“This info’s a game changer,” Agbayani said. “We now have three people on this winery board who were against Superior getting this contract renewal. Two of the three end up dead. Although it doesn’t explain the fact that our male vic, Isaac Jenkins, wasn’t on the board.”
Dixon shook her head. “Even though Todd Nicholson was the board member, it might as well have been Isaac Jenkins, because the person who was really calling the shots was Jenkins. So the killer knew this somehow and got rid of Jenkins to clear the way for Superior to get the contract.”
“Whoa,” Vail said, holding up a hand. “You’re jumping to conclusions. We don’t know that.”
“It does look kind of obvious,” Dixon said.
Vail rubbed a hand across her mouth. “No. I mean, yes, it looks obvious. But something’s not right. Something isn’t adding up.”
“What’s the huddle about?”
It was Brix, walking down the hall.
Dixon angled away from the doorway. In a low voice, she said, “We’re discussing some new info we got from a witness.” She canted her head, indicating Wirth sitting in the break room.
Brix’s eyes flicked past her to their witness. “Well, let’s do it in the conference room. I’ve got a techie waiting for us who’s gonna go over texting stuff. I’ve been trying to get her in to talk to us, and she’s billing the department a hundred fifty an hour. So if you’re done with this guy, kick him loose and meet me in there.”
Dixon and Vail rejoined Wirth in the break room.
“Ian,” Dixon said, “we have a meeting we’ve got to get to. But you started to say something about Isaac hiring an attorney.”
“Yeah. I don’t know if it means anything, but he was looking at suing to get Crystal removed from the board.”
“Remove Crystal—why?”
“You’d have to ask him. But I got the sense Victoria was involved with the attorney, too.”
“The attorney’s name?”
Wirth pulled his Windows Mobile Phone from its holster and poked at the screen. He scrolled, poked again, and said, “Marc Benezra. Downtown Napa.”
Dixon wrote down the name. “Okay. Now listen to me, Ian.” She shoved the pad back into her jacket pocket, then looked up at Wirth. “We’re not sure what’s going on here, with your board, and the players involved in its business dealings. But something’s amiss. I can’t say any more. But you seem like a good guy. Keep a low profile for now. Don’t tell anyone you met with us. Don’t say anything to anyone. Okay?”
Wirth looked at Dixon out of the corner of his eye. “Should I be . . . concerned?”
“A little bit,” Vail said. “No one’s said anything to anyone about you specifically. But just . . . be careful.” She glanced at Dixon, then turned back to Wirth. “Ian, if we tell you something, do we have your word you won’t tell anyone? And I mean, anyone. No one.”
Wirth studied her face. His cheeks sprouted sweat. “I’m not sure I like the sound of this.”
“I can understand that,” Vail said. “I need you to summon those cop instincts you developed being around your father.”
He bit his bottom lip and spoke with it sandwiched between his teeth. “Okay.”
Vail leaned forward and held his gaze. “Remember we talked about Victoria’s stroke? Well, Isaac also had a stroke.”
Wirth’s mouth fell open. “Are you saying—”
“I’m saying he had a stroke,” Vail said. “Now, given that information, I want to reiterate that we have no direct information indicating you’re in danger . . . of also having one. Having said that, of the three people who opposed Superior’s contract renewal, two are now dead. Be aware of your surroundings. Be careful. If something doesn’t seem right, you call us. Okay?”
Wirth nodded without saying a word.
“Can we get him a uni to keep an eye on him?” Vail asked.
“I’ll have to ask. I don’t know if the sheriff will go for that.”
“I have private security,” Wirth said. “For the winery. Retired Secret Service. I’ll take care of it.”
Dixon called over to a deputy who was standing across the room at the coffee maker. “Greg, can you escort Mr. Wirth out?”
“Hang on to my number,” Dixon said. “Remember, call if you need anything. Anything.”
Wirth nodded uncertainly, then walked out with Greg.
“You’re worried about the guy,” Dixon said.
“His colleagues have been brutally murdered. And no one knows. The rest of them don’t even know to be careful, that someone might be targeting them. I think we may need to get them all together and level with them.”
“If we do, it’ll be all over the news. If we’re going to do that, let me find a way of using it to our advantage . . . as a way to catch this jerkoff.”
Vail watched as Wirth disappeared into the stairwell. “You’d better think of something fast.”
“We’re all set,” Dixon said.
Vail, a dozen feet down the hall, was tapping out a note to Jonathan. “Excellent. Can you tell Brix I’ll be right in? I’ve just gotta finish this email.”
“Roxxi, you got a minute?” It was Eddie Agbayani, coming down the hall.
Dixon turned. “What’s up?”
Agbayani stopped in front of her and shoved his hands in his rear pockets. He looked down at his feet.
Vail sensed the awkward tension and glanced up from her email.
“When this is over,” Agbayani said, “when we catch this guy, maybe we could have dinner. Talk. Just the two of us.”
Roxxann rubbed at her brow. “I don’t know, Eddie. Yes. Maybe . . .” She shook her head. “Let me think about it, okay?”
“Is that where we’re at? You have to think about whether we can sit down and talk?”
“Eddie, I can’t do this. Not now. Let me—yes. I’m sorry. You’re right, we should talk. As soon as we get some time, let’s have dinner.”
Vail shoved her BlackBerry in its holster, then pushed through the conference room door. The rest of the task force was there—Mann, Gordon, Lugo, and Brix. And a woman they hadn’t yet met; presumably, she was the person they were there to see.
A moment later, Dixon and Agbayani entered and took their seats.
Brix stood at the front of the room by the whiteboard. Their assignments were still laid out in colors. A few had lines through them, while others were encircled because they were still pending resolution. Unfortunately, there were more circles than lines.
In the fluorescent lighting, Brix’s sun-weathered, deeply lined face looked ashen. He resembled a man who was carrying the weight of several deaths on his shoulders—the unsolved murder of his boss’s son and the pressure of going public with the Crush Killer versus the impact of keeping it under wraps. And time was running out before the decision might be made for him. Once that happened, his stress would increase several fold as the media descended on him.
Vail felt the same pressure. Billed as the expert in solving this case—the serial killer tracker, the famed profiler who has helped break the most heinous of crimes—she was impotent to provide useful, hard information that would lead to the apprehension of this offender. Making matters worse, she could not get a handle on what she was missing. And she was undoubtedly missing something.
Brix cleared his throat. “I’ve asked Austin Mann and Burt Gordon to stay on with us a bit longer, even though their work on the arson is largely done. We can use the manpower, and I’d rather not bring in fresh bodies that have to get up to speed. Hopefully we’re closer to catching this UNSUB than we think.” He extended his right arm
