Perez nodded. “How do you want to handle the interview?”
“I’ll take the lead. She might feel more comfortable talking to a woman.”
“Got it,” he said, grinning. “I’ll be the strong, silent type.”
Within ten minutes, they arrived at a one-story mission-style adobe building on one of the smaller side streets. After parking in a space reserved for law enforcement, they pushed through the glass doors of a vestibule and walked to the front desk.
“Are you with the police?” a birdlike older woman with a short gray bob asked.
Nina flipped open her creds. “I’m Special Agent Guerrera, and this is Detective Perez.”
The woman’s eyes widened over rectangular spectacles. “Guerrera . . . you’re Nina Guerrera?” Her slender hand fluttered to her chest. “Oh my.”
Nina felt a hot flush burn through her. Like so many others, this woman had been following the story. Which meant she’d probably seen the video. She cut her eyes to Perez, and the heat intensified as she realized that he had as well. This was her new reality.
She straightened. “Where can we speak privately with Emma Fisher?”
The woman recovered. “I’ll have one of the staff escort her to an interview room. We have several.” She picked up a portable radio from the desk.
Nina stood silently by, refusing to make eye contact with Perez.
“Go ahead to room three,” the woman said, pointing to her left. “Emma will be there shortly.”
They headed down a wide corridor to a row of small rooms lining the interior wall. Room three was unlocked, and Perez trailed her inside. The room was Spartan, with a threadbare love seat on one side and two thinly upholstered chairs on the other.
“Hello?” A timid female voice sounded from the open doorway.
Nina turned to see a girl whose kohl-rimmed eyes added a hardened look to her otherwise youthful face. “Emma?”
The girl nodded, and Nina gestured toward the love seat. “I’m—”
“I know who you are,” Emma said.
Nina fought the rising heat again and gestured to her side. “This is Detective Perez. We’d like to ask you a few questions about your phone call. Is your mother around?”
Emma sat down. “Mom’s passed out in bed.”
“Okay,” Nina said. “Do you mind if we record this interview?”
Emma shrugged.
“I need you to answer out loud,” Nina said as Perez put a digital recorder on the scarred oak coffee table between them. “For the record.”
“Yeah, you can record this.”
“Why don’t you start by telling me what happened yesterday evening?”
“Trina got into this huge fight with her mom.”
“Who is Trina?”
“Trina Davidson. I just met her about a week ago, and we kind of started hanging out because we’re, like, the only girls here who aren’t in diapers.”
Nina nodded. “What time was this argument last night?”
“About nine or so. After the blowout, Trina and me decided to go outside to um . . . hang.”
Nina flicked a glance at the nicotine stains yellowing Emma’s chipped nails. “You wanted to smoke.”
“Whatever.” She waved the comment away. “Anyway, we go around the corner, but Trina only has one cig left, so I go to the Circle K across the street to buy another pack. I’m waiting in line at the counter, and I look out the window and see this guy walk up to Trina.”
“What did he look like?”
“Biker dude.” Emma slid her hands up and down her arms. “He was tatted up, like from his shoulders to his wrists. His head was shaved, and he had a black goatee.”
Nina slid her eyes to Perez. This was nothing like any of the previous descriptions. But then again . . .
“How big was he?” Nina asked.
“Tall and pretty buff.” Emma jerked her chin at Perez. “Like him.”
“What did he do when he approached Trina?”
“Handed her another smoke. Talked to her. She smiled a lot. I think she was kind of into him.”
“What happened next?”
“The stupid woman at the counter was taking forever with my cigarettes. Couldn’t find my brand. So I asked for something else.”
Nina suppressed a groan. “With Trina.”
“Oh, right. She went with him to this big motor home–looking thing parked in that empty lot next door.”
“You say a motor home,” she asked. “You mean like an RV?”
“Yeah, like the kind people live in when they drive around the country. It was all black, even the windows. Creeped me out, don’t know why.”
Because your survival instincts kicked in, Nina thought.
“What happened next?” she said.
“Trina went inside the RV with him, and I went back to the shelter.” Her eyes grew moist. “That’s the last I saw of her.”
“Did you tell anyone about it last night?”
“No. I thought maybe Trina really liked this guy. I don’t know.”
“So when did you decide you should say something?”
“This morning.” Twin black trails of eyeliner slid down Emma’s cheeks as the tears began. “I was watching the TV in the dining area, and that scientist guy talked about the clue being a phoenix bird. I knew it was about this city. I just knew it.” She choked back a sob. “Then I saw the picture of that girl holding the sign, and I recognized her tattoo. I mean, a lot of people have tribal tattoos around their wrists, but Trina’s is exactly like the one on TV. Just to be sure, I looked around for her, and she wasn’t at breakfast, so I checked with her mom.”
“What did her mom say?”
“Trina never came in last night. Her mom figured she ran away for the zillionth time. I didn’t say anything about it to her. I just went to the front desk and asked to use the phone. They made me tell them why, and I said I had a tip for the eight-hundred number.”
“Did you see the RV drive away last night?” Nina said.
“No. I checked the parking lot this morning. It’s gone.”
