept breaking up but he was able to hear enough.
Another bomb . . .
A kid . . . ten years old . . .
Call me now.
He found Anderton’s number and connected the call.
Then he started running.
18
There were four news trucks already on Spencer Avenue, technicians and reporters buzzing around them. The largest was black with Global BC’s logo on the sides. Charlotte Delaney was standing beside it, giving orders, arms jerking to emphasise whatever point she was making. She was smaller than Winter remembered, as though being away from the studio had somehow shrunk her.
Barriers blocked off the road on the other side of the news trucks, and beyond that police vehicles were parked nose to tail. Cruisers, vans, SUVs. The house was twenty yards further on. It was cosy looking, with crimson cladding and a tidy tree-lined front yard. Two bedrooms, probably. Certainly no more. According to Anderton, this was where Myra Hooper had lived with her ten-year-old son, Cody. It was Cody who detonated the bomb. Myra and her husband were separated.
There were ten cops in uniform on the far side of the barrier, and eight plainclothes detectives. Freeman would already be in the house. He’d want a ringside seat. For now there was only a handful of people watching, neighbours for the most part, curiosity getting the better of them. As the news spread, the crowd would grow.
Winter settled up with the cab driver, gave him a healthy tip for breaking the speed limit, then got out. He wasted no time getting into Anderton’s Mercedes. Delaney’s attention was focussed on what was happening on the other side of the barriers, but she could turn around at any moment. The last thing he wanted was to talk to her. It was early days. Information would be scarce and she’d be looking for anything she could get hold of to pad out the story. For a moment he gazed out of the windshield, hypnotised by the scene. Like ants in an ant farm, he thought, everyone scurrying around and keeping busy.
‘We didn’t save her,’ he said, breaking the silence.
‘You can’t blame yourself for what happened.’
‘I don’t. Did I build the bomb? Did I tape it to anyone’s chest?’
‘Yeah, well, I do feel guilty. I can’t help feeling that I could have done more. It’s like this guy’s been getting the better of me for the past three years.’
‘Maybe so, but you need to park that guilt. It isn’t helping.’
‘I guess. At least you were wrong about the next victim being a kid.’
‘And for once I have no problem with being wrong.’
‘So what happened? Did he fit the bomb with a trip switch?’
Winter shook his head. ‘I’m certain there was no trip switch. The killer used Cody as leverage. Eight words is all it would have taken. Do what I say or the boy dies. The bond between a mother and her child is sacred. It’s the strongest there is. Put in that situation, most mothers would sacrifice themselves without a second thought. There is a bright side, though.’
‘There is?’
‘This investigation has just turned hot again. That means a whole load of new information will come to light. Information that we didn’t have yesterday. To start with, he decided to strike in the morning this year. Then there’s the fact that he used Cody to trigger the bomb rather than the husband. So why change his MO?’
‘He used Cody because Myra and her husband were separated.’
‘Okay, but why not target someone who is married?’
Anderton shrugged. ‘Good question.’
Winter watched the cops milling around outside the crime scene for a moment. ‘We need to get into the house. That’s where we’ll find answers.’
‘And how do we do that?’
‘We could march up to the front door and demand to be let in. You’ve got thirty years of experience as a homicide cop under your belt, and I’ve been around the block a few times. They’ll welcome us in with open arms.’
Anderton almost smiled. ‘I don’t think that Freeman will see it like that.’
Winter looked at the house, and then over toward the news trucks. Delaney was as animated as ever. It was like she’d been mainlining caffeine.
‘I’ve got an idea. Follow my lead.’
He got out of the car and walked over to the Global BC news truck. Anderton was right behind him. Delaney noticed them when they were ten yards away. She waved a cameraman in behind her and came over to meet them.
‘Mr Winter, it’s so good to see you again.’ She glanced at Anderton. ‘Laura.’
‘Charlotte,’ Anderton replied.
‘No hard feelings about the interview, then?’ Winter said.
‘Of course not,’ Del
aney replied. ‘It was a good interview. I haven’t had that much fun in a long time.’
‘How would you like an exclusive?’
‘I’m listening.’
‘First we need to talk. Off the record. That means the camera is switched off and pointing away from me.’
Delaney smiled then turned and spoke to the cameraman. He lowered his camera and took a step back. The reporters and technicians hovering around the other trucks were starting to pay attention. They were looking and pointing and speculating.
