“Yeah, it’s part of my signature, at the bottom of all my messages.”
Brix raised his hands, palm up. “Then who the hell knows how he got it. Sending email is like putting an open envelope in the mail.”
Vail nodded. She couldn’t argue that.
Brix yawned, threw up a hand to cup his mouth. “I also have an ID on the female we found this morning. Or was that yesterday? I’m so fucking tired I can’t remember anymore.” He forced his eyes open wider, then said, “Name’s Dawn Zackery. Thirty-two, single. And before you ask, no connection to the Georges Valley board.”
Dixon looked at Vail. “I’m beginning to think that board is a dead end.”
Vail stared out at the countryside. “Maybe, maybe not. If we haven’t got anything else to pursue, then we’ll turn over some rocks, see what we can find.”
Brix began bouncing his knee. “I was thinking there was an angle we should look into first, something we kind of overlooked.”
Dixon cocked her head. “And that is . . .”
“There’s a guy,” Brix said. “Someone we questioned early on. Scott actually wanted to bring him back in and talk to him. I resisted.”
Vail brushed a lock of red hair behind her ear. “Why?”
“Well. . . .” He hesitated, then said, “Because he’s an employee of Silver Ridge.” He held up a hand. “I know what you’re gonna say, and before you say it, you’re right. I’ve got a conflict, and I think it colored my judgment on this. I’m sorry.”
Vail waved it off. It wasn’t something to be glossed over, but Brix came clean and there was nothing to be gained making him feel guilty about his error. “So this employee. Who is he?”
“The guy who found the body. Miguel Ortiz.”
Vail leaned back. “I remember him. He gave me his flashlight. He seemed genuinely freaked by what he found. Then again, I didn’t exactly have my guard up. I was on vacation. Could’ve just been an act, to deflect attention off himself.”
Brix held out a hand. “There you go. Does he fit the profile?”
Vail bobbed her head about. “He’s about the right age. Although the vast majority of serial killers are Caucasian, there have been a fair number of Hispanics. I can think of five just off the top of my head. That said, Ortiz is a low-level employee without the kind of access to information and people that our UNSUB’s exhibited. From what I’ve seen, our offender is a much more complex killer.”
“You thought of him, why?” Dixon asked.
Brix’s eyes narrowed. “Not sure. Just a feeling. When I questioned him at the scene, he wouldn’t look at me. He seemed very nervous.”
“Maybe he knew you were one of the owners,” Dixon said, “and he felt intimidated.”
Brix twisted his lips. “Maybe. But he was the one who found Victoria’s body. And Scott did a little checking before he—well, he did a little checking and he found that Ortiz didn’t have an alibi for the other murders up to that point. But Ray thought we were wasting our breath. He just didn’t think this was our guy.”
“Because?”
“He said if there was a murderous Mexican looney on the loose, he would’ve heard about it in his community. He seemed pretty adamant that going after Ortiz was a waste of time.”
“Serial killers are not ‘looney,’” Vail said. “They’re not insane or ‘off their rockers.’ They know what they’re doing. Their actions are very purposeful. And they know murder is against the law. They just don’t care.”
“I checked with the HR person at Silver Ridge. She sees him from time to time when he’s in the cave, rinsing the floors and washing out pails. According to her, he’s always on time, works very hard and sends money back home to his sick mother. And if he needs something, like medical care, he pays for it. He doesn’t live off the state. For what it’s worth, in her words, he’s harmless. A man with a good heart.”
Vail smirked. “No offense to your HR administrator, but let’s leave the threat assessment to us.”
Brix shifted his weight on the bench. “There’s something else about Ortiz.” He paused a moment. “About an hour ago, when Agbayani arrived, I handed him the Ortiz lead and asked him to look into it. As soon as he heard the name, he thought it sounded familiar. Turns out Ortiz was a suspect in the Vallejo murder, Maryanne Bernal.”
Dixon leaned forward. “No shit?”
Brix held up a finger. “Hang on a second. Before you get all excited, it was just an eyewitness account of a big guy with a white pickup. They picked him up and questioned him. He’s got ties to Vallejo, a brother who lives there.”
“An offender may dump a body in an area he’s familiar with,” Vail said.
Brix waved a hand. “Doesn’t matter. It went nowhere. They had nothing on him. And he had no record, not so much as a misde-meanor. And he was one of about forty-five guys they ended up questioning who matched the description.”
“So what did Agbayani think about Ortiz popping up again in connection with a murder investigation?” Vail asked.
“It wouldn’t have been that big a deal. Except that someone fitting Ortiz’s description was seen in the area at the time Isaac Jenkins was killed.”
Vail lifted a brow. “You knew this? Why didn’t you move on him?”
Brix let his gaze linger on Vail’s. “I found out right around the time Scott was killed. We’ve been a little busy.”
Vail held his gaze and didn’t blink.
“Still,” Dixon said, breaking the silent confrontation, “like what happened in Vallejo, a lot of guys fit his general description, so one witness account doesn’t necessarily mean anything. Unless she picks him out of a lineup.”
“She didn’t see his face, only his body.”
“His body?” Dixon sighed. “Make that a
Brix shrugged. “It’s probably not worth pursuing.”
Vail slid her legs from beneath the cement table. “You’ve got a feeling about this. And we’ve got questions. I think we should go check it out. I’ll call the AVA board president and tell her we need some more time.”
Dixon rose as well. “Is Ortiz at Silver Ridge?”
Brix pushed himself off the cement bench as if he was lifting a heavy weight. “He’s not working today. But he rents a room from a family off West Spain in downtown Sonoma.”
“The male vic, Jenkins, he was from Sonoma.”
“I’m aware of that,” Brix said.
“How can we be sure Ortiz is going to be there?”
“I called the homeowner and she said Ortiz is home. She thinks he’s sleeping.”
“Does he know we’re coming?” Dixon asked.
Brix shook his head. “If he is our guy—and I’m not ready to say that—then telling him we’re coming by to question him may set him off. No, we’ll go in quietly.”
Vail led the way to the staircase, then glanced up one more time to grab a view of the vineyards. It was so peaceful up here. She hadn’t felt an inner sense of tranquility since the day she and Robby arrived here. Her first visit to the Napa Valley, and it was marred by the rampage of a serial killer. Could she ever visit this place again and not be poisoned by memories of this case? It was a rhetorical thought. She already knew the answer.
“How do you know his landlord didn’t tip him off?” Dixon asked.
Dixon’s voice, echoing in the stairwell, pulled Vail out of her reverie. She realized she had spaced out, staring at the vineyards and mountains, smelling the soil-wet air. As she started down the steps, she heard Brix’s voice somewhere below.
“I explained that we didn’t want to make any trouble for her. But short answer is, we don’t.”
Vail’s “short answer”—to her own rhetorical question—was more visceral. The magical Napa Valley would never be the same for her. The Crush Killer had ruined it.
