“What if he really is after Fitz?” one of the agents standing at the opposite end of the room called out.
Great. Like she needed any more negative attention, and she couldn’t help but glance at Scotty, thinking, if anything, he’d be using that as an excuse to get her pulled from the case. Dixon, however, continued on, unfazed. “The organized offender displays certain traits. He will often target the same type of victim-so it’s highly unlikely he is after Special Agent Fitzpatrick. I’d say it’s more likely that he has noted her name and called her simply to draw more attention to himself. In our case, he’s kidnapped two women, both from bars. One in Reno, the other here in the city. Although the Reno victim wasn’t a prostitute, she was frequenting a bar that is known for prostitution. Our Hill City victim appears to have been a prostitute, and there may be others we haven’t connected to him yet, and others we have, such as the series of Sunday rapes SFPD is investigating. Since fantasy and ritual usually dominate the organized offender, we look at the similarities in the known cases. Both victims were frequenting the same sort of bars, both dumped in shallow bodies of water, easily accessed by the public, yet in locations not likely to be frequented at late hours. He may have a fascination with water, or more likely thinks the water will help eliminate forensic evidence. He’s taken jewelry from the Reno victim, a souvenir. I expect, once we get the Hill City victim fully identified, we’ll learn he did the same with her. Both victims were bitten, and”-he looked at Carillo-“you mentioned we got a call from the forensic odontologist?”
Carillo nodded. “Received the fax this morning.” He pulled open his pocket notebook. “The report reads that our UnSub’s number eleven, maxillary left cuspid has a fractured mesial-incisal edge. For those of us who didn’t graduate from dental school, that translates to a chipped upper left canine, specifically the front corner. Oh, almost forgot,” he said, looking up. “Dr. Armand made a positive match to both victims.”
“There you have it,” Dixon said. “Once we have him identified, despite the lack of DNA, we’ve got some pretty damning evidence, including a suspect sketch, which, up until now, hasn’t been released to the local press, but has been sent to the surrounding agencies. Special Agent Fitzpatrick will be passing out copies with updated info.”
Sydney walked to the front of the room, opened the folder containing photocopies of the sketch and kept one, then handed the remaining stack to the agents at the front to pass back. “I’ve included the physical characteristics on the bottom,” she said. “We have this scanned, so if anyone needs a digital copy for some reason, let me know.”
Michael Schermer eyed the sketch. “Is there a reason for the delay in releasing this to the press?”
“Yes,” Dixon said. “We weren’t sure the cases were related. Reno PD released it in their area the moment we sent it to them, since the kidnapping occurred there. But now we believe our UnSub may also be from this area or have connections here, and we intend to hold a press conference. For now, we’re holding it back, until after tonight’s operation. We’ll reevaluate tomorrow. Any more questions before we get started on Operation Barfly?”
“Yeah,” Schermer said, eyeing the sketch. “Carillo was telling me that they found some bits of taillight out at Golden Gate Park and white paint transfer, and that you and Fitzpatrick saw a white utility truck out at the hospital. Any chance the two are related, being that both vehicles are white? Maybe the guy Fitz saw driving the truck is this guy?” He held up the sketch.
Dixon said, “I didn’t actually see the truck. Fitzpatrick did. But Maggie took the pieces of taillight from Stow Lake to the lab to get a parts identification… Maggie?” She was seated at the table, and stood so everyone could hear her. “According to SFPD’s incident report of the suspicious person at the hospital, an Officer Harper described the vehicle as a newer model Chevy utility truck. That doesn’t match the bits of taillight found at the Stow Lake crime scene, which belong to a 1970s style of Dodge van. So, other than both are white, we are talking about two unrelated vehicles.”
Sydney stilled at the mention of the utility truck, not because of the possibility that the vehicles might have been related. It was more the feeling she recalled, of being watched that night, first at the bar she’d left, then later that night in the hospital parking lot as the truck drove by her… “That guy raced out of there so fast, we had to dive out of the way,” she whispered to Carillo.
“Which fits with a burglar, trying to get the hell out of there.”
And she realized that was entirely possible, that he could’ve just been trying to get out. A burglar fleeing the scene? Or something else altogether…
Her gaze flew to Scotty’s, and she found it curious he wouldn’t even look at her. How long had he and his team been watching her? Since she’d left the bar that night? She’d definitely thought she was being followed then. One of Scotty’s team?
She thought about the truck in the parking lot, the guy getting out, moving specifically to Dixon’s car after they’d gone into the hospital… They’d placed a GPS device on her car to keep track of her, so why not Dixon’s? What should have been a simple piece of surveillance work failed because they hadn’t realized she’d be watching from the window. Unfortunately, before she could walk over and ask Scotty, Dixon called for everyone to open up his op plan, which contained all contact info, personnel, cars assigned, cell phone numbers, and hospital locations, in essence, operation plans for everything they’d need should the shit hit the fan. “As you can see,” he said, “we’re expecting this to be lowkey. Schermer has an update on our UnSub that just came in. Michael?”
“I went out this afternoon, talked to the bartender who called us to say he overheard a couple talking about Fitzpatrick’s drawing. Turns out the bartender’s not the one who heard it, like we thought when we got the call. He heard someone talking about someone who heard it.”
“Great,” Carillo said. “Won’t be any hearsay issues there.”
“The good news,” Schermer continued, “is that he thinks he can put you and Fitz in touch with someone who may know who it was that did the talking.”
“Getting murkier by the second,” Carillo whispered.
“Who’s supposed to meet up with us?” Sydney asked Schermer.
“Someone named Candy. That’s all we know. You’ll meet up with her at the Gold Ox, since that’s where our informant said she last saw the Jane Doe, who apparently went there, thinking higher-class place, more money from clients.”
She looked at Carillo and said, “If that’s high-class, wonder where it was she’d been working before.”
Dixon cut in with “Okay. That should cover everything. You two meet up with her, determine if she knows who it is you need to talk to. Get a name, see if it was our Jane Doe, hit the other area bars that our Jane Doe was seen in, pop open a beer in each, move to the next bar.”
“Do we get to drink the beer?” Carillo asked.
Dixon ignored his comment and said, “Also note that SFPD sent out a warning that a purse snatcher is still working the area, and if we catch him, they’d appreciate it. Just don’t blow this operation on a purse snatcher. Any questions from the support agents?”
No one had any, and Dixon told them to hit the streets.
29
Sydney made a beeline for Scotty, who was heading out the door and walking toward the elevator. “Scotty!” He stopped, and when she caught up to him, he said, “This is not a good time.”