As if promising this to himself, he ran his hand along the scar on his face and began to quietly cry.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Avery was studying the two letters that had come in while starting her morning with a proper cup of coffee. It was like drinking champagne compared to the gruel at the hospital. She did her best to focus, to put the trauma of the last twenty-four hours behind her. While her heart was still at the hospital with Ramirez, she also had a job to do. As she looked at the letters, rereading them over and over again for some sort of clue, a realization came to her.
The man I chased at the reservoir…it was definitely the killer. He wasn’t expecting anyone to find him there. There has been no note to tease the cops or to boast about what he had done to Carolyn Rodgers. That’s probably because my showing up at the reservoir threw him off of his game. And that could also mean he’s going to act faster now—and that means the chances of him screwing up are much greater.
Or maybe using Carolyn was a letter of sorts in and of itself, she thought.
On the heels of that was the last comment Howard Randall had made: For a man capable of these sorts of acts, I can guarantee you it’s more than just some intangible symbolism with the cold…
While she tried to decipher all of this, she called up Finley to see if she had missed any details and updates while she had blessedly gotten some rest. He seemed pleased to hear from her but she could also tell that he was verbally dancing around the topic of Ramirez.
“Well,” Finley said, “the media is officially dubbing this guy the Ice Killer.”
“That’s pleasant,” Avery said.
“Anyway… Rustin George is still in a holding cell. He’ll be there for a while. He admitted some nasty stuff, bringing up crimes he had not been tried for in the past. If he’s not our killer, he’ll probably end up doing time one way or the other for what he did to Ramirez, of course.”
“How about the picture we got from the library?” she asked.
“It’s hit the papers but it’s grainy and altogether useless. The moment it hit the papers, we got calls from the FBI. It’s basically a waiting game right now; O’Malley expects the final call to come at any moment for them to take charge. He’s down at City Hall, pulling some strings with the mayor to try to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
“Thanks, Finley.”
She hung up before he had time to ask her how she was doing. She looked to the files and to her whiteboard, trying to tie up the loose ends with the vague theories she had started to piece together after speaking with Harold Randall.
When viewing the murders through the lens of someone that might be viewing the act of death and the presentation of the bodies more as a metaphysical act than a mere violent act of nature, it presented new options. It also presented new motives. Perhaps the man had an issue with the women that they had yet to uncover. Maybe he viewed the women as immoral….too much into their looks.
There were so many different ways to take it that it was overwhelming.
She again went to the whiteboard and jotted down new notes, looking to the pictures and assorted reports she had placed on the board with magnets. In all honesty, the notes she wrote down were not new. She had written them down several times in the last few days but with a new perspective, they felt new.
2 young girls. One mid-thirties.
Beauty. Perfection. No flaws (except tattoo, heavily scrubbed at).
Ice = frozen hearts? Frozen time? Purity?
She found herself drawing a line to connect No flaws and Frozen time.
Something about that seemed to click. She had wondered briefly two days ago if their killer was trying to preserve beauty. But if he was freezing these women because of their beauty and there was indeed some sort of metaphysical drive behind it all, maybe it wasn’t the simple preservation of beauty he was after.
Maybe he’s trying to capture it, she thought. Maybe he’s trying to freeze these women in the hopes of taking their beauty.
It was eerie how easily she could buy into such psychotic theories. But to understand a killer, you had to learn to think like a killer. And just like that, another idea came to her. It was an idea so obvious that she wondered how she had not thought of it before.
Because it’s borderline absurd, she told herself.
But she had no other options and in a strange way, this idea seemed to make sense. With the idea gaining traction in her head, she picked up her desk phone and punched in Finley’s extension again He answered quickly with a simple “Yeah?”
“Finley, I’ve got a weird request for you.”
“Good. The weirder the better.”
“Can you get together any information A1 has on local cryogenics labs or research?”
“Cryo—what? Avery, are you kidding?”
“Nope.”
“Isn’t that just a bunch of sci-fi crap?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I was hoping we could find out.”
***
The search didn’t take long because there was only one facility in the Boston metro area that fit the description she was looking for. Cryotherapy Partners and Solutions was located in the Back Bay area of town and while Avery was expecting something very much like Esben Technologies, she found something totally different. The place marketed itself as an upscale spa that, according to the website, “offered cutting edge cryotherapy solutions to prevent the telltale signs and pains that come with aging.”
When she read the word spa, she nearly tuned out but then the tagline pulled her in. If her new hunch was correct and this guy was indeed trying to somehow capture and preserve beauty through the use of extremely cold temperatures, the chances were good that his interests were aligned with what Cryotherapy Partners and Solutions offered.
She called on the way over, setting up an appointment with the manager. Avery said nothing about being a detective, simply setting up an appointment to learn more about what the company did and how their practices worked. Based on that premise, the manager was more than happy to make the time.
