Crush - Alan Jacobson [121]
Agbayani pointed at the screen. “Can we use this to determine the location of a perp who’s transmitting a text message in real time?”
“Yes. If the carrier uses GSM technology, you can triangulate within a seven-to twenty-mile radius.”
“Miles?” Lugo tossed down his pen. “You’ve gotta be kidding.”
“Point is,” Brix said, “we can determine the type of phone used and where he may’ve bought it.”
“That might give us an idea as to where he lives or works,” Lugo said. “But what do we do, watch weeks of surveillance tapes—if the store even has security cameras? We don’t even know who we’re looking for.” He looked around at everyone in the room. “This ain’t gonna help.”
Gordon rocked forward in his seat. “I think we should plot the messages the asshole’s already sent to Vail and set it up so we’re monitoring her cell in real time. If and when this scumbag texts her again, we can at least triangulate on him.” He spread his thick hands. “Better than nothing.”
Amanda said, “Not to make things more difficult for you, but one thing you should be aware of is that the texts sent to Agent Vail’s phone were from different disposable, pre-paid phones.”
Mann slowly shook his head. “I think Ray’s right. Waste of time.”
Brix sighed. “Look, we do what we’ve gotta do. We use the tools available to us. Anyone got a better idea, now’s the time.”
Everyone looked at one another.
Dixon thanked Amanda for her assistance and dismissed her. She then recapped the information she and Vail had learned from Crystal Dahlia, Ian Wirth, and Robert Friedberg. “Karen’s still got a problem with the motive because it just doesn’t fit with how serial killers operate, their whole psychological makeup, and why they do what they do. But I think we should follow the course, see what we turn up.”
“We’re always learning and seeing new things,” Vail said. “So this offender could be a new breed, or just something we haven’t seen before. Right now, I wouldn’t discount anything. I wish I could offer more, but I’ve had a hard time putting it all together.”
“Let’s have you guys stay on it, dig deeper into the AVA board and its players,” Dixon said. “Karen and I have a follow-on appointment in half an hour with the attorney. We’ll keep you posted.”
Brix opened his notepad and flipped pages. “Last order of business. I’ve got something from the Special Investigations Bureau on the prosthesis request Karen had.” He shot a glance at Mann, then Vail, and continued: “This is preliminary stuff, but there were a total of a hundred-fifty-seven males with upper limb prosthetics. Only eleven in the age range Karen specified. Two were alibied, three were out of town and unreachable and the other six are being interviewed, or are scheduled to be interviewed. Just going by their sheets and backgrounds, it doesn’t look promising. But I told NSIB to ride it out. Questions?”
No one spoke.
“Okay, then. Keep at it. You find anything, let us all know.”
FORTY-FIVE
As Vail and Dixon descended the stairs of the sheriff’s department, Marc Benezra’s secretary phoned Dixon and moved their meeting to the nearby Artesa Winery, ten minutes down the road off Highway 12.
“You’re in for a real treat,” Dixon said. “Artesa has one of the more picturesque views of the valley. And judging by the weather and rainfall we had last month, you’re going to get an eyeful.”
Dixon took Highway 121, then turned left onto 12.
“Isn’t this the same way we went to Sonoma?”
“It is. But not nearly as far. We’re gonna turn off 12 in a few minutes, into the Carneros Region. Carneros is known for its Pinot Noir and Chardonnay. But Artesa is one of my favorite places to take guests when they come to visit. It’s like an