“James Cannon.”
“Cannon . . . ” Rolando said as he scrolled down the list.
“Know him?”
Rolando typed, frowned, then typed some more. “Big dude?”
“That probably describes half the guys in this gym,” Dixon said with a grin. “But, yeah.”
“All we’ve got is a cell. That work?”
Dixon pulled out a pad and pen, then craned her neck to look at the screen. “You’re a lifesaver, Rolando.”
Rolando leaned back, but his eyes remained riveted on Dixon’s well-defined cleavage.
Vail cleared her throat. She could’ve sworn Rolando gave her a dirty look—but it worked, because he momentarily diverted his eyes.
“How long has he been a member?” Vail asked.
He consulted his screen. “Looks like it’s been a while. Couple years.” Dixon clicked her pen shut. “Thanks, Rolando. Maybe you wanna spot me some day.”
“I’d—yeah, I’m sure I’ll spot you.” He chuckled. “The minute you walk in the door.”
Dixon returned a wink. “Catch you later.” She held up the pad. “Thanks again.”
As they headed toward the parking lot, Vail said, “You realize he’s gonna be all over you next time you come in to work out.”
“I’ll worry about that later. At least we got a number for Cannon.”
“Address, too?”
Dixon smiled devilishly. “Of course. But it’s the apartment on Soscol. Same one DMV had.”
Vail blew some air out the side of her mouth. “Okay. So how do you want to play this?”
Dixon glanced around at the cars in the vicinity. “I’ll text the cell to Brix, let him have NSIB follow up and try to grab an address from the wireless company. You call Cannon, remind him who you are, and tell him you’ve got some extra time. See if he wants to do lunch. He hit on you once, he’ll probably say yes.”
“He knows we’re cops. If he was working with Mayfield, why would he want to meet with me?”
“You tell me,” Dixon said as she reached into her pocket for her keys.
Vail looked off at the mountains. “If he’s like Mayfield, he’s a narcissist. In which case, this would be like a conquest for him. I initially rejected him, reconsidered, now I’m calling him. Crawling back is the way he’d see it. But,” Vail said, “that’s if he’s a narcissist. We can’t assume he is just because Mayfield was—but it would make sense. There’s a reason why they found each other. Kindred spirits. They understand each other’s needs, they think alike.”
Dixon started tapping out her text to Brix. “Given the conversation we had with them, it’s possible he is a narcissist.”
Vail considered that and replayed the meeting they had with the two men. “You were there for more of it than I was, but yeah, it’s possible. It could also be we’re reading into it, seeing what we want to see.”
“Guess we’ll find out.” Dixon popped open the doors and they got in.
Vail pulled her BlackBerry and dialed. Voice mail. Waited for the beep. “Jimmy, this is Karen Vail—we met a couple days ago in the gym and . . . well, I kind of blew you off. Sorry about that. I was there with my friend, and I couldn’t accept your offer with her there. I’m seeing her brother back in Virginia. Anyway, if you’re interested in catching lunch or dinner, or something else . . . ” she said, suggestively, “I’ll be here another few days. Give me a buzz back.”
She disconnected the call. “Hopefully he’ll respond. And if we’re lucky, his wireless carrier will come through. If he really is a wine maker, this can’t be a throwaway phone. And unless he thought to update the Fit1 records, which is unlikely, he’s had this number at least a couple years.”
Dixon shook her head. “Doesn’t make sense that he’d be involved with Mayfield. He’s got no cover. He’s totally exposed.”
“Could be he never intended to live that type of life,” Vail said. “But the way this relationship might go would be he meets Mayfield, Mayfield makes some comment that’s well received by Cannon, and they feel each other out to make sure one didn’t misunderstand the other. They find they’re of like mind. Cannon assists Mayfield in one of his kills and he gets off on it. He likes killing, it gives him a rush like nothing he’s ever experienced. Maybe they even talk about planning kills as a team.”
“What does that mean for Cannon with Mayfield temporarily out of the picture?”
Vail eyed a decorative stack of wine barrels by the parking lot entrance while she formulated an answer. “Until Cannon finds out about his buddy being caught, we’re probably safe. But once he hears Mayfield’s incapacitated, he may start killing on his own, at first just to prove to himself he can do it. Once he discovers he can, the only thing that’s gonna stop him is us.” Her BlackBerry began vibrating. She glanced at the screen. “This can’t be good.” Vail’s gaze flicked to Dixon. “My boss.” She answered the call and pressed the phone to her ear.
“Karen,” Thomas Gifford began. “I realize this comes at a bad time, but I’m afraid I have to interrupt your vacation.”
Vacation . . . oh, yeah. That’s what this was.
“In fact, Hernandez is gonna kill me for this,” Gifford continued, “but I need you back here ASAP—”
“Yeah,” Vail said. “About that. We’ve got a problem here, sir. I shoulda called you this morning, but it’s been a nightmare.”
“Don’t tell me you’re still working the Crush Killer. I specifically told you you’re off the case, and you assured me, Karen. You promised me—”
“It’s not what you think, sir.”
His volume leaped a notch. She could picture his face turning red through the phone. “It’s never what I think, is it?”
“Sir, listen to me—”
“No, you listen to me for once.”
“No sir. Just—just stop. You need to hear me out.” She took a deep breath, then felt Dixon’s hand on her shoulder. “Sir, give me a minute to explain. And if you still wanna go off on me, fine.” He was silent, so she continued. “We caught the Crush Killer last night. He was shot in the process and underwent surgery. He made it through but he’s in a coma.”
“If you think that’s an excuse—”
“During the day, I kept trying to reach Robby. But he wasn’t answering. Late last night I went to our room at the bed-and-breakfast. He wasn’t there. No sign of him at all. We’ve been looking for him since.”
“Have you alerted the local field office?”
“No. We’ve been following up leads on the Crush Killer.”
“Wait a second,” Gifford said. “Just hang on a second. You’ve lost me.”
His tone calmed, which was a good thing. Maybe he would understand. Help her out.
“I don’t get it. What’s the Crush Killer got to do with Hernandez?”
Vail closed her eyes. “Things weren’t adding up. I kept feeling we were missing something. But I didn’t know what. When we arrested him, I did the interview. He said to me, ‘There’s more to this than you know.’ And then one of the sergeants on the task force, Ray Lugo, burst into the room and shot him. A ricochet caught Lugo and killed him. During transport to the ER, he said John Mayfield, the Crush Killer, had, at some point in the past, kidnapped his wife and son. Lugo apparently cut a deal of some sort with Mayfield to keep his family safe. What kind of deal, what he was doing, we don’t know. And with Robby missing, and Mayfield saying there was more to this than we know . . . we can’t rule out the possibility his disappearance is somehow related to Mayfield.”
“And?” Gifford asked.
“We’re already running down a lead that suggests Mayfield may’ve had an accomplice. If we find this guy, we may find Robby. Or at least some info that might lead us to him.”