The Scarecrow (23 page)

It was important to Larry to get official confirmation from the police or FBI on the things I was telling him. So to his side
he had a legal pad on which he wrote a series of questions he would later take to the authorities before writing his story.
Because of that need to get to the task force before writing, Bernard was all business with me. There was very little small
talk and I liked that. I didn’t have any small talk left.

My throwaway phone buzzed in my pocket for the second time in fifteen minutes. The first time, I hadn’t bothered to pull it
out and I let it go to message. Larry and I had been in the middle of a key point of discussion and I didn’t want the intrusion.
But whoever called hadn’t left a message, because I didn’t get a follow-up voice-mail buzz.

Now the phone was buzzing again and this time I pulled it out to check the caller ID. The screen showed only a number but
I readily recognized it because I had called it a few times in the past couple of days. It was Angela Cook’s cell number.
The number I had called after hearing that she was missing.

“Larry, I’ll be right back.”

I got up from the table and left the conference room while clicking on to the call. I headed toward my cubicle.

“Hello?”

“Is this Jack?”

“Yes, who is this?”

“This is your friend, Jack. From Ely.”

I knew exactly who it was. There was that same empty-desert twang in his voice. Sideburns. I sat down at my desk and leaned
forward to help insulate the conversation from any nearby ears.

“What do you want?” I asked.

“To see how you’re doing,” he said.

“Yeah, well, I’m doing fine, no thanks to you. In the hallway at the Nevada, why’d you stop? Instead of sticking with the
plan, you just walked on by.”

I thought I heard a low chuckle on the line.

“You had company and I wasn’t expecting that, Jack. Who was she, your girlfriend?”

“Something like that. And she messed up your plan, right? You wanted to make it look like suicide.”

Another chuckle.

“I can see you are very smart,” he said. “Or are you just telling me what they’ve told you?”

“They?”

“Don’t be silly, Jack. I know what’s going on. The cat’s out of the bag. There are a lot of stories being written for tomorrow’s
paper. But none of them with your name on it, Jack. What’s up with that?”

That told me he was still floating around inside the
Times’
data system. I wondered if it would help the task force run him down.

“You there, Jack?”

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“And it looks like you have no name for me yet, either.”

“What do you mean?”

“Aren’t you all going to give me a name? We all get names, you know. The Yorkshire Ripper. The Hillside Strangler. The Poet.
You know about that one, right?”

“Yeah, we’re giving you a name. We’re calling you the Iron Maiden. How do you like that?”

This time I heard no chuckle in the silence that followed.

“Are you still there, Iron Maiden?”

“You should be careful, Jack. I could always try again, you know.”

I laughed at him.

“Hey, I’m not hiding. I’m right here. Try again, if you’ve got the balls.”

He was silent, so I laid it on thicker.

“Killing these defenseless women, that takes a lot of balls, doesn’t it?”

The chuckle was back.

“You’re very transparent, Jack. Are you working off a script?”

“I don’t need a script.”

“Well, I know what you’re doing. Talking with a lot of bluster and bravado to bait the trap. Hoping I’ll come to L.A. and
go for you. Meantime, you have the FBI and the LAPD watching and ready to jump in and catch the monster just in the nick of
time. Is that it, Jack?”

“If that’s what you think.”

“Well, it won’t work that way. I’m a patient man, Jack. Time will pass, maybe even years will go by, and then I promise we’ll
meet again face-to-face. No disguise. I’ll return your gun then.”

His low chuckle came again and I got the impression that wherever he was calling from, he was trying to keep his voice and
laugh down and not draw attention. I didn’t know if it was an office or a public space but he was keeping himself contained.
I was sure of it.

“Speaking of the gun, how was that going to be explained? You know, that I flew to Vegas but then somehow had my gun and killed
myself with it? Seems like a flaw in the plan, doesn’t it?”

He outright laughed this time.

“Jack, you are not in possession of all the facts yet, are you? When you are, then you will understand how flawless the plan
was. My one mistake was the girl in the room. I didn’t see that coming.”

