McCaleb opened the car door. Before getting out, he shook Lockridge’s hand and told him again that he had been a lot of help.
“Okay, I’m out of here.”
“Sure thing, man, have a good one.”
“Oh, hey, know what? I’ll probably be doing a lot of driving. You mind if I borrow one of those harps you got?”
“Take your pick.”
He fished around in the door storage pocket and came out with three harmonicas. McCaleb picked the one he had been playing during the drive the other night along the coast highway.
“That’s a good one. You start with the key of C.”
“Thanks, Buddy.”
“You sure took your sweet-ass time,” Winston said as McCaleb walked up to her desk. “I’ve been wondering where the hell you’ve been.”
“I’ve been dicking around at the impound yard for an hour,” McCaleb responded. “I can’t believe you people. You take my car on a bullshit warrant and I have to pay towing and impound fees. A hundred and eighty bucks. There is no justice in this world, Jaye.”
“Look, just be lucky they didn’t lose it and you got it back in one piece. Have a seat. I’m not quite ready.”
“Then what’re you complaining about me being late for?”
She didn’t answer. McCaleb took the chair at the side of her desk and watched as she went through a typed report, apparently proofreading and then initialing the bottom of each page.
“Okay,” she said. “I was going to use one of the interview rooms. The tape’s already set up. Shall we?”
“Wait a sec. What’s happened since last night?”
“Oh, that’s right. You haven’t been around.”
“You get any prints off the light tubes?”
She broke into a smile and nodded.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” McCaleb protested. “What did you get?”
“Everything. Two palms, both thumbs, four fingers. We put it on the box and got a hit. Our boy is local. Name is Daniel Crimmins, thirty-two years old. And you remember that profile you did for the Code Killer task force? Well you were dead-on, McCaleb. A slam dunk.”
McCaleb was beside himself with energy, though he outwardly tried to remain calm. The last pieces of the puzzle were dropping into place. He tried to recall the suspect’s name from the case files but drew a blank.
“Tell me.”
“He was an LAPD Academy washout. That was five years ago. As near as we can tell, since then he’s had a number of private security jobs. I don’t mean tin badge stuff. Computer stuff. He advertised on the Internet, had a web page, sent mailers to businesses. He basically sold computer security. We’re hearing that he sometimes got work by hacking into a company’s computer and then sending the CEO E-mail telling him how easy it was and why they should hire him to make their system hack-proof.”
“BOPRA?”
“You got it. We’ve got a team over there now but they called in a little while ago. There’s an executive who remembers getting E-mail from Crimmins last year. But he blew it off as a prank. He killed the message and never got another one. But it shows that Crimmins was inside BOPRA.”
McCaleb nodded.
“Anybody get his LAPD file yet?”
“Yeah, Arrango. He’s being a prick with it, dealing it out on a need-to-know basis. But basically the guy lasted five months. Reason for his termination was-quote-failure to thrive in the collegial atmosphere of the academy. Translation: the guy was an introvert who would never last in a squad car. No partner would take him. So they washed him out. The problem for him was he was second generation. His old man retired up to Blue Heaven ten years ago. Uhlig had someone in the Idaho field office look dad up. He said as far as he knew, his son was currently on the LAPD. He didn’t know Danny boy had been a washout because Danny boy didn’t tell him. He says he hasn’t seen his son in something like five or six years but when they talk on the phone, the boy always has good war stories.”
“Yeah, they’re just made up.”
McCaleb saw that it all fit. The authority complex. Crimmins had transferred it from the father to the LAPD after he was washed out. The expulsion from the academy could have provided the psychic break that turned a harmless fantasy life into a deadly pastime. The murders were all on LAPD turf. He was showing the institution that deemed him unworthy just how smart, clever and worthy he was.
It occurred to McCaleb that when he had profiled the Code Killer three years before, he had suggested that dismissed officers and academy washouts be questioned as a priority. As far as he knew, that had been done.
“Wait. This guy should have been questioned back then. Failed law enforcement career was in the profile.”
“He was questioned. That’s why Arrango is dicking around with the file. Somehow, Crimmins passed the test. He was interviewed by a team from the task force but he didn’t raise an eyebrow or warrant a second look. Still, it must’ve scared him. He was interviewed four weeks after the last Code killing. Maybe it’s the reason he stopped.”
“Probably. Still, it’s not going to look very good when it comes out this guy was interviewed and skated.”
“Too fucking bad. I say, let the chips fall. We’ve got the press conference scheduled for three o’clock.”
McCaleb considered what she had said about the killing stopping after Crimmins had been interviewed. He felt a thrill of satisfaction that it might have been his directive to interview academy washouts that had halted the killings. While he was savoring the thought, Winston opened a file and took a color photo off a stack of them. She handed it to him. It showed Crimmins in his academy uniform. Clean cut, clean shaven, a thin face and hopeful eyes that seemed to betray his confidence. It was as if he knew when the photo was taken that he would not make it, that there would be no graduation photo.
“So it looks like when he was Noone, there was not much of a disguise used,” he said. “The glasses and something inside his cheeks to make his face look fuller.”
“Right. Probably because he knew he would have direct contact with cops and a full-on disguise would show.”
“Can I keep this?”
“Sure, we’ll be giving them out today.”
“What’s next? You got addresses?”
“Nothing good. The warehouse you already found was the only thing current. But there’s got to be another place. His web page was still operational even after we unplugged the warehouse. It means he’s got another computer somewhere. Running as we speak.”
“Can’t they just trace the phone line in?”
“He’s got an anonymous provider.”
“What’s that?”
“Anything going to or from the web page goes through this anonymous provider of Internet access. We can’t trace and we can’t crack open the provider because of First Amendment bullshit. Besides, the expert over at the bureau, Bob Clearmountain, told me guys like him now use microwaves instead of hardwire phone lines. Makes it harder to trace and locate.”
The technology was beyond McCaleb. He changed the subject.
“You going to ID him at the press conference?”
“Think so. We’ll get the photo out, show the hypnotism video, see what it brings. By the way, Keisha Russell at the Times. Did you tip her off?”
“I owed her the call. She helped me at the beginning of this thing. I left her a voice mail this morning. Thought I’d give her a head start on it. Sorry.”
“No, that’s okay. I like her. I needed to talk to her anyway. Nevins told me what you said last night, about it probably being our guy who sent the letter that prompted the story about you in the Times. ”
“Right. Did she keep the letter?”
“No. She only remembered it was signed Bob something or other. It was probably him. He had this thing so wired.”
McCaleb suddenly thought of something. Graciela had told him that she had not become aware of the Times story on him until a man who claimed he had worked with Glory called and told her of the story. She then went to the library to read it. McCaleb realized that the caller could have been Crimmins setting his plan into motion.