Crush - Alan Jacobson [35]
VALLEJO, CALIFORNIA, was a straight shot south down Highway 29, a fifteen-minute ride under normal circumstances. But with her lightcube flashing, Dixon downed her sandwich in four minutes and arrived at the Vallejo Police Department seven minutes after that.
Vallejo is part of the San Francisco Bay Area, one of the more expensive regions in the country in which to live. But Vallejo, at the lower end of the income spectrum, provided affordable housing for those not able to purchase the more ritzy addresses of a Silicon Valley or North Bay neighborhood. Still, its location, on San Pablo Bay and within a short drive of the Napa Valley as well as the greater Bay Area, provided picturesque views and prime weather patterns.
Home to the Six Flags Discovery Kingdom, the decommissioned Mare Island Naval Shipyard, and the third largest Filipino American population in the United States, the city has the little-known distinction of briefly serving as California’s state capital from 1852 to 1853.
“You’re very quiet,” Dixon said.
“Just thinking.”
“You clammed up soon as I told you we were headed to Vallejo. I’m betting you’re dialed into the Zodiac. Concerned our case is related.”
Vallejo was the site, four decades ago, of two victims of the Zodiac killer. The Zodiac was never apprehended, and the investigation, which was mothballed in 2004, was reopened in 2007. In 2009, a woman came forward claiming her deceased father had been the killer and that she had been present during some of the murders.
“Regardless of his true identity,” Vail said, “he’s either dead or incarcerated. He’s been inactive for forty years. Besides, MO’s different. Ritual’s all wrong.” She unbuckled as Dixon parked. “But yeah, that’s what I’ve been thinking about.”
They walked into the police department and headed to the Detective Division. “Still, there are similarities,” Vail said. “Zodiac was a narcissist, just like our UNSUB. He contacted the police after his kills, claiming credit. Mailed cryptograms to the newspapers.”
“I’ve heard the stories,” Dixon said. “Before my time.”
As they walked into the Detective Division, Ray Lugo caught their attention from across the room. Vail and Dixon headed toward him.
“Oh, Jesus,” Dixon said under her breath.
Vail looked at her, but before she could inquire about the remark, another man, seated behind Lugo, rose from his chair. Dark complected, possibly Asian, maybe Filipino.
“Well, well, well,” the man said. “If it isn’t Buff Barbie.”
“Eddie,” Dixon said, a surprisingly measured and civil response. “Should’ve known you’d be here.”
Vail sensed a failed relationship. She watched them staring at one another, that awkward look pregnant with transparent communication.
“Well,” she finally said, “I’m Special Agent Karen Vail. FBI. I take it you’re Eddie.”
He kept his eyes on Dixon but extended his hand in Vail’s direction. “Detective Eddie Agbayani.” He finally pulled his gaze over to Vail as they shook. “Good to meet you.”
“So where’s this new vic?” Vail asked.
Lugo held up a case file. “Probable new victim.” He handed Vail the manila folder. “Before I went over to Kevin Cameron’s, I sent out a text blast to all my LEO buddies,” he said, using the acronym for Law Enforcement Officer. “I’ve lived here all my life, I’ve got a fair number of law enforcement contacts. I figured you never know, something may turn up.”
“And it did,” Agbayani said. “Almost three years ago we found a DB in South Vallejo, in a tony neighborhood. It was a body dump. The area’s got the most expensive real estate in the city, so it scared the crap out of them. We never solved it.”
“And what ties it to our UNSUB?” Vail asked.
“Severed breasts and missing toenail,” Lugo said. “That’s what I put in the text message. I thought, of all things that’s unique about this killer, that sums it up.”
Vail opened the case file. “Good thinking, Ray. Exactly right.” She backed off to a nearby chair while the other three talked. Vail heard snippets like “So how’ve you been?” that came from Agbayani, followed by Dixon’s response,