She wondered if she could unstick her throat enough to talk; tried it. “Hello.” What a scintillating wit.
A click and a buzz, as the motorized wheelchair came toward her.
“Freddy, you finally get to meet my guardian angel. The girl—the woman, who saved my life.” He came closer. “I told you she was pretty, didn’t I? But pretty doesn’t do you justice now.”
Up close, Laura saw that his youth was an illusion. There was a little dip of flesh beneath the chin. His complexion was uneven, the elasticity lost, and there was something brittle around the eyelids. His eyes were bright, but hard too—the driest part of him.
“You know, Laura, I don’t think I ever thanked you.”
He was studying her—amused? Interested? Could he really be interested? Did quadriplegics have a sex drive? She had no idea.
“You’re staring.”
She stepped back. “I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay. I’m used to that. There’s always that awkward few minutes. Don’t be embarrassed.”
But his eyes pinned her like a butterfly to a board. “Mike said you need help tracking down a predator.”
Laura was relieved to talk about the case. “We think we have an Internet predator.” She started to fill him in on the Jessica Parris case, but he held up a hand.
“I watch the news. You’re very telegenic, by the way.” He smiled. Angelic. “Mike told me all about it. I don’t know what I can do to help. You have anything on this guy?”
From her briefcase, Laura removed the photocopies of the young man, the digital camera and jewelry, and the matchbook cover the killer had left at the band shell. She started to hand them to Jay, hesitated, and was relieved when he took them from her.
“Freddy?” Jay Ramsey said without looking in the attendant’s direction.
The soft-looking man bustled over, took the photocopy, and looked at it.
Jay asked, “This is the man?”
“He could be. It’s possible he killed a girl in California.”
Freddy said, “Definitely the southeast. Probably the Gulf Coast.”
“Freddy was born in Pensacola,” Ramsey explained. “What else?”
Freddy handed Laura the photocopy back. “Guy is almost too good-looking. That looks like a publicity photo.”
Laura said, “I’m thinking that if we could find the general area, we could link him through a talent or model agency.”
Jay Ramsey looked up at her. “Could happen.”
She found herself feeling unusually pleased.
Jay shifted in his chair, winced. “He sent her the camera and the jewelry.”
“The detective in Indio thinks he wanted her to take pictures of herself for him.”
He turned his attention to the photocopy of the matchbook. “CRZYGRL12. That’s interesting.” His chair buzzed around to the computer on the cherrywood desk.
“What’s interesting?” Laura asked.
“How old was that girl—Jessica?”
“Fourteen.”
Jay stared at the computer screen. To Laura’s limited knowledge, it appeared to be state-of-the-art. Ramsey spoke, but did not look at her. “The number 12 after her screen name—that usually means her age. And since it’s human nature for teenagers to want to appear older, I sincerely doubt this girl would lower her age by two years.”
“What are you saying?”
He looked straight ahead at the computer. “Jessica Parris isn’t CRZYGRL12.”
“You think he contacted another girl?”
“That’s the most likely scenario.”
“He came to Bisbee looking for another girl.” Her mind was moving now, all self-consciousness forgotten. “But what happened to her?”
Ramsey’s body flinched, and he rolled his head on the backrest of his chair. “A few things, I imagine. He kidnapped her and killed her. He took her and kept her with him. Or he never got to her.”
“There are no missing children that I’m aware of.”
“Then he probably never met up with her.”
Jay Ramsey said, “I have a question for you.”
“Okay.”
