“Her name is Catalina Morales. She drives a light-blue Nissan pickup, which may have been parked at the Pershing house the day before Andra Caiden died.”
Jackson couldn’t see the connection. “How did you find her? And why was she at the house?”
“Catalina had a relationship with Logan Grayson, the football player who died. I went to his memorial service this morning and saw her leaving in the blue truck.” Evans looked pained and lowered herself back into the chair. “So I brought her in for questioning. I thought you might want to take the lead. But then you got the text . . .”
Yesterday, it would have felt like a breakthrough. Right now, it annoyed him. But the woman had to be questioned. What if she knew Wagner? Or the freaky teenager next door? Or whoever the hell they were dealing with? “Let’s go talk to her. We can’t do much until we hear from the kidnapper again.” He strode toward the door, then turned back. “Quince, call Sprint and get them to track Katie’s phone.”
The woman behind the table in the stark windowless room looked young and scared. And pregnant. Jackson took a seat, and Evans joined him, easing into the hard chair. He didn’t have time for niceties. “My daughter is missing, and I’m in a foul mood. So don’t lie to me and don’t waste my time.”
Her lips trembled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He needed to locate the kidnapper first, then figure out what had happened at the Pershing house after he had Katie back. “How do you know Carl Wagner?”
“I don’t. Really!”
“Have you ever lived in Salt Lake City?”
“No. I moved here from Sacramento with my sister five years ago, and I’ve never lived anywhere else.”
“How do you know Andra Caiden?”
“Who?”
The suspect might not know her real name. “Amanda Carter.”
A pause. “I don’t know her either.”
He slammed the table. “Don’t lie to me! She was murdered, and you’re the only person I can connect to the crime. Tell me what happened.”
She blinked rapidly, color draining from her rosy cheeks. “When was she killed?”
“You tell me!”
“I don’t know. I never met her.”
“But you know who she is.”
Catalina burst into tears, then began to sob. And didn’t stop. Frustrated, Jackson stood. “Would you like some water?”
She didn’t answer.
His phone beeped. Another text. He left the room, opening it as he went. The message was from Sophie Speranza. Not now, he thought. But he read it anyway, amazed at her timing: Call me ASAP. A rental scammer may have killed Amanda Carter. He’d never told Sophie the victim’s real name. Now he had to call her. Maybe the reporter had details that could help him crack open Catalina’s story.
As he dialed, Evans stepped out of the room. “I’m getting her a soda. Want one?”
“Please.”
Sophie answered, sounding more tightly wound than usual. “You mentioned the victim, Amanda Carter, was found in a nearly empty house. And I just conducted a sting on a rental scammer who calls herself Tessa. A similar setup. Want to hear about it?”
A sting? She was too much. “Tell me.” He knew Sophie expected something in exchange, and he was pressed for time. “And yes, I’ll give you more information.”
“Great. Here’s the short version. Tessa advertised on Craigslist for a roommate to share a house, then gave me a story about how her last roommate moved out, took all her stuff, and left her without rent money. After I had the address, I found the owner’s name and concluded the house had been abandoned. So I met her there, signed her phony rental agreement, and gave her cash. A cameraman who was with me filmed the whole thing.”
What the hell? Had Andra been the victim of a rental scam gone wrong? Or had she been victimized twice by different assholes?
Sophie kept talking. “Maybe something similar happened to Amanda. Maybe even the same scammer or group of scammers.”
“What do you know about Tessa?”
“Not much. I’m sure the name is fake, and she wore a hooded sweatshirt and sunglasses. But she’s driving a silver Toyota, and I have her license plate.”
“Tell me.”
Jackson wrote it down as she talked. He cut her off. “I have to go. This case is bigger now. But the victim’s real name is Andra Caiden. She’s from Salt Lake City and she has a three-year-old boy who survived the incident.” He hung up before she could ask more questions. The father/kidnapper already knew Benjie was here. Releasing info about him now might bring a legitimate family member forward.
While he waited for Evans, he hurried upstairs to their work area, the building strangely quiet. He called out to Schak and Quince, “Got anything yet?”
Quince stood and talked over the cubical wall. “A yellow Volkswagen van was stolen this morning from the Sundance Market.”
“That’s a half mile from my house. Get a bulletin on the vehicle now.”
“Yes, sir.”
Schak stepped out of his cube. “Nothing yet from Wagner’s phone company, but they’ve prioritized it and promised to call back within the hour.”
Jackson had second thoughts about calling the feds. Would the FBI be able to apply more pressure? Should he get Agent River involved? They’d worked a kidnapping together before, but she’d had to bring tech people down from Portland, a two-hour drive. He wanted to have the bastard in custody before then. “Let me know as soon as you have it. I’m going back to the interrogation room.”
CHAPTER 38
Catalina had stopped crying and was drinking a Pepsi. Evans sat next to her, coaxing the suspect to make a deal so her baby wouldn’t be born to a prisoner.
Jackson stayed on his feet. “We know the Pershing house was a scam. You went there to meet Amanda Carter, take her rent money, then disappear. What happened to her?”
“I never met her.”
Evasive, but maybe not a lie. “Who are your partners? What is Tessa’s real name?”
