by George Fong
Youngblood removed his fingers from the keys and looked back at Jack, waiting for approval.
Jack studied the message, then nodded. “I guess it’s as good as any.”
“What do we do next?” Youngblood asked.
“Wait.”
The command post buzzed and the Chico PD, in conjunction with the FBI, had teams of officers and agents scouring every inch of the area. But the waiting was killing Jack.
“Eric, why do you really think Cooper killed his family?” Marquez asked.
Youngblood shook his head and grimaced. “I wish I knew. Something he was hiding, that his wife may have found out about?”
“Something worth killing your wife and child over?” Marquez’s tone was filled with disgust.
“He killed that Holloway girl. That’s pretty bad. Maybe she discovered that, and that’s what drove him to kill again.”
“How would she have learned about Grace Holloway?” Jack asked.
Again, Youngblood shook his head. “Who knows? I told you, I had very little contact with him until he reached out to me after he murdered his family. Between those times, I can only imagine he had made other friends that shared his interests.”
“Like killing young girls?” The question was rhetorical.
Youngblood shrugged. “Look, Alvie came to us after his mother died. Before that, I didn’t know him from Adam.”
Jack glanced at his watch. “How long it usually take for Cooper to respond?”
“Minutes, no more than an hour. But that was years ago.”
It had been over an hour. Youngblood folded his arms on the desk and settled his head on top of them with his eyes closed. Marquez was on the phone with Jim Harrington, getting updates on tracking Cooper’s cell phone and e-mail. Nothing. Jack returned to Cooper’s journals, nudging Youngblood every so often to ask about a phrase or a place mentioned. Youngblood was able to give some speculation here or there, but nothing of much substance. Jack tapped Marquez on the back.
“Check the Rabbit Hole.”
Marquez rolled to the undercover computer. As she launched into the website, Youngblood lifted his head and craned his neck in her direction.
Marquez leaned forward, then tapped it with a finger. “I think we got something.”
46
Thursday – 9:45 a.m.
The response to Youngblood’s message was short and simple: Where are you?
“You think he knows we’re on to him?” Marquez’s voice was cautious.
Jack shook his head. “I doubt it or he wouldn’t have responded.” He looked back at Youngblood. “Tell him you were contacted by the police at Monroe’s house and that they’re accusing you of the Grace Holloway murder.”
Youngblood said, “If he thinks I’m hot . . . that’ll drive him away.”
Jack nodded. “It could. But helping Cooper escape will ensure law enforcement can’t pin the Holloway murder on you, guilty or not.”
“I told you, I had nothing to do with her death.”
Jack put a hand on his shoulder. “I heard you the first time. I just want to give Cooper a reason to hook up.”
Colfax glanced at Youngblood and pointed a finger. “You know when we get him, he’s going to implicate you in the Holloway murder, or just say you killed her.”
“He can say anything he wants.” There was a quiet moment, a feeling of uneasiness electrifying the room. Then Youngblood asked, “Are you saying you’d believe him?”
Colfax shrugged without saying a word.
Jack rapped the table gently to break the tension, and told Youngblood to craft a reply to Cooper to see if they could meet. Youngblood never shifted his focus away from Colfax, the brittleness still apparent between them.
Marquez slid her chair to help draft the response, as Jack rang Harrington to fill him in.
“I’ll put a call into the server, see if they got a location where Cooper launched his e-mail.”
“Push them hard, Jimmy.”
In the background, Youngblood and Marquez formulated the message. It had to be short and to the point. Words were important. Too many wasted ones would certainly draw suspicion, thus killing any hopes of getting Cooper to show himself. Jack was already concerned that Cooper was aware law enforcement was on to him. He’d proven his desperation by murdering their informant and trying to off cops. It wasn’t only Jack tracking Cooper now, and their killer was lashing back, eliminating anyone who got in his way. Maybe Cooper had already decided it wasn’t worth the trouble keeping Jessica Baker alive. Start over with a new victim, a new target of opportunity.
