Freezing

was telling the truth, he was linked to the death of Katherine Alston but wasn’t responsible for the body parts they had found on the freeway, so likely had nothing to do with the crimes in Georgia. Scott’s mind raced. The Vehicle Identification Numbers on the dash and door of the van had been mutilated, which meant finding the registered owner would take time because the Crime Lab would have to dismantle the vehicle to locate the confidential VIN on the van’s frame. So if Wayne was telling the truth, they needed a description of his car and they needed a description of the man now driving it because that person was the real owner of the van. Scott glanced at Eric, who nodded and spoke.

‘When exactly, Wayne?’

Wayne’s focus came back to Eric but now he looked more petulant. ‘A couple of days. He swore it was clean.’

‘His name, Wayne. What’s his name?’

‘He doesn’t have a name.’

‘What do you mean, he doesn’t have a name?’

Wayne smiled. ‘I know his screen name.’

Eric had begun pacing around the room. Scott assumed his partner shared his impatience. If this man with no name really existed, he had eluded them again and they were spinning their wheels on the Freeway Case by interrogating Spicer for so long.

‘What are you talking about, Wayne?’ Eric sounded tense.

‘I met him on off-the-grid-dot-net.’

‘A website?’

‘The website. I’ve been getting tips there for when I go off . . . with Katie. No one will be able to find us. We’ll just be on a road trip all the time. Lots of people are doing it.’

‘OK. What’s his screen name?’

‘Tripper.’ Wayne sounded like he was boasting. ‘You won’t find him. He’s a Level Three. You never find those guys. They find you.’

‘So Tripper’s driving your car now, Wayne?’

He nodded.

‘Describe the car.’

Wayne put his hands back on the table and looked back at Scott for the first time. He became serious.

‘Only if you leave me and Katie alone.’

Scott looked at him. He tapped his pen on the tabletop as if he was considering opening negotiations but he was actually thinking about the fact that a serial killer was still on the highways. They needed to post a nationwide All Points Bulletin for ‘Tripper’ and the car without delay. He didn’t convey this through body language, only shrugging and looking towards Eric to draw Wayne’s eyes back there. Eric crossed to the table, looking at Wayne curiously.

‘Are you trying to bargain, Wayne?’

‘Well, yeah. I mean, you need me.’ He laughed uncertainly, seeming confused by the new edge in the agent’s voice.

Eric rested his palms on the table and brought his face down to Wayne’s ear. The angle was sharp and Wayne couldn’t turn his head to keep eye contact.

‘That’s where you’re wrong,’ Eric all but whispered. ‘If you don’t tell us, we’re going to track it down in the California DMV archives and your old registration is going to be right there, which will lead us straight to your car. Give it up, Wayne. There is no bargaining.’

Wayne looked back at Scott and then closed his eyes. He started to rock side to side in his seat like a schoolchild who needs to go to the bathroom.

‘Look at me, Wayne.’ Eric’s voice was firm as he stepped away.

Wayne looked but his lips were moving, forming silent words.

‘You’re not getting out of this.’

Wayne kept rocking and looked at the door. He was smiling and rocking. ‘Katie. Katie.’

As Scott watched him, he realized he believed Wayne. Tripper existed and Katie had been Wayne’s most cherished possession. He knew how to break him down. Scott leaned back in his chair and spoke.

‘They’ve cut her up, Spicer.’

Wayne stopped murmuring and rocking and squinted hard at Scott, who continued.

He smiled at Wayne. ‘You knew that, right?’ He pulled his chair up to the desk and looked at the file folder before speaking again, keeping his voice mild.

‘She’s not your Katie anymore, Spicer. She’s Katherine and they’ve cut her down her middle.’

‘You’re lying!’ Wayne spat out the words, saliva landing on the table in tiny, bursting bubbles.

Scott shook his head. ‘We saw her. Right before we came over here this morning.’

Wayne shook his head, faster and faster.

‘You know why they had to cut her up, right?’

Wayne looked at him, his mouth open in wonder.

‘Because of you.’ Scott shrugged. ‘If you hadn’t abducted and killed her, that never would have happened.’

Wayne shut his eyes tight and sucked in his lips.

‘How do you think they worked out who she was? They had to cut her up, check her out. Had to look at her bones – all that pretty flesh was no use. Didja know that, Spicer?’ Scott’s voice rose as he continued. ‘She’s not your Katie. She’s just a girl whose teeth are more important than everything else about her now.’ He was shouting now. ‘They took her teeth right out, Spicer. Cut ’em right out of her head.’

‘NO!’ Wayne shouted and pounded the table. ‘No!’

Scott stood up and leaned on the table, staring at Wayne’s face, which was screwed up tight, tears and sweat mingling on his quivering cheeks. He opened his eyes as though the room was too bright.

Scott caught his gaze and held it, speaking rapidly. ‘Her parents are going to pick her up. Ever think about her parents, Spicer? Huh? They’re taking her back home. By tomorrow, you won’t even be in the same state as her. Tell us about your car, Spicer. It’s just you now. Katie’s gone.’

Wayne looked panicked but couldn’t tear his eyes away from Scott, who decided that Wayne looked hungry for information and redemption.

‘Give us Tripper, Mr Spicer. Give us Tripper and you’re out of here for today. That means you can sit in the holding cell, which is right next to the morgue. Did you know that? You can spend one more night next to Katie. She’ll be next door. All wrapped up for her big trip tomorrow.’

Wayne wiped his face with his shirt. He struggled to form one word through his chattering teeth. ‘Please.’ Once he’d uttered it, he couldn’t stop. ‘Please. Please. Please.’

By the time Scott and Eric were back in the hallway outside the interview room, Scott was holding notes of Wayne Spicer’s description of Tripper, the alleged original owner of the van with the Georgia license plates. It didn’t differ significantly from the descriptions given by the witnesses in LA. Now, they just needed his real name.

They’d also obtained a description of Wayne’s car and dispatched Phoenix Police Department uniformed officers to Prickly Pear Close to conduct interviews that could confirm or refute Wayne’s story about his trade with Tripper. Their next job was to interview Wayne Spicer to get the details of how he had abducted Katherine Alston from the Hollywood Freeway in 1999.

They started down the hall to their temporary office, swerving around local officers making their way between ends of the building. Two male officers, one with a short afro and the other redheaded, both appearing almost too young to be in employment, stopped them. Neither officer addressed the agents with any deference and the redhead was chewing gum that was visible when he spoke.

‘We’re just finishing the report on the search of the Spicer garage. Do you want a verbal?’

‘Yeah,’ Scott replied. ‘What’d you find?’

‘Nothing,’ replied the one with the afro.

‘What do you mean by “nothing”?’

‘The guy’s a computer freak. He doesn’t own anything besides a huge chest freezer – totally clean – a fast computer, and some clothes. And, oh yeah, we deduced that he’s still into Halloween.’