see?”
Winston scanned the page.
“I don’t know. It’s just a list of-the cross earring?”
“Right. It’s not there. He took it.”
“The patrolman?”
“No. The shooter. The shooter took her earring.”
A puzzled look came across Winston’s face. She wasn’t following the logic. She hadn’t had the same experiences or seen the same things that McCaleb had. She didn’t see it for what it was.
“Wait a minute,” she said. “How do you know he took it? It could have just fallen off and gotten lost.”
“No. I’ve talked to the victim’s sister and I’ve talked to the hospital and the paramedics.”
He knew this was exaggerating his investigation into this aspect but he needed to pin Winston down. He couldn’t give her a way out or a way to any other conclusion than his own conclusion.
“The sister says the earring had a safety hasp. It is unlikely that it fell off. Even if it did, the paramedics didn’t find it on the stretcher or in the ambulance, and they didn’t find it at the hospital. He took it, Jaye. The shooter. Besides, if it was going to fall off, despite the safety hasp, it probably would have been when he fired the round. You saw the impact on the head. If the earring was going to come loose, it would have been then. Only it didn’t. It was taken off.”
“Okay, okay, what if he did take it? I’m not saying I believe it yet, but what are you saying it means?”
“It means everything changes. It means this wasn’t about a robbery. She wasn’t just an innocent nobody who walked into the wrong place at the wrong time. It means she was a target. She was prey.”
“Oh, come on. She… What are you trying to do, turn this into a serial killer or something?”
“I’m not trying to turn it into anything. It is what it is. And it’s been that way all along. Only you people-we, I mean-didn’t see it for what it was.”
Winston turned away from him and walked toward the corner of the room shaking her head. She then turned back to him.
“Okay, you tell me what you’re seeing here. Because I’m just not seeing it. I’d love to go to the LAPD and tell those two jerks that they fucked up but I’m just not seeing what you’re seeing.”
“Okay, let’s start with the earring itself. Like I said, I talked to the sister. She said Glory Torres wore this particular earring every day. She played around with the others, switched them, used different combinations, but never the cross. It was always there. Every day. It had the obvious religious implications but for lack of a better description, it was also her good luck charm. Okay? You with me so far?”
“So far.”
“Okay, now let’s just assume that the shooter took it. Like I said, I talked to the hospital and the fire department, and it hasn’t showed up anywhere. So let’s assume he took it.”
He opened his hands and held them up, waiting. Winston reluctantly nodded her agreement.
“So then let’s look at that from two angles. How? And why? The first one is easy. Remember the video. He shot her and let her rebound off the counter and then fall back into him and then down to the floor, outside the view of the camera. He could take the earring then without being seen.”
“You’re forgetting one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“The Good Samaritan. He wrapped her head up. Maybe he took it.”
“I thought about that. It’s not beyond possibility. But it’s less likely than it being the shooter. The Good Samaritan is the random player in this. Why would he take it?”
“I don’t know. Why would the shooter?”
“Well, like I said, that’s a question. But look at the item that was taken. A religious icon, good luck charm. She wore it every day. It was a personality signature, its personal significance more important than its monetary value.”
He waited a beat. He had just given her the setup. Now came the closing pitch. Winston was fighting on this but McCaleb hadn’t lost sight of her skills as an investigator. She would see what he was saying. He was confident he would convince her.
“Someone who knew Gloria would know the significance of the earring. Similarly, someone who was close to her, who had studied her over a period of days or longer could pick up on it as well.”
“You’re talking about a stalker.”
McCaleb nodded.
“In the acquisition period. He watches her. Learns her habits, sets his plan. He’d also be looking for something. A token. Something to take and to remember her by.”
“The earring.”
He nodded again. Winston started pacing around the small room, not looking at McCaleb.
“I’ve got to think about this. I’ve got… let’s go someplace where we can sit down.”
She didn’t wait for a reply. She opened the door and left the room. McCaleb quickly ejected the tape, grabbed his bag and followed. Winston led him to the meeting room in which they had talked the first day McCaleb had come to see her about the case. The room was empty but smelled like a McDonald’s restaurant. Winston hunted around, found the offending trash can under the table and escorted it out into the hallway.
“People aren’t supposed to eat in this room,” she said as she closed the door and sat down.
McCaleb took the seat across from her.
“All right, what about my guy? How does James Cordell fit in? First of all, he’s a guy. The other’s a girl. Plus, there was no sex. This woman wasn’t touched.”
“None of that matters,” McCaleb said quickly. He had been anticipating the question. He had done nothing but think about the questions and their possible answers during the drive out with Buddy Lockridge from the marina. “If I’m right, this would fall into what we called the power kill model. Basically, it’s a guy who is doing it because he can get away with it. He gets off on that. It’s his way of thumbing his nose at authority and shocking society. He transfers his problems with a particular situation-whether it’s a job, self-worth, women in general or his mother in particular or whatever-onto the police. The investigators. From tweaking them, he gets the jolt in self-worth that he needs. He derives a form of power from it. And it can be sexual power, even if there are no obvious or physical sexual manifestations in the actual crime. You remember the Code Killer out here a while back? Or Berkowitz, the Son of Sam killer in New York?”
“Of course.”
“Same thing with both of them. There was no sex in each crime itself but it was all about sex. Look at Berkowitz. He shot people up-men and women-and ran away. But he came back days later and masturbated at the scene. We assumed the Code Killer did the same thing but if he did, our surveillances missed him. What I’m saying is that it doesn’t have to be obvious, Jaye, that’s all. It’s not always the obvious wackos who carve their names in people’s skin.”
McCaleb watched Winston closely, leery of talking above her. But she seemed to understand his theory.
“But it’s not only that,” McCaleb went on. “There’s another part to this. He gets off on the camera, too.”
“He likes us seeing him do it?”
McCaleb nodded.
“That’s the new twist. I think he wants the camera. He wants his work and his accomplishments documented, seen and admired. It increases the danger to him and therefore increases the power reflection on him. The payoff. So to get that situation, what does he do? I think he picks up on a target-he chooses his prey-and then watches them until he has their routine and he knows when it takes them into places of business where the cameras are. The ATM, the market. He wants the camera. He talks to it. He winks at it. The camera is you-the investigator. He’s talking to you and getting off on it.”
“Then maybe he doesn’t choose the victim,” Winston said. “Maybe he doesn’t care about that. Just the camera. Like Berkowitz. He didn’t care who he shot. He just went out shooting.”
“But Berkowitz didn’t take souvenirs.”
“The earring?”
McCaleb nodded.
“You see that makes it personal. I think these victims were chosen. Not the other way around.”
“You’ve thought this all out, haven’t you?”