“We’re ready,” Marquez said.
Jack nodded once. “Pull the trigger.”
The message was placed in the draft box and Youngblood signed out of the e-mail account. They’d cast their imaginary fishing pole. Now they’d wait for a bite.
“He knows your hunting him,” Youngblood said, breaking the silence.
“He probably does,” Colfax replied, “but I’m betting he’s not going to pass on your help. The heat’s on and you’re his only friend. At least the only one he hasn’t killed yet.”
Youngblood folded his arms across his chest. “You don’t like me, do you?”
“I don’t like people involved in killing young girls—”
“I told you—”
“Or those who know about the crime but choose to keep the information to themselves because they’re scared.”
Youngblood’s gaze fell toward his lap. “I’m sorry,” he said to no one in particular. Or maybe to everyone, including Grace Holloway and Jessica Baker. Colfax clenched his teeth and walked away.
Jack’s cell phone vibrated. It was Harrington, his voice sounding anxious.
“Tell me something good, Jimmy.”
“Jack,” Harrington said. “We got a location.”
47
Thursday – 3:30 p.m.
The room at the FBI field office was filling fast with brass from every nearby agency. Harrington unfolded a large map on the conference room table and ran his hand across the heavy paper, smoothing out the folds as people crowded around, jockeying for space to get a good view. Jack stood to Harrington’s right, tossing his notebook on top of the map. Against the back wall, a satellite view showcased where Cooper accessed the Internet on a wall-size, pull-down screen. Rumbling in the room grew to a moderate roar.
Jack looked around, trying to get a head count on how many people were present. “Let’s get started,” he said, and the room instantly grew quiet.
“For those who have not been updated,” Jack continued, “we have several initiatives in the works to help locate and rescue sixteen-year-old Jessica Baker and apprehend our subject, Alvin Franklin Cooper.”
The screen changed to display two photos, side-by-side, one of Baker and the other of Cooper.
“The first is a trap and trace and pen register on what we know to be Cooper’s telephone.” Jack gestured for Harrington’s input.
“Although we’re confident that the cell number belongs to Cooper,” Harrington said, “the phone has been off since we went up. At this moment, we don’t have a bead on him.”
“We do have the server of his e-mail account monitored,” Jack continued. “Not more than two hours ago, Cooper launched his e-mail on a Wi-Fi network at a Starbuck’s in downtown Sacramento. Three patrol units and an FBI surveillance team were dispatched to the area. They’re searching every building, park, and alleyway for Cooper. We’re also looking for the last vehicle he was known to be driving.” Jack held up a photo of a white Chevy pickup with a camper shell. Notepads flipped open as the attendees started hastily scrawling.
Someone in the audience raised a hand. “Has there been a demand for money?
“No demand.”
A low grumble confirmed what everyone in the room knew: no ransom meant no bargaining. Which left only two possible outcomes. Either he was going to keep her. Or he was going to kill her.
“We were able to get an associat
e of Cooper to post a message via e-mail with the intent of drawing him out into the open. It didn’t take long for Cooper to take the bait and ask for a meeting.”
The screen changed, projecting an overview of Sacramento’s midtown section. Rows of tightly fitted Victorians with tall evergreen and oak trees lined shaded streets just east of the town’s center, gentrification making its mark with many houses expensively refurbished or converted into law offices.
“Cooper has instructed his friend to meet him tonight at Harlow’s, a nightclub near 27th and J Street.” Jack used a laser pointer to shine a bright red dot on the south side of J, just before the Capitol Freeway. “As most of you know, that’s a busy commercial area, lined with businesses, bars, and restaurants. It’s going to be busy tonight and I think that’s why Cooper chose this place at this time.”
Jack ran the red laser in a broad circle around the area. “We got S.O.G. staking out the outer perimeter with SWAT on stand-by just down the street in case we get him contained in a stand-off location.”
