by Rob Ashman
‘I just asked you a fucking question. So why don’t we start with that one.’ Her face was red.
‘Okay,’ said Lucas. ‘That’s fair.’
‘Well?’ Gina yelled at Lucas again.
‘We have reason to believe that when you got the recorded message you were intending to call a counsellor. Is that correct, Gina?’
‘Er yes, I suppose so.’ She was much less on the offensive now.
‘I need you to tell me the nature of the calls. What were the calls about?’
Gina hesitated, this was touching a raw nerve.
‘I’d rather not say.’ She folded her arms across her chest.
‘Gina, this is really important. What did you talk about on the calls?’
‘I don’t like this,’ she said. ‘It’s personal and none of your business. I just want to know why me and my family are in danger.’
Lucas straightened himself in his chair, then leaned right forward with his elbows on the desk. ‘Gina, you and your family are in danger because we believe that the counsellor you’ve been talking to may be working with a serial killer. You could be the next victim.’ Gina’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. ‘Now you need to co-operate if we are going to prevent that happening, but we can’t if you don’t talk to us.’ Lucas maintained his close posture and kept his voice low.
She sat staring at Lucas in disbelief. ‘But that’s ridiculous. I’ve never met her.’
‘Who? What’s her name?’
‘I don’t know her name and she doesn’t know mine. It’s all part of the anonymity. I call her Josie and she calls me Josie. She is really good and so understanding. She helps me work things out.’
‘What kind of things?’
‘Family problems, that’s all. She helps me put them in perspective. Things are not that great at home and she helps me get myself straight.’
‘How long have you been doing this?’
‘Oh, I suppose about five weeks.’
‘And you call the number and get the counselling, that’s the arrangement.’
‘Yes. That’s how it works.’
‘Did you use a different number to start with?’
‘Yes, how the hell did you know that? I saw an ad at the club and used that number first. Then Josie told me to use a different number to continue the support. But why am I in such danger and why are my family at risk as well? I don’t get it. She doesn’t know who I am.’
‘We believe she and the killer track you through the club somehow. That part isn’t clear to us as yet.’
‘But she can’t know who I am. She doesn’t know where I live or what I do. We’ve haven’t even met yet,’ said Gina.
‘Look Gina, we are treating this individual as very resourceful and dangerous. We believe this person has been involved in previous murders using the same counselling tactics to engage with the victims. At present we are not sure how … What do you mean yet?’
Gina looked startled by his change of tone. ‘She said the counselling wasn’t working, it wasn’t bringing the expected results so she suggested we meet up. I said that would ruin the whole anonymity thing, and she said it was usual practice in a small number of cases, and anyway—’
‘Meet up?’ Lucas interrupted. ‘What do you mean meet up?’
‘She wants me to meet her so she can help me focus on the issues. She said there are times when the problems are so deep rooted it’s necessary to—’
Lucas was becoming more and more excited. He interrupted again.
‘In a café, a park. Where? Where does she want to meet you?’ Lucas asked.
‘At her place,’ Gina replied.
Lucas was on his feet now. ‘How are you going to do that?’
‘I have her address. During our last call she said it was important for us to explore the deep rooted—’ Gina was unable to complete her sentence again.
‘You know her address?’ It was Lucas’s turn to yell.
‘No, I have her address. It’s written down at home.’
‘When are you supposed to meet?’
‘She said we would finalize something today. That’s why I called, because I hadn’t heard from her to make arrangements.’
Lucas reached for the desk phone. ‘Get me a squad car out front right now, and get hold of Bassano. Come on Gina, we need you to take us to your home to get that address. And we need to move fast.’
‘But, but ...’ Lucas pulled Gina by the elbow. She picked up her jacket from the back of the chair and they bustled out of the interview room.
Lucas turned to Gina in the corridor. ‘Wait here.’
He went to the observation room and opened the door. ‘Come on let’s ...’ His voice tailed off. Dr Jo Sells was gone.
44
Lucas went back into the interview room and picked up the phone. He spoke in hushed tones and replaced it in its cradle. He stood by the table and stroked his chin deep in thought. Gina McKellen, or Officer Gina Spence, as she was better known, came into the room.
‘Good job,’ said Lucas.
‘Thank you, sir,’ she replied. ‘I hope I didn’t overstep the mark when I swore at you.’
‘No, that was absolutely fine. You were excellent. There is a car arranged to take you home.’
‘Am I allowed to ask, sir, what this was all about? This is pretty irregular.’
‘Yeah it is, but I’m afraid not. But if I’m right, you will know soon enough.’
‘Well, sir, there is one thing I need to know.’
‘Yes, what is it?’
‘Can I wash this crap out of my hair?’
Lucas laughed. ‘Yes, that’s fine. I don’t think we’ll be needing the services of Gina McKellen again.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
Gina Spence left the room and could be heard clip-clopping down the corridor in her non-regulation shoes. Lucas stayed by the phone wondering if the gamble had paid off, or whether he would be the one getting paid off when they fired his ass out of the force. He felt calm and sharp.