‘We’re now off the record,’ she said.
‘We spent last night going over the evidence again, and we noticed something that was missed. Something that points us toward the killer.’
‘What?’
‘Not so fast. We need to talk to Freeman and tell him what we’ve found. Then we’ll be back to talk to you.’
‘It would save time if you talked to me now.’
‘Nice try.’
‘I’ve got to ask, why are you doing this?’
‘I thought that would be self-explanatory. Freeman will try to claim the credit for himself. I don’t want that to happen.’
The explanation seemed to resonate with Delaney. She smirked like they were in this together. They weren’t.
‘I think the best place for the interview would be over there by the barrier,’ Winter said. ‘Having the house and all those cops in the background would provide a suitably dramatic background, don’t you think?’
‘I agree. And I’m still thinking that we should do the interview right now.’
‘Of course you are.’
‘Come on, you can’t leave me hanging like this. At least give me a hint of what you’ve got.’
‘We’ll be back in five minutes. Be ready.’
Without another word, Winter headed for the barriers, Anderton at his side. ‘Okay, the next part is down to you,’ he whispered. ‘This is the tough bit. We need to get through the front door of the house.’
‘Easy. All we do is act like we’re meant to be there.’
They ducked around the barrier, but only managed four steps before being challenged. The uniformed cop doing the challenging looked like a high-school student.
‘You shouldn’t be here,’ he called out. He started walking on an intercept course, stopping when he was a couple of yards away. Anderton kept going and stopped directly in front of him. She was pushing right up into his personal space, holding her ground. The kid took a step back. ‘What’s your name?’ she demanded.
‘Didn’t you hear what I said? You shouldn’t be back here.’
‘What’s your name?’
‘Matthews,’ the kid stuttered.
‘Officer Matthews, we’re here on Detective Inspector Freeman’s request. Now, we can go back to our car and call to tell him that you wouldn’t let us through, but I can’t see that one playing out too well. I take it you’ve heard his little speech about being part of the problem or part of the solution. How do you think he’s going to react to someone who’s adding to his problems?’
Winter almost felt sorry for the kid. His cheeks had gone pink and he didn’t know where to look. Before he could say anything, Anderton put her fingers in her mouth and let out a long sharp whistle that made everyone in a twenty-yard radius stop and look.
‘Jefferies!’ she yelled out. ‘Come here!’
A detective who’d been standing near the CSI truck started toward them. He was a good-looking black guy in a neat grey suit. Age-wise he was somewhere north of forty. Even at a distance Winter could sense the been-there-done-it vibe. Jefferies stopped in front of Anderton. His smile was wide, warm and genuine. He had neat, white, even teeth.
‘You just can’t keep away, can you?’
‘I missed your ugly face too much.’
The smile disappeared, the eyes narrowed. ‘With all due respect, shouldn’t you be on the other side of the barrier?’
‘Actually, I’m hoping you can help with that. I was just telling Constable Matthews here that we’ve got some information for Freeman. Urgent, time-sensitive information.’
‘I don’t know, Anderton. As you can imagine, he’s pretty busy right now.’
‘We met with him last night. He wanted to hear from us if we had anything to share. We’ve got something to share.’
Jefferies widened his gaze to include Winter. ‘You’re that guy who did the interview.’
‘Guilty as charged.’
‘The clip’s had more than fifty thousand views on YouTube. “FBI Guy Loses His Shit”, it’s called. I tell you, it made me smile. So, this is what you do, then? Chase serial killers?’
‘It’s what I do.’
‘Well, this is my first, and all I can say is that it’s a whole new ball game. Give me a domestic homicide any day, or a drive-by shooting. At least there’s a motive you can understand. Wife cheats, husband shoots her dead. Dealer cheats someone he shouldn’t and winds up dead. That’s where the story ends.’ Jefferies turned back to Anderton. ‘Here’s an idea. Why not tell me what you’ve got and I’ll pass the information on to Freeman.’
‘So you can take all the credit? I think I’ll pass. Look, all we need is five minutes.’ When Jefferies didn’t respond she added, ‘Come on, if this wasn’t important I wouldn’t be asking.’
Jefferies went quiet for a second, then nodded. ‘Okay, let’s do this before I change my mind.’