A lieutenant with Sacramento PD raised a hand. “I got every detective waiting to be deployed into the area as soon as you’re ready.”
Jack gestured at Hoskin, who stood deep in the crowd. “Chris will meet with your team and get them updated with our best photo of Cooper and the associate he’s supposed to meet.”
Hoskin wedged through the crowd over to the lieutenant, where they conveyed plans before exiting the conference room together.
Jack scanned the crowd. All eyes fixed forward, waiting for direction. He leaned with both hands square on the table and checked his watch. Four p.m. Two days and approximately eight hours had passed since Jessica’s abduction. With Cooper’s awareness that law enforcement was in pursuit, a haunting portrait of Jessica Baker’s future emerged. He thought about her condition, about the possibility of a diabetic coma. When would Cooper decide it wasn’t worth keeping her alive any longer?
Between Jack and Colfax, the audience was briefed and assignments handed out. A perimeter was secured around Harlow’s with a covert surveillance team. Tech agents with the cellphone tracking equipment were also deployed, circling the area in case Cooper’s phone came to life. Youngblood was provided a car, a red Chevrolet Malibu. The vehicle, part of the Sacramento FBI’s covert fleet, was wired for sight, sound, and GPS tracking. Youngblood himself was wired as well. If Youngblood had to pick up Cooper, Jack and the security team would be able to monitor the conversation and follow at a safe distance without getting burned during the surveillance. Hopefully, Youngblood would be able to convince Cooper to take him to where Jessica Baker was being held. At that point, Youngblood was instructed to step into view of the surveillance team, place both hands on top of his head and say, “It’s a green light.” Between the microphones, video feed, and surveillance, someone was going to get the cue.
The crowd started to thin as the team leaders began talking on their cell phones, informing their respective teams of their assignments. Several of the commanders stopped in front of the map, running their fingers along the street lines surrounding the meet location. The roar of the crowd returned and Jack knew this meant game on.
Colfax rapped a fist on the map. “This isn’t going to be easy. Cooper’s not stupid and he’s certainly not going to make the same mistakes he’s made in the past. His head’s going to be on a swivel, and if he spots surveillance, that girl’s history.”
Jack nodded in agreement.
“If he meets Youngblood on foot,” Colfax said, “he could take him down those alleyways to clear himself of any tail. The body transmitter is only good for a short range. He gets any distance on us, and Youngblood’s on his own.”
“We’ll have a bird up.”
Colfax shook his head. “A plane’s a great asset, but it’ll be night in a few hours. There’s no guarantee they’ll be able to keep an eye on two small figures darting in and out of the dark.”
Jack knew there weren’t answers to every contingency. All he could do was lay the foundation of a rescue like he had done in the past: perimeter surveillance, outer mobile surveillance, tracking system, air coverage. Tactical, negotiation and rescue teams trailing the pack. A command center was set up at the Sacramento County Sheriff’s Office because it was closest to the meet location. There wasn’t much else Jack could do but wait.
Jack nervously scratched the two-day-old stubble on his chin. “Where’s Youngblood?”
“Harrington’s got him,” Colfax replied. “He’s being fitted for his transmitter.”
“Let’s go see him. I got one more piece of insurance I want to stick on him before we cut him loose.”
48
Thursday – 4:16 p.m.
Youngblood tightened the leather belt around his waist, adjusting the buckle to face perfectly straight.
“How’s that?” Youngblood pulled his hands away from his body, palms up, and aimed the shiny belt buckle directly in Harrington’s line of sight.
Harrington studied Youngblood’s waist. “That’ll do. Just remember the mic is in the buckle. Don’t cover it up or everything’ll be muffled.”
Youngblood’s head canted down, eyes fixated on the buckle.
“Act natural. You concentrate on that transmitter too much and Cooper’s going to know something’s up.”
Youngblood blew out a nervous breath. “Just knowing there’s a microphone down there makes me feel like I have a brick stuck to my belly.”