Bassano on the other hand was having a dreadful time. Jo had left the station at a hell of a pace and found a taxi right outside the main gates. She figured that a taxi was more difficult to trace than her rental car, so when she saw it she jumped straight in.
Bassano had been waiting across the street in his car. He was in a dilemma: he didn’t want to raise suspicion by moving off too soon, but also didn’t want to risk losing his target by leaving it too late. He hesitated just a fraction too long and found himself about six cars behind the taxi, getting caught by pedestrian crossings and traffic lights. His car was filled with bad language and inappropriate gestures. The gap between them was widening.
As they left the city limits, the taxi driver put his foot down while Bassano was still struggling to get through the last remaining intersections. He lost them momentarily but then spotted the taxi as it drove up the ramp onto the freeway. In a last-ditch effort before they disappeared, he forced his way through the barrage of angry horns and jumped a red light. Bassano hit the freeway.
In the taxi, Jo’s head was spinning. What the hell was Jess up to? She must have a fucking death wish this time. The thoughts swirled around in her head and she felt sick. She had to get there and warn her. The phone was not an option and her only hope was that Jess would be at home. She had to tell her they were coming. She had to protect her.
Bassano was now positioned a far more comfortable three cars behind. He reached for the radio.
‘Patch me through to Interview Room One.’
The phone rang and Lucas picked it up.
‘You with her?’
‘Yes, bit of a nightmare but under control now. We are going east on 71st and have just passed intersection nine.’
‘I’ll get the cars on the road and co-ordinate from there. Stick on her tail and keep me briefed.’ Lucas put down the phone and made his way to the control room.
Jo was trying to get a grip of herself as a ball of molten panic welled u
p in her throat. She had blown her cover but what was she supposed to do? She had no alternative. She had time though. Lucas wouldn’t waste effort looking for her, he would be focused on finding that address and getting to her sister’s place fast.
Jo shook her head. Her career was ruined and she would now be as much on the wanted list as Jessica. Shit, what a mess. If only her damn sister would behave like any other normal psychopath and not try to be a clever bitch. They had to get away fast, was all she could think of.
She loved her sister and like other identical twins they shared a special bond. It was as though what happened to Jess also happened to Jo. They were exceptionally close, they had to be.
They’d both been Daddy’s girls and had idolized their father. He was a marine and they travelled from place to place as his postings sent him around the world. He saw active service many times but refused to talk about what he’d done, even when the girls were old enough to understand.
Their mother was a dutiful service wife, following her husband from town to town, setting up home in whatever accommodation the forces threw at her. She would pick up casual work in bars and restaurants to keep herself occupied while the girls were in school. She did it for the social interaction – they didn’t need the money. She was a good mother but always a little distant and she never really connected with her children. As a family they were rubbing along well together right up to the point when Daddy took that posting.
San Diego is a beautiful place. They jumped for joy when his latest tour ended and he was posted there. She’d always dreamed of being a San Diego girl. Funny how sometimes you have to be careful what you wish for.
It was fantastic, to begin with.
The school was great and they made friends quickly. The weather was wall-to-wall sunshine and life was very good indeed. Mom took a job working in a bar in the old town which was a pleasant enough place, serving margaritas and Mexican food. There was a large outside seating area with gas fires in the centre of the tables. The girls loved it when they picked Mom up from work and could sit on the high stools, sipping non-alcoholic cocktails next to the flickering flames.
Life was good until Mom met him.
He was a twenty-something beach-bum-come-hobo, with a ready supply of hash and beer breath. She fell for him, head over heels. Jo remembered it like it was yesterday. Her dutiful mom who only drank on a Saturday, never left ironing in the basket for longer than a day, and had dinner on the table at six thirty every evening became a drunken, pot-smoking fuck bunny within a period of three months.
The guy was like a Svengali to her weaknesses. Dad was devastated. He tried to reason with her and help her through this little fling. But when that failed, he beat the living daylights out of him and it all went tits up. Mom moved out and disappeared in a cloud of pot smoke, leaving the two girls and a husband who was cracking up.
He desperately tried to contact her but she’d vanished. He stopped going to work and they put him on sick leave. He began drinking and the inevitable mental breakdown ensued. This sent their whole world into free fall and it was then that the abuse started.
Jo remembered that they were about twelve at the time. He’d started shouting and swearing at them, and then occasional slap when they argued back, then came the odd punch. There was no food in the house and the girls were forced into wearing dirty clothes, they were in a bad way.
He would scream that it was their mother that was making him do this. She was the one to blame. As he hit them he would cry and shout, ‘Your mother’s making me do this. She’s the bitch to blame.’ It got more frequent and more intense each time.
Then, one night, she remembered him coming home drunk and crashing around downstairs. Jo hid under her bedsheets hoping he’d just collapse on the sofa in front of the TV and fall asleep. But she heard the clumping of boots on the stairs and screwed her eyes tight shut, trying to block it out. He went into Jess’s room and shut the door and all was quiet. That’s how it remained all night.
The next morning Daddy was much calmer. He wasn’t spoiling for a fight and the girls went off to school unscathed. Jess never said what had happened, but then she didn’t have to. Jo knew it was bad. Jess turned to Jo over the breakfast table, cool as you like, and with not a flicker of emotion said, ‘I’m fixing it. I’ll look after you.’