Neither did I but I wasn’t saying so.

“Then I guess it wasn’t so flawless, was it?”

“I can make up for it.”

“Look, I’m having a busy day here. Why are you calling me?”

“I told you, to see how you are. To make your acquaintance. We’re now going to be linked forever, aren’t we?”

“Well, while I’ve got you on the line, can I ask you a few questions for the story we’re putting together?”

“I don’t think so, Jack. This is between you and me, not your readers.”

“You know, you’re right. The truth is, I wouldn’t give you the space. You think I’m going to let you try to explain your sick
fucking world in my newspaper?”

A dark silence followed.

“
You,
” he finally said, his voice tight with anger. “You should respect me.”

Now I laughed.

“Respect you? How about, Fuck you. You took a young girl who had nothing but—”

He interrupted me by making a noise like a muffled cough.

“Did you hear that, Jack? Do you know what that was?”

I didn’t respond and then he made the sound again. Muffled, one syllable, quick. Then he did it a third time.

“Okay, I give up,” I said.

“That was her, saying your name through plastic when there was no air left.”

He laughed. I said nothing.

“You know what I tell them, Jack? I say, ‘Breathe deep and it will all be over a lot faster.’ ”

He laughed again, long and hard, and made sure I heard it all before abruptly hanging up. I sat there for a long time with
the phone still pressed against my ear.

“Sssst.”

I looked up. It was Larry Bernard looking over the sound wall of my cubicle. He thought I was still on the line.

“How much longer?” he whispered.

I took the phone from my ear and covered the mouthpiece with my palm.

“A few more minutes. I’ll come right back in.”

“Okay. I’m going to go take a leak.”

He left me then and I immediately called Rachel. The call was answered after four rings.

“Jack, I can’t talk,” she said by way of a greeting.

“You would’ve won the bet.”

“What bet?”

“He just called me. The Unsub. He has Angela’s cell phone.”

“What did he say?”

“Not a lot. I think he was trying to find out who you are.”

“What do you mean? How would he know about me?”

“He doesn’t. He was trying to find out who the woman in the room back in Ely was. You spoiled everything by being there and
he’s curious.”

“Look, Jack, whatever he said, you can’t quote him in the paper. That sort of thing feeds the fire. If he gets hooked on headlines,
then he’s going to speed up his cycle. He could start killing for headlines.”

“Don’t worry. Nobody here knows he called me and I’m not writing the story, so he’s not going in it. I’ll save it for when
I do write the story. I’ll save it for the book.”

It was the first time I had mentioned the possibility of getting a book out of this. But now it seemed entirely plausible.
One way or another I was going to write this story.

“Did you record it?” Rachel asked.

“No, because I wasn’t expecting it.”

“We need to get your phone. We’ll be able to ping the call and get the originating tower. It will get us close to where he’s
at. At least where he was when he made the call.”

“It sounded like he was someplace where he had to speak quietly or it would attract attention. Like an office or something.
He also made one slip.”

“What was that?”

“I tried to bait him, to get him mad, and—”

“Jack, are you crazy? What are you doing?”

“I didn’t want to be intimidated by him. So I went after him, only he thought I was working off a script given to me by you
guys. He thought I was intentionally baiting him into coming after me. That’s when he slipped. He said I was baiting him into
coming
to L.A. That’s how he said it. Coming to L.A. So he’s somewhere outside of L.A.”

“That’s good, Jack. But he could have been playing you. Intentionally saying that because he actually is in L.A. That’s why
I wish it was taped. So we could have it analyzed.”

I hadn’t thought of the reverse play.

“Well, sorry, no tape. There’s one other thing, too.”

“What is it?”

She seemed so short and to the point, I wondered if our conversation was being listened to.

“He’s either still hacking into the computer system over here or he left some kind of spy program on it.”

“At the
Times
? Why do you say that?”

“He knew about the story budget for tomorrow. He knew I wasn’t writing any of the stories.”