“Everyone feels that way, believe me. Just forget it’s there and he’s not going to find it.”
Youngblood forced a smile. “He won’t have to. If he suspects anything, he’ll just kill me.”
Harrington patted him on the shoulder. “We’ll make sure that doesn’t happen.”
“Everything okay?” Jack asked as he walked into Harrington’s office with a black duffle bag slung over his left shoulder, Colfax right behind him. Jack placed the bag on the workbench, pulled open the zipper and removed a cell phone, placing it in Youngblood’s hand.
“Keep this on your hip.”
Youngblood studied the phone, turning it over. “I got one already.”
“This one’s better.”
Harrington took the phone from Youngblood, checked the battery.
“This one has a longer battery life and allows for autodial in case you’re in trouble.” Harrington clipped it on Youngblood’s side and gave it a pat. “Just hit any key and it will call us direct. No need to dial. We’ll come get you.”
Jack pulled out another phone exactly like the one he gave Youngblood. “I’ll be able to listen in with this one.”
“I’m all choked up that you care so much for my safety,” Youngblood said looking at Colfax.
“Just get him to tell you where Jessica Baker is,” Colfax said. “We’ll do the rest.”
Jack pulled up a work stool and sat next to Youngblood.
“Eric, tonight is critical to the rescue of our victim.”
“Just tell me what you want me to do.”
“You’re going to drive one of our undercover vehicles over to Harlow’s and park around the back, just like you told Cooper. We’ll have surveillance already set up to keep an eye on you.”
Youngblood nodded that he understood.
“When Cooper arrives, see if you can get him inside your car to talk. It will give you both privacy, and we will be able to monitor the conversation better without the outside noises interfering.”
“What if he comes in a car and asks me to get in?”
This was always a tough call. When Jack worked undercover, the rule was never to get into a target’s car. It didn’t allow for the security team to provide cover if the suspect decided to take a drive. And that could get an undercover killed.
“Tell him your car is safer, that you just bought the car in a false name, paid cash so the police wouldn’t be able to find you.”
“And if he says no?”
“Look, Eric, I can’t tell you to go with him because i
t’s too dangerous.” Jack paused. “But you know him better than any of us. If you feel you can get him to take you to Jessica Backer, I’ll let you make the decision.”
Youngblood nodded glumly.
“I know it can be a tough but only you can make that call. You just need to convey your intent over the wire so we can respond. If you don’t go, I’ll still have the ability to follow him. Hopefully he’ll lead us to Jessica Baker, but I can’t let him get away.”
Youngblood stared into Jack’s eyes, before glancing quickly at Colfax, who was still shadowed in the corner. “Okay, I’ll try to get him in my car. Otherwise, count on me going with him.”
49
Thursday – 4:59 p.m.
The radio chatter was constant but controlled. The mobile surveillance units pointed out vehicles and suspicious individuals around Harlow’s, running license plates to see if any of the cars were recently sold or reported stolen. Low light, closed-circuit cameras hidden on rooftops and inside stationary box vans observed pedestrians, people roaming the streets, hopping bar to bar.
The sun would be setting shortly but the heat was still going strong. Surveillance agents complained about the temperature inside their vans. They couldn’t run the air conditioner without drawing suspicion, forced to swelter inside a metal box. Stripped down to shorts and T-shirts, they wrapped bags of ice around their necks to keep from passing out.
Jack was driving around the area in a Toyota Camry trying to stay clear of the surveillance team. Marquez kept watch out the window while nervously finger-tapping the glass. It sounded like falling rain.
“An hour or so and it will be dark,” she said.
“I don’t expect Cooper until it is.” Jack had already instructed Youngblood to park around back of Harlow’s in case Cooper showed up early. Cooper hadn’t specified a time. Before the evening crowd arrived, Jack wanted Youngblood to get a good parking space, which would provide the best view for the team. An agent called over the radio that Youngblood was in the lot and out of his car, leaning against the hood having a smoke.