She blinked rapidly but didn’t speak.
Jackson raised his voice. “We’re going to hit you with a murder charge if you don’t tell us everything you know about the Pershing house and Amanda’s death.” Considering the rape/strangulation theory, it didn’t seem likely Catalina had committed the crime, but he couldn’t rule it out either.
“Yes, we used the house to make some cash. We ran an ad on Craigslist and picked Amanda to rent to.”
Evans cut in, “You and Logan Grayson?”
“Yes. He was trying to help me get money together so I could see a doctor. I’ve been having pain from my pregnancy.”
Please don’t let her miscarry in this room. Jackson pressed ahead. “When and where did the money change hands?”
“At the rental house, Sunday afternoon.”
“You were there?”
“No. Logan handled this one.”
“This wasn’t the first?”
“I want a deal. I won’t incriminate myself unless you promise I’m not going to jail.”
“That’s up to the district attorney. But I’ll work with him to get you probation only. Unless you killed Amanda and your DNA turns up on the murder weapon.”
“I never met her! I swear.” Catalina hiccupped in the middle, then held her breath.
“You participated in other rental scams, correct? Composed e-mails? Spent the money?”
“Yes.” Another hiccup.
Pregnancy did weird things to the diaphragm, and he wanted to wrap this up before she started puking. “Did you go to the Pershing house on Monday?”
“No.”
“Quit wasting my time and tell me who did.”
“I don’t know. Logan was at my apartment for most of the evening, but after he did the coke, he took off. He said he had to run a
n errand.”
Evans leaned forward. “You lied to me. You said he was with you all evening.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“Why did you lie?” Evans pressed.
“To protect him. Logan’s a good guy” A pause for more hiccups. “He was under a lot of pressure, and some of it’s my fault for getting pregnant.”
Jackson turned to Evans. “Do we have his DNA?”
“In blood samples at the state lab.”
“Let’s get a comparison to Andra Caiden’s trace evidence.” He turned back to the suspect. “Did Logan know Amanda?”
A crease appeared between her eyebrows. “Why would he? She was just a loser who answered the rental ad.”
Jackson wanted to shake her up. “Logan had sex with Amanda before she died. He probably killed her too.” Jackson wasn’t convinced, but it was starting to seem possible.
“No!” She jumped up and kicked her chair. “He wouldn’t cheat on me. And he didn’t kill anybody.”
Evans was on her feet now too. “What about Danica? Logan was still seeing the cheerleader, and she’s got bruises. Logan had a mean, violent streak, didn’t he?”
“No.” So soft they barely heard it.
Jackson wished he knew more about Evans’ case. And he still needed to tell Evans about Sophie’s sting and the other scammer named Tessa.
Catalina was crying again and still hiccupping.
Evans started toward the door. “I’ll get you some water.” The new building had a drinking faucet right outside.
Jackson didn’t have the luxury of giving the suspect a break. “What time did Logan come back to your place?”
“He didn’t. He called me later and said he didn’t feel well and needed to go home.”
“What time did he call?”
“I’m not sure.” Another hiccup.
“Look in your phone.”
“I don’t have it. The lady cop took it.”
Evans came into the room with the water, and Jackson turned to her. “Do you have Catalina’s phone on you? She needs to check the time of a call.” He needed to know if Logan Grayson had the opportunity to kill Andra. His motive was still unclear. And if he hadn’t killed her, then Wagner or the teenage sociopath probably had.
“I have it, but drink this first.” She handed Catalina the glass. “Drink it all at once while I cover your ears with my hands. It’ll get rid of your hiccups.”
Jackson watched the process, his impatience growing. The kidnapper still had Katie, and they were not any closer to figuring out who or where he was.
The suspect choked at the end and couldn’t finish the water, but her hiccups stopped anyway. She scrolled back in her phone and found the log from nearly a week before.
“Logan called at nine thirty-six. He was driving, I could tell.”
Andra had been killed between eight and ten, so Grayson could have done it. But why?
Evans asked, “When he took cocaine, did it make him angry?”
She shrugged. “Mostly hyper. Sometimes impatient.”
Evans had the lead now. “Sexually aggressive?”
“Sometimes.”
“Were the two of you still sexually active or did your pregnancy interfere?”
Catalina picked at a fingernail. “I told you. I’ve been having pain and needed to see a doctor. So we hadn’t had sex in a while.” More tears. “That doesn’t mean he cheated on me with a stranger.”
Jackson had to get out of the room. “We’ll be back.” He bolted for the door. Knowing more about the circumstances of Andra’s death was a relief, but it wasn’t helping him find Katie. He wanted to be out there, searching. Even driving around would feel better than waiting.
As he and Evans conferred in the space outside the holding cell, keeping some distance between themselves, Schak thundered down the nearby stairs. “They located Wagner’s phone. He’s in Pocatello, Idaho.”
What the hell?
CHAPTER 39
They were back in the conference room, and Jackson couldn’t sit still, so he paced and speculated. “Just because Wagner’s phone is in Idaho, doesn’t mean he is.”
“True.” Schak nodded. “He could have left the phone in the RV just to throw us off.”