Nina plucked a tissue from a box on the end table and held it out. “Some detectives will come by soon to follow up with you. I’m very glad you called, Emma. You did the right thing.”
“No, I didn’t.” Emma snatched the tissue. “If I’d done the right thing, I would have called someone sooner. Like last night. Now she’s probably dead. And it’s my fault.”
“Don’t blame yourself. You called. That’s what’s important right now.” She thought of something. “Speaking of calls, does Trina have a cell phone?”
With luck, they could ping her signal and get a location.
“Nobody here can afford a cell. That’s why I had to use the phone at the front desk to call you guys.”
“Can you give us any more information about the biker? Would you be able to draw any of his tattoos or describe them in detail? Were there any specific words or images you remember?”
“It was dark, and I was pretty far away. I couldn’t see anything specific.”
“What about a license plate or any designs on the RV?”
“Like I said, it was dark.” She pursed her lips. “Look, I’ve told you everything I know. Shouldn’t you be out looking for her?”
Nina stood. “I know you’re concerned about Trina, and so are we. We’ve got to follow up on what you’ve told us. The other detectives will want to talk to you, your mom, and Trina’s mom too.”
“Trina’s mom will kill me.” Emma crossed her arms. “She’s mean.”
“No one will kill you. I’m sure she’ll understand.”
Emma looked doubtful. “Will you tell me if you find Trina?”
“We’ll get word to you.”
After repeated assurances that responding police would prevent Trina’s mother from throttling her, they walked out together. Nina stood by as Perez called the EOC to update them and request a follow-up interview and support services for Emma and Trina’s m
other.
Nina heard him ask for a contact check for a black RV. “Good idea. If we get lucky, someone who illegally parked an RV in a city-owned lot might park it somewhere else they shouldn’t.”
“Or he could have gotten a traffic ticket,” Perez said. “Worth a try.”
Nina gave him an appreciative nod. “The Cipher wouldn’t have any reason to suspect we’d be looking for a motor home. He doesn’t know Emma saw him talking to Trina, much less taking her inside an RV.”
“If this is our guy in another disguise,” Perez said. “But it could be some other cochino pervert.”
She agreed that any adult who lured a juvenile was filthy and disgusting, and knew that a lot of girls had wrist tattoos, but she sensed this was the Cipher. Felt it in her bones. “Is there an RV campground close by?”
“Not anywhere near downtown.”
“Where would you go if you had an RV and you wanted to hold someone against their will inside? Where is there a lot of open space and privacy from prying eyes?”
“The RV grounds in the nearby cities are crowded. The vehicles are packed in tight together.”
“What about parks?”
“Not allowed overnight,” he said. “The parks close at dark.”
“If this is the unsub, he’ll have already worked something out. He planted that clue in Savannah to make sure our attention was focused on the other side of the country while he set up shop here.”
Perez pulled a buzzing cell phone from his pocket. “It’s the EOC.” He toed a pebble on the loose, sandy ground while he listened. “Direct. Agent Guerrera and I will check it out.” He disconnected and grinned at her. “Got a hit.”
Perez filled her in as they drove away from downtown.
“Patrol unit in the Maryvale-Estrella precinct got a report of an illegally parked RV last night,” Perez said, making his way through traffic. “Maryvale got hit hard during the recession. A lot of developers left empty lots behind when they cleared out.”
“What did the patrol officer see?”
“Drove by and found the vehicle inside a fenced area. He spoke to the night watchman, who said the owner of the lot told him he’d given permission for the RV to park there for two days. So the officer wrote down the security guard’s name and left.”
“They’re checking on the story?”
“The officer didn’t enter the name of the security company. Someone in the EOC is tracking down the landowner now. Not an easy process. In the meantime, we can have a peek.”
Nina grabbed the door handle as Perez took a corner a bit too fast. “Do you think the unsub got hinked out by the patrol unit and relocated?”
“The opposite,” Perez said. “He probably figures the cops won’t bother him again since they think he has permission to be there. It’s private property, so he’s more at risk from the Zoning Department than the police.” He shrugged. “And by the time Zoning gets around to him, he plans to be long gone, so he’s bought himself time and won’t be in a hurry to leave.”
Nina hoped Perez was right. During the drive to Maryvale, he told her about Phoenix and its quirky history. It was her first time in the Valley of the Sun, and she liked the city’s Southwest vibe.
Perez pulled the Tahoe to a stop in front of a chain-link fence at the dead end of a deserted street. He hadn’t been kidding about the recession. The area looked as if the builders had driven their backhoes and cement mixers away in the middle of the construction project. Over the years, mesquite and wiry shrubs had reclaimed the dusty lots.
An enormous black RV stood out against a backdrop of brown desertscape about twenty yards back from the fence.
Nina looked around. “You see any sign of the security guard?”
“Nope. Maybe he only works at night.”
“This RV matches Emma’s description,” Nina said. “What do you think?”
Perez rested a hand on his hip. “We’ll either find a runaway sixteen-year-old girl, or another one of the killer’s victims.”
She recalled her private vow to do whatever it took. Gritting her teeth, she rushed to the fence and ran her hand along the metal links. “Do you see an opening anywhere?”