After that call, she then placed a call to the hospital. After being bounced around from desk to desk, she was finally able to speak to a nurse about Ramirez. His condition had not changed, which, according to the nurse, could be seen as both a positive and a negative. Avery was then given the assurance that she would be the first person called at the slightest sign of a change one way or another.
She parked in front of the building, taking in its upscale design. It was the part of town where the rent for a place like this had to be astronomical. It made her assume that the prices for the services they provided were equally outrageous.
She walked inside and chatted quickly with a receptionist who looked like she had been torn right out of a Maxim magazine. After being told the manager would be right with her, Avery took a seat in the small waiting room. Soft jazz played over the speakers and the lighting was so low that it felt more like a brooding coffee house than a cutting edge spa. She picked up a brochure from a small display against the wall and leafed through it.
All of the information inside of it had been taken from the website. It was quite vague, which made sense. She figured the science of it all would bore the casual reader. She did find the pictures within the brochure interesting. One of the three images showed a woman that looked as if she were made of plastic stepping into what looked like a futuristic tanning bed that had been tipped up on its front end so that it stood up vertically. The woman was wearing some sort of thick white garment that looked similar to the lead aprons x-ray techs often handed out before taking scans. A white mist was coming out of the machine and wrapping almost sensually around the woman’s legs.
Avery’s attention was drawn away from this odd-looking device when someone stepped into the room from behind the receptionist’s area. She looked up and saw a woman that looked to be in her forties. She wore librarian-style glasses and her hair was up in a tight little bun. She looked almost annoyingly cheerful�
��what Rose would have called spunky.
“Are you Avery?” the woman asked.
“I am.”
The woman extended her delicate hand to be shook and said: “I’m Leslie Deacon, the manager here at Cryotherapy Partners and Solutions. Come on back with me and we’ll have a chat.”
“Thank you,” Avery said, setting down the brochure and following Leslie through the door by the receptionist’s window. Leslie led her down a brightly lit hall where everything was white: the paint on the walls, the pictures in the hallway, even the carpet. They passed a few small offices before coming to a larger office. Leslie took a seat behind her desk and gestured for Avery to take the other one, sitting slightly to the side of the desk.
“Now,” Leslie asked, “are you interested in cryotherapy for basic cosmetic reasons or is there an underlying illness or injury you are hoping to improve?”
“Neither, really,” Avery said. “I suppose I should come clean, actually.” With that, she removed her ID from her jacket pocket and showed it to Leslie. “I’m Avery Black, Homicide. I need to know everything I can about what you do here.”
Leslie’s eyes widened but it was out of shock more than anything else. It was the expression of a woman who had not been expecting police involvement in her business. And that likely means she’s not guilty, Avery thought.
“Are we…in some sort of trouble?” Leslie asked. “I have to say, we’ve never faced any sort of legal issues before.”
“No, nothing like that. I’m working a case where the suspect is rather obsessed with ice. His actions and mannerisms indicate that he has some sort of separation from reality, thinking that he can potentially freeze beauty and maybe even capture it for himself. I’d just like to get a better understanding of the work you do here in the hopes of getting a better understanding.”
“My God,” Leslie said. “That’s terrible. Um…yes, I can tell you whatever you need to know.”
And she would, too, Avery thought. Leslie looked scared and downright disgusted that the link had even been suggested.
“Just the basics will do,” Avery said. “What is it you do here and how does it work?”
“Well, cryotherapy isn’t really all that new but it has just recently started to get popular within certain circles. It started in Hollywood—one of those therapeutic things that was far too expensive and obscure for anyone but Hollywood folks. But it’s getting more attention.
“Basically, cryotherapy involves submitting your body to extremely cold temperatures. Your body is essentially tricked into thinking that you’re freezing to death. When that happens, your body kicks into survival mode. And when that happens, your blood is sent to all of your vital organs, sort of working overtime. This burns fat better than just about any other method there is. It’s rather incredible. Then when the process is over, all of that oxygenated blood floods back to your extremities…and that is a very efficient way to rid the body of harmful toxins. So it’s several benefits in one.”
“And have these benefits been proven?” she asked.
“Several studies indicate as much, yes. But the US Food and Drug Administration haven’t seen enough proof, so they always make a point to say that they have never seen any real evidence in their own studies and reports. As you might imagine, it’s a rather controversial procedure.”
“Have you undergone cryotherapy?” Avery asked.
“Several times, yes. It’s worth noting that the anti-aging benefits are fairly obvious to see. Ask anyone that has undergone the treatment. It’s an almost surefire way to boost metabolism, stimulate the production of collagen, and reduce all sorts of inflammation, most noticeably around the joints.”
“And exactly how cold does it get in there?”
“We set our cryosauna to a negative two hundred and thirty degrees.”
The number was staggering to Avery—so much so that she assumed Leslie was kidding at first. “I’m sorry,” Avery said. “Did you say negative two hundred and thirty?”
“Yes.”
“And how long is the person in the chamber for?”
“They are in the cryosauna—not a chamber, goodness no—for anywhere between two and a half and three minutes.”