“How did he get here?” Evans stood at the board, asking for suggestions.
“He probably drove. It’s only ten or twelve hours from Idaho.” Jackson had called Susan Wagner’s number at least five times that morning, hoping for some cooperation, but she had ignored him. Now he suspected she wanted Benjie back too. She probably wouldn’t believe her husband had killed the surrogate mother. Jackson wasn’t sure he still believed Wagner had killed Andra. But the father was the only one with motive. Evans suspected Logan Grayson had snorted tainted cocaine, then died of a heart attack. But whether the football player stopped at the Pershing house to rape and/or kill Andra between those two occurrences was still an unknown. Grayson and Andra could have had consensual sex, then Benjie’s father, also still an unknown, could have shown up later.
He turned back to the group, which had gone quiet. “We need to call the state lab and get our DNA work prioritized.”
“It’s Saturday,” Evans reminded him.
Jackson bit back another outburst. “Why hasn’t the kidnapper contacted us again?” A pointless question.
Quince’s phone rang and they all jumped. He answered it, then was silent. Jackson held his breath. Finally, Quince said, “Sprint tracked Katie’s phone to a shopping center at Fortieth and Donald.”
“Let’s get a patrol car out there.”
“Would he be stupid enough to hold on to her phone after using it?” Evans’ tone indicated she didn’t think so.
“He’s acting irrationally on some levels,” Jackson responded. “But he’s also clever enough to steal vehicles and avoid detection.” A headache had been building, and now it felt like a vice grip was pressing into his temples. He looked in his carryall for aspirin. “The perp probably ditched the phone or tossed it into the back of a truck or something.”
“He’ll have to arrange a meet,” Evans said. “We can close in when he does.”
The desk officer barged in. “A patrol unit spotted a black Malibu with silver details in the parking lot at the Hilyard Community Center. The vehicle was empty, but he called in the license, and it belongs to Eleanor Marsh. He’s trying to contact her.”
Damn. Probably stolen. The community center was also near his home. “Thanks. Do you have the plate number?”
The clerk handed him the registration information and left.
“He stole a vehicle to conduct the first attempt this morning,” Schak said. “Then stole another one for the second abduction. He’s cautious.”
“Only on some levels,” Jackson argued. “Kidnapping a child from a police officer’s home is irrational.”
“And audacious,” Evans added. “What do we do with Catalina? We can’t leave her in the pit indefinitely.”
“Get her something to eat, then put her in the soft room. She can lay down on the couch.”
Evans locked eyes with him. “I don’t think she knows Wagner or had anything to do with the murder or kidnapping.”
“I’m inclined to agree. But what if we’re wrong? What if she gave up Andra’s location to Wagner? What if she knows how to contact the perp? Katie’s life is at stake.”
“We’ll get your daughter back soon,” she promised. “He wants the boy and won’t just go away.”
His phone rang and he snatched it from the table. “Jackson here.”
“Is Benjie with you?”
The kidnapper! “He will be soon.”
“Not good enough. I want to hear him speak. And you need to send a time-stamped picture of him from your phone.” The kidnapper’s voice was low and scratchy.
Had he heard it somewhere before?
“Do it quickly,” the man continued. “I’ll be gone before the feds can set up. But if I leave town without my son, you’ll never see your daughter again.”
Bastard! Jackson locked his jaw to keep from responding. He’d heard the perp’s voice somewhere, but he didn’t associate it with Carl Wagner. Whoever he was, they needed to build rapport. “I haven’t called the FBI, and I have no reason to keep your son from you. Benjie should be with his family. But I have to know that Katie is alive. Let me talk to her.”
The perp had hung up.
Jackson forced himself to breathe deeply. No more outbursts. No more emotional blindness. He had to stay focused. To be as cold and calculating as his adversary.
“Should we get Agent River?” Quince said. “The FBI can trace phone calls and put a chopper in the air if we need it.”
Jackson knew it was the right thing. It was also pointless. “Go ahead and call the bureau, but I’m not waiting two hours for their tech people to get here. The kidnapper wants to hear from Benjie, so I’m heading over to McCray’s.”
“We need a damn plan!” Schak sounded rattled.
“We can’t plan until we know when and how he wants to do the exchange.” Jackson clapped his partner’s shoulder. “He’s calling the shots, for now. We have to play it out.”
“I’m coming with you.” Schak pushed to his feet.
“Thanks.” Jackson turned to Quince and held out his phone with the latest call displaying. “Try to track down this phone number.” To Evans, he said, “You’re not going out in the field today. You’re injured.”
She didn’t argue, but that didn’t mean she would go along. “Have McCray bring Benjie here,” Evans suggested. “That way we can all network and plan.”
It made sense but it worried him. “What if the perp intercepts Benjie? He could be sitting in a vehicle across the street, watching us.”
“He doesn’t know where Benjie is. That’s why he took Katie. We just have to meet McCray outside to protect him.” Evans looked pale and pained, but her eyes were on fire. “We’re a fucking police department. He’s not going to grab him from our parking lot. If he does, we’ll crush him.”
Deadly Bonds (A Detective Jackson Mystery) Page 20
