Crush - Alan Jacobson [132]
“Call the news desk at KNTV,” Dixon said to Agbayani. “Tell them we need a reporter and cameraman, in a marked van. Explain to them we have an exclusive breaking story that’s fluid. But,” she said, raising a finger, “do not mention the words serial killer.”
Agbayani nodded, then pulled his phone.
“Ray,” Brix said, “anything on the tracking?”
“Delivered to the mail server. I’ll ask the IT guys to do a more thorough analysis of its path. But I would guess it’ll end up at some generic wireless connection and he’ll be long gone.”
“We don’t know if we don’t try. Have them look into it.”
FORTY MINUTES PASSED. The task force members performed follow-up on their various outstanding tasks, compared notes, and discussed the information they had amassed that had not yet been shared with the group. It didn’t necessarily get them closer to identifying the Crush Killer, but it helped pass the time while they waited for some indication that the UNSUB was going to fulfill his end of the agreement.
A reporter and photographer from the Napa Valley Press arrived and were ushered to the morgue conference room on the first floor. They were told they would likely have a major story to write about, but the investigation was in a sensitive phase. Against the promise of an important scoop, they took seats and waited.
Vail stood to stretch when her BlackBerry buzzed. She nonchalantly read the display. That’s it. “Text message. From the offender—”
package taped to silver ridge sign for you. cute trick with the email agent vail. don’t deceive me again.
Vail read it to the group.
“Let’s get a fix on him,” Dixon said. “Triangulate that text.”
Lugo grabbed the phone and started dialing.
“What’s the point?” Vail said. “If he left something for us at Silver Ridge, we know where he was—or is. Why don’t we check in with Gordon, see if Guevara has moved?”
“On it,” Brix said.
Dixon said, “Ray, cancel the triangulation and get the closest LEO over to Silver Ridge ASAP. Call CHP, see if an officer’s near. Or contact NSIB. Just get someone there fast.”
A moment later, Brix ended his call. “Gordon went in and eyeballed Guevara after I sent him over there. No one’s been in or out of Superior since. While we were on the phone, he checked in on him again. Still there.”
“CHP was nearby,” Lugo said, hanging up his phone. “They’re about to pick up the package at Silver Ridge. I told him to take photos before he picks it up. But you think—should we call in EOD, at least alert the HDTs we may have a job for them?”
“HDTs?” Vail asked.
“Hazardous Device Technicians,” Dixon said. “They handle all suspicious packages for the Explosives Ordnance Division.”
Although this offender had not yet shown any proclivity toward bombs, it was always an option for your friendly neighborhood narcissist looking to grab attention. Vail was about to weigh in when Dixon spoke up.
“Let’s first see what the package looks like before we call out the troops.”
A moment later, they had their answer: A photo came to the sheriff’s department in an email from the officer on-scene. The phone rang and Lugo picked it up. “Yeah, patch her through.” He covered the receiver and said, “The officer’s on the line. Putting it on speaker.”
“Hello? This is Davina Erickson with CHP. I just sent you a photo—”
“This is Roxxann Dixon, Major Crimes Task Force. We’ve got the photo.” She bent over the laptop and scrutinized the image. “Looks like a USB flash drive. Is that what it is?”
“Yes, ma’am. Secured with masking tape to the Silver Ridge landmark sign.”
“Okay,” Dixon said. “Carefully remove the tape and preserve any fingerprints that might be on it. Secure the area as a crime scene. I’ll send a CSI to document it. But get that flash drive over to us as fast as you can.”
“Lights and siren, got it,