“And they come out fine?”
“Yes. There is a slight recovery process, of course. And there are a few safety precautions to take. We make sure each client is sweat-free. And if they are sweating before they step inside, we make them wait. We will encourage them to dry the sweat off with a towel.”
“And what’s wrong with sweat?” Avery asked.
“It gets cold enough in there to the point that a simple drop of sweat can cause frostbite.”
My God, Avery thought. The things people will do to look young…
“And what do you use to get it so cold in there?”
“We use liquid nitrogen that is carefully regulated by a highly advanced system. It pours into the cryosauna until the desired temperature is reached. It is all controlled by the highly sensitive thermostat on the computer.”
While Avery found this all fascinating and equally hard to fathom, she felt the conversation getting away from where she needed it to be. “What sort of requirements are necessary to work here?” she asked.
“It depends on the position, of course,” Leslie said. “Most of us have therapeutic experience of some degree, with the exception of Anna, the receptionist.”
“And how many people are cleared to actually run the cryosauna?”
“Well, there’s myself and one other that oversee each session, but the controls are quite simple. It’s all so automated that it’s literally just the push of three buttons and the session is over.”
“And what’s the hiring process like?”
Leslie looked truly troubled for the first time since stepping into the waiting room about fifteen minutes ago. There was a flash of irritation in her eyes. “Forgive me,” she said, “but is this a covert way of you asking if I think that anyone employed by Cryotherapy Partners and Solutions could be your killer?”
“Yes, that’s the point I was getting to,” Avery answered. “Given the information we have, it’s at least worth looking into.”
She’ll object but give in, Avery thought. She’s too polite and too much of a professional to cause much of a fuss.
“Well, that’s ridiculous.”
“Okay, let’s take it down a notch,” Avery said, wanting to keep things as civil as possible. “How about clients? Are there any that come in that you aren’t quite certain of? Any that seem off?”
Leslie legitimately thought about it for a while and then shook her head. “None that I can think of.”
“Okay. Then I’ll make sure you ask the members of your staff when I speak with them,” she said. She did not ask it…she said it. This was what she was going to do.
“Well, there are only seven of us. Five are here today. The sixth is on vacation in Maui. The seventh called in sick yesterday and is still not feeling well.”
“How long has the sixth been in Maui?”
“A week. She comes back in two days.”
“And what about this sick employee?”
For just a flickering moment, Avery caught an uneasy look on Leslie’s face. It was clear that Leslie knew Avery had caught it because she looked down to the desk. “She’s had some problems as of late. Behavioral sort of stuff. She was rude to the clients and complained of headaches. I’d like to fire her but…I just feel so bad for her.”
Her, Avery thought. Very likely not the killer. “And why do you feel so bad for her?”
“It sounds shallow, I know…but she has a scar on her face—something she’s had since birth. I thought it was important to have someone like her on staff so that the people that came in here didn’t think I had an office full of Barbie dolls, you know? I think it’s important to understand that sometimes life deals us a certain hand and that’s okay.”
You’re right, that does sound shallow, Avery thought. Hiring someone
to fill some sort of quota just so everyone won’t think you’re discriminating. Classy.
Avery thought all of this over and while there were no alarms sounding in her head, there were a few things that didn’t quite sit right.
Behavior issues. Headaches. Sick for two days…
And she apparently has some sort of physical scarring. That might very will trigger some detached response toward trying to capture and harness beauty.
“I’d like the name and address of the sick employee, please,” Avery said.
“I don’t think that’s necessary. It’s also a violation of trust.”
“Some might see it that way. You know who won’t, though? The mayor. He wants this wrapped up as quickly as possible before he has a PR disaster on his hands. So if I call him and tell him you’re holding up the investigation—”
“Fine, fine,” Leslie said bitterly. “I can pull that up for you right now.”
Good girl, Avery thought.
“Thank you. And in the meantime, I’d like to have a word with your other staff members as well.”
“Help yourself,” Leslie said, now not doing much to hide the fact that she was getting annoyed.
Avery left the office and did just that. She spoke to the other four employees that were there and found them helpful and, in most cases, eager to help her in any way they could. They all seemed to believe in the benefits of cryotherapy yet did not mind her questioning them about it. It seemed smooth and flawless until she spoke with the fifth employee—Anna, the receptionist.
When Avery asked her about the sick employee that often had headaches and had recently been rude and off-putting to some of the clients, Anna rolled her eyes.
“That’s Erin. She’s…well, she’s interesting.”
“And why do you say that?”
Anna bit at her lip and looked away for a moment. “I really don’t want to gossip or talk bad about anyone.”
“Even if it could help the police answer some questions?”
Anna sighed and gave a defeated shrug. “She looks at me in this really weird way sometimes. It’s not like a sexual look but I feel like she’s sizing me up for something. It’s not the same as when you know a guy is sort of undressing you with your eyes, but it’s close. Like a darker version of that.”
Cause to Fear Page 17