He turned and started walking. Winter and Anderton fell in line behind him. Matthews was standing off to one side, out of his depth and happy to let the grownups make the big decisions. Jefferies made them wait at the kerb while he went inside the house to find Freeman. Winter kept getting strange looks from the people milling around outside the house. These were different from the looks he usually got. It made him wonder who else had seen the interview. He was beginning to wonder who hadn’t seen it.
This was another reason he avoided talking to the media. Unwanted attention made him uncomfortable. Why did people chase fame? It made no sense. He could see Delaney getting organised on the public side of the barrier. The woman was a moth who would bash herself up against the limelight until her dying breath. Why? What was missing from her life? He just didn’t get it.
It was another four minutes before Freeman and Jefferies appeared. Freeman was dressed from head to toe in a white forensic suit. He removed his face mask and let it dangle around his neck, then he pulled down the hood and walked over. Even though his hair was ruffled from the hood he would still have looked great on TV.
‘You have one minute,’ he said.
‘I need to see the crime scene,’ Winter told him.
‘Goodbye.’ Freeman turned to leave.
‘Let me take a look. There’s going to be something there that your people will miss. I guarantee it.’
Freeman turned back. There was anger in his face, impatience in his stance. ‘Are you saying that my people are incompetent?’
‘No, what I’m saying is that this is my specialty. You guys have got no experience of dealing with serial killers. I do. What’s more, I’m happy to be used and abused. In fact, I welcome it. Anything to catch this guy.’
‘Read my lips: it’s not going to happen.’
Winter motioned to where Delaney was waiting by the barrier. ‘I’ve promised Ms Delaney an interview. She’s expecting an exclusive on how we’ve managed to uncover some new information that’s going to lead you guys straight to the killer’s door. That’s why she’s standing there salivating like one of Pavlov’s dogs.’
‘Except that hasn’t happened, has it? There is no miracle breakthrough.’
‘Which is why I’m going to talk about the way you’re screwing up this investigation. You saw what happened to Anderton. It wasn’t pretty. Now put yourself in her shoes.’
‘Is that supposed to be a threat?’
‘There’s no supposing about it.’
‘I want you to leave. If you don’t go voluntarily, I’ll have you escorted.’
Freeman stared over at Delaney while he worked through his options. Nobody liked to be forced into a corner, particularly when they were supposed to be in charge. He took a deep breath and forced out a sigh. His face was tight and he looked more pissed than ever.
‘Okay, you can see the crime scene, but Jefferies will be babysitting you the whole time.’ He turned to Jefferies. ‘Do you understand? Don’t let him out of your sight. Not for a second.’
‘Yes, sir.’
He turned to Anderton. ‘You don’t get to go anywhere near the house. Do you understand?’
‘That’s fine with me, Peter.’
He stared for a second longer, then turned back to Winter. ‘Anything you discover, you share. Do you understand?’
‘That goes without saying.’
Freeman stomped off toward the house, pulling the hood and the mask back into place as he walked. Winter watched him go, considering the possible repercussions, then deciding he didn’t care. All that mattered was that he’d just got his hands on that elusive Golden Ticket.
19
The Tyvek suit was too big and rustled whenever Winter moved. His breath was hot and moist from being bounced back by the mask. Jefferies was dressed the same and looked just as uncomfortable. Winter followed him up the path to the house and stopped at the front door. There was no evidence of a break-in, which was consistent with the earlier murders. According to one of Anderton’s contacts, the current theory was that the killer had knocked on the door sometime yesterday evening, and the victim had opened it and let them in. This wasn’t so far-fetched, not if the victims had known the killer. If that was the case then it was good news. The point where their lives had intersected hadn’t been found yet, but it would.
Even if the victim hadn’t known the killer, the theory might still hold. The key case was Ted Bundy. He hadn’t charmed his way into his victims’ homes, but he had charmed them into the back of his van by faking a broken arm. The point was that serial killers could be incredibly persuasive. This killer was profiling as being on the small side of average, so he wouldn’t be physically intimidating. It wouldn’t be too difficult for him to come up with a plausible sob story. And maybe he didn’t need one. Maybe he posed as a delivery driver or a pollster, or maybe he wore a cop uniform. Because the terrifying truth was that most people were more than happy to open their door to a complete stranger.