“That sounds like something we might be able to trace,” she said excitedly.

“Yeah, well, good luck getting the
Times
to cooperate. And besides, if this guy’s as smart as you’re saying, he knows what he just told me and he knows the bug he
planted is either untraceable or he’ll just shut it down and zip it up.”

“It’s still worth a try. I will get somebody in our media office to make an approach to the
Times
. It’s worth the shot.”

I nodded.

“You never know. It could usher in a whole new era of media and law enforcement cooperation. Sort of like you and me, Rachel,
but bigger.”

I smiled and hoped she was smiling too.

“You are such an optimist, Jack. Speaking of cooperation, can I send somebody over for your phone now?”

“Yes, but what about sending yourself?”

“I can’t. I’m in the middle of something here. I told you.”

I didn’t know how to read that.

“Are you in trouble, Rachel?”

“I don’t know yet, but I have to go.”

“Well, are you on the task force? Are they letting you work the case?”

“For now, yes.”

“Okay, well, that’s good.”

“Yes.”

We made arrangements for me to meet the agent she would send for the phone outside the door of the globe lobby in a half hour.
It was then time for both of us to go back to work.

“Hang in there, Rachel,” I said.

She was silent for a moment and then said, “You too, Jack.”

We hung up then. And somehow, with all that had transpired in the last thirty-six hours, with what had happened to Angela
and my having just been threatened by a serial killer, a part of me felt happy and hopeful.

I had a feeling, though, that it wasn’t going to last.

C
arver intently watched the security screens. The two men at the front counter showed badges to Geneva. He couldn’t tell what
law enforcement agency they were from. By the time he had zoomed in, the badges had already been put away.

He watched Geneva pick up the phone and punch in three numbers. He knew she would be calling McGinnis’s office. She spoke
briefly, then hung up and signaled the two men with badges to one of the couches to wait.

Carver tried to keep his anxiety in check. The fight-or-flight impulse was firing in his brain as he reviewed his recent moves
and tried to see where, if anywhere, he could have made a mistake. It was safe, he told himself. He was safe. The plan was
good. Freddy Stone was the only issue of concern—the only aspect that could be considered a weak link—and Carver would have
to take steps to make that potential problem go away.

On the screen he watched as Yolanda Chavez, McGinnis’s second in command, entered the reception lobby and shook hands with
the two men. They quickly showed badges again but then one took a folded document from the inside pocket of his suit coat
and presented it to her. She studied it for a moment and then handed it back. She signaled for the two men to follow her and
they went through the door into the interior of the building. By switching security screens Carver was able to follow them
to the administration suite.

He got up and closed the door to his office. Back at his desk, he picked up his phone and punched in the extension for reception.

“Geneva, it’s Mr. Carver. I happen to be watching the cameras and am curious about those two men who just entered. I saw them
show badges. Who are they?”

“They’re FBI agents.”

The words froze his heart but he held himself steady and remained calm. After a moment, Geneva continued.

“They said they have a search warrant. I didn’t see it but they showed it to Yolanda.”

“A search warrant for what?”

“I’m not sure, Mr. Carver.”

“Who did they ask to see?”

“No one. They just asked to see somebody in charge. I called Mr. McGinnis, and Yolanda came out to get them.”

“Okay, thank you, Geneva.”

He hung up the phone and refocused on his screen. He typed in a command that opened a new set of camera angles, a multiplex
screen that showed the four private offices of the top administrators. These cameras were hidden in ceiling-mounted smoke
detectors and the occupants of the offices knew nothing about them. The camera views came with audio feeds as well.

Carver saw the two FBI agents enter Declan McGinnis’s office. He clicked his mouse on that camera and the image filled the
entire screen. It was an angled overhead view of the room from a convex lens. The agents sat down with their backs to the
camera and Yolanda took a seat on the right. Carver had a full view of McGinnis when the company CEO sat back down after shaking
hands with the agents. One was black and one was white. They identified themselves as Bantam and Richmond.