Her father visited Jess regularly and it was always the same result. A strange calm descended over him and the slapping, shouting and screaming stopped. After a while he returned to work, gradually got himself together, and the household started functioning again.
All the outward signs said, ‘Stewart Sells had a rough time when his wife left him, but he’s back on track now.’ The truth was that Jess was the one having the rough time. About twice a week Jo would hear the bedroom door click shut and then silence. This happened for the next six years until Jess and Jo went off to college. When Jo asked the question, all her sister would say was, ‘Don’t worry, I will always look after you.’ Jo often wondered what life would have been like if her dad had turned to the left at the top of the stairs instead of right into Jess’s room. In her quieter moments she would think, ‘There but for the grace of God, go I’ but then it was obvious, whichever way you looked at it, the grace of God had given her family a miss.
Jo was so engrossed in her thoughts she was oblivious to the journey and how far they had travelled so when the car came to an abrupt halt she blurted out, ‘Why have we stopped?’
‘Because this is where you told me to go, lady,’ said the driver in a tired I’ve-been-up-for-eighteen-hours kind of voice.
‘Oh yes, sorry,’ Jo replied, fishing in her bag for money and throwing notes onto the passenger seat.
‘But, lady, your change,’ the driver called after her as she got out of the car and ran up the white wooden steps two at a time to the first floor apartment. She could see her sister’s truck in the parking lot at the back and banged on the door with thudding urgency. She banged again. Jessica Sells opened the door and was shocked to find her sister barging past her, already talking at a hundred miles an hour.
Bassano swung into the road just in time to see the taxi pull away and head back to the freeway. The driver had a satisfied grin on his face after the twenty dollar tip the previous fare had thrown onto his seat. Bassano clocked Jo racing up the steps. He radioed in the details of the property to Lucas who started running records on the occupants. After several minutes Bassano was joined by another two cars, each with four people. They killed their engines and waited.
Fifteen more minutes passed which felt like a lifetime, then Lucas radioed in.
‘There are eight apartments in the building and only one of them is let to a single female. Her name is Olivia Dunn and she’s in number five. I suggest we get the place surrounded. How many men do you have?’
‘We have nine including me, sir. That should do it. It’s a residential area with plenty of visibility and clean access, there’s little room for surprises. I think we should go in, sir.’ Bassano was pumped with adrenaline.
The team were impatient and it seemed that Lucas took forever to respond. ‘Okay. Move in.’
The car doors swung open and the men spilled onto the road and the sidewalk, fanning out as they approached the building. Bassano gestured and three went around the back as the others filed up the white steps.
Apartment 5 was at the top of the second flight of stairs. Two men stood on one side of the door and three on the other. Bassano stood in the middle. He reached for his radio and squirted the transmit button to signal to the guys at the back they were ready. He gave a finger countdown: three, two, one – crash. His right foot ploughed through the mortise lock securing the door to the frame. The door swung back, hitting against the wall in a shower of plaster and paint.
The men either side burst in with their weapons raised. ‘Freeze!’ they yelled at the crumpled figure crying on the sofa.
‘Don’t move, Jo,’ yelled Bassano as the officers peeled off into the adj
oining rooms.
She turned and looked at Bassano, his gun levelled at her head. Makeup streaked down her cheeks and her face was red. Her mouth was open but nothing came out.
One of the officers pulled her off the sofa and forced her to the ground. She yelped in pain as her shoulder hit the wooden floor and the cuffs clicked into place. The other officers swept the remaining rooms shouting, ‘Clear!’ as it became obvious the place was empty. Bassano inspected each of the rooms in turn. He shouted to one of the men. ‘Get her up.’
He yanked her to her feet and shoved her back onto the sofa. She was still crying with tears streaming down her face and onto her jacket.
‘Where the fuck is she, Jo?’ Bassano shouted in her face. She flinched at his aggression and turned her head away.
‘She’s gone,’ she said choking back a cough. ‘She’s not here.’
‘Tell me Jo, where is she?’ Bassano shook her by the shoulders.
‘I don’t know,’ she said with complete desperation in her voice. ‘She’s gone, and I don’t know where.’ She was sobbing uncontrollably. Bassano gestured to the officer and he marched her out of the door to the waiting car outside. Bassano turned to the others. ‘Shut this place down and get forensics in here. I’m taking her back to the station.’
Bassano stomped out. This was not the way it was supposed to have happened.
They sat in the car in silence. Bassano drove, with a police officer in the back next to Jo. She was still sobbing. ‘What will happen to me?’ she asked through the tears.
‘That depends on you,’ said Bassano looking in the rear-view mirror. ‘But I doubt you can do anything to keep your sorry deceitful ass out of jail, and with any real justice you’ll take a needle.’
45
‘Jo, this isn’t helping. You’re gonna have to talk to us eventually.’
Lucas and Bassano sat opposite her in the interview room. Her head was bowed, she looked a total wreck. She had stopped crying for long enough to confirm her name and date of birth for the benefit of the tape but other than that had said nothing.