“There’s a gate, but it’s padlocked.”
She rattled the fence. “Pretty sturdy.” She stuck her foot in and began to hoist herself up.
“I guess the FBI doesn’t bother with minor details like search warrants,” Perez said.
“Investigatory only,” she said over her shoulder. “Not entering the vehicle.”
He clambered over after her, his polished shoes thudding down in a cloud of dust beside her.
She crept closer to the vehicle. “The windows are all covered like Emma said. Not just curtains pulled, looks like something’s blacking them out from the inside.” She shook her head. “I don’t like it.” She started for the RV’s door.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“I thought I heard something.” She raised her voice. “Trina?”
A muffled bellow followed by rhythmic thumping emanated from the vehicle.
“It’s got to be her,” Nina said. “I think she’s kicking something.”
Perez grabbed his phone. “I’ll call it in.”
She pulled her gun from its holster. “Screw that.” She had heard what sounded to her like a high-pitched, muffled cry. The sound a girl would make with a gag in her mouth. She didn’t want to wait for backup.
Perez hesitated. “Agent Guerrera?”
“Now I have exigent circumstances.” She marched toward the massive vehicle. “I’m going in.”
“If he’s in there with her, it’s a hostage situation. We need tactical—”
“Cover the back window,” she called over her shoulder as she reached the steps to the RV’s door. As she extended a hand toward the latch, it occurred to her that this was exactly the kind of reckless action Kent had warned her about.
Chapter 41
Nina heard Perez cursing behind her as she tugged at the door’s weathered latch. Locked. “FBI, open the door.”
“Mmmmf!”
The response was followed by frantic thumping.
Nina raised her foot and kicked the metal door. She managed a dent, but it held. “Trina, is he inside with you?” She thought about a way to communicate. “Kick twice if you’re alone.”
Two kicks answered in rapid succession.
She turned to Perez. “I told you to cover the back window.”
“I’m not letting you go in alone,” he said. “Backup’s on the way.”
“I’m not waiting.” She aimed another kick at the door. And another.
“Why don’t you let me do that?”
Ignoring him, she delivered another kick. The door gave. Nina yanked it open and rushed up two interior steps into the main cabin. She heard a plaintive wail coming from the sleeping quarters in back.
“Go low,” Perez whispered.
From the corner of her eye, she saw the barrel of his Glock slightly above her head. She crouched and edged forward, allowing him to take the higher stance and avoid a crossfire.
The divider separating the rear compartment was open, and Nina saw bare legs manacled spread-eagle on a queen-size bed that dominated the tight space. The shackles were bolted to the wall with heavy gauge steel eye hooks. Nina moved in closer, eyes darting in every direction before settling on the girl’s face.
Tears streamed from beneath a black bandanna folded to cover her eyes and tied behind her head. Mucus slid down from her reddened nose to drip over two bands of silver duct tape covering her mouth. Her wrists were also shackled to eyehooks. Nina could see that one of her legs was close enough to the built-in bedside table to allow for the girl to kick it.
The girl shook her head from side to side. “Mmmmf!”
“Watch my back,” Nina said over her shoulder as she holstered her weapon. “You’re safe now.” She offered reassurance as she approached the bed. “I’m Special Agent Nina Guerrera, FBI. I’m not go
ing to let him hurt you anymore.” She tugged the bandanna off, then grasped the tape and tore it away with a loud ripping sound.
The girl’s eyes were wild with terror. “Help me!”
Nina focused on the most critical question. “Where is he?”
“He said he’d be right back,” the girl said. “You’ve got to get me out of here.”
The sound of sirens reached the vehicle.
“Tell them to cut their sirens,” Nina said to Perez. “I want to get her out of here and catch him when he comes back.”
“It’s no good,” Perez said. “Every available unit is on the way. And I saw people from another neighborhood down the street walking toward us. They’ll have a tamale stand set up in twenty minutes.”
The Cipher would see the crowd and slip away unseen. She closed her eyes and swore before turning back to the girl. “Where is the key to unlock the shackles?”
“He took the keys with him.”
Nina heard the tinny sound of clanging metal outside as responding police officers scaled the chain-link fence.
“See if anyone has bolt cutters,” she said to Perez.
After he left, she stroked the girl’s cheek. She matched the description Emma had given, but Nina needed to be sure. “Are you Trina Davidson?”
She nodded. “Where’s my mom?”
“She’s at the shelter. The police will bring her to meet us when we leave.”
“Where will you take me?”
“To the hospital. You need to be checked out.”
Trina began to shiver. “Can you cover me with something?”
“Of course.” She pulled off her raid jacket. She was draping it over Trina when Perez stuck his head in the door.
“Rescue’s here. They have bolt cutters.”
He disappeared and two EMTs tromped up the steps, filling the cramped space with their gear.
“Excuse me.” One of them shouldered past her with an oversize set of shears in his hand. When he bent toward Trina’s foot, she shrieked.
Nina put a hand on the EMT’s forearm. “Hold on a sec.”
She squeezed past him to kneel on the mattress next to Trina. “Look at me, honey.”
The Cipher Page 24
