A Deadly Game (20 page)

"That's okay. Good book, though? Did you enjoy it?" "Yeah, it was interesting cause it's a ... it was interesting because I never had a prolonged period of freedom like that from responsibility, you know ..."

Here was another telling statement from Scott-a clear suggestion that he had been thinking about the burdens of adult life . . . responsibilities, in his case, that included caring for Laci and their baby. He was dreaming about being free-free to travel, and pursue other women, and to become an entirely different person from the doting husband and fertilizer salesman that he had become.

The conversation turned to religion and then to banter about their ages. Amber told Scott that she was looking forward to her thirties.

"You're really cute," Scott laughed. He told Amber he was already old, already in midlife.

"You're not old, you're so young, Scott. . . . You're not even at midlife. You're in great shape and you have an awesome body."

"My knees are cracking," Scott said.

"That's nothing, my knees crack. It's nothing. So tell me, do you think I'm intelligent?" Amber asked.

"Yeah, that was one quality I was thinking of. You know what the quality was that I'm thinking about now?"

"No, tell me."

Scott's response was inaudible.

"Me?" Amber replied. "How is that?"

"You have good self-esteem and it's difficult to find in people. And it makes you incredibly sexy and appealing to me."

"That's something I've had to work very hard on Scott, not something that came easy to me."

"You've done a great job."

"There's always been something that I always keep it to the surface," Amber said; she was beginning to cry. "'Cause everything in its time, and everything in its time serves a purpose."

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry."

"Oh God, don't ever say that, don't ever say you're sorry for sharing."

"What?"

"I'm here for you?"

"What was that?" Amber wept.

"I'm here for you."

"I wish you were."

"But I am, and I will be," Scott consoled. As he spoke, a dog- probably McKenzie-barked in the background.

"I'm smearing my mascara down my face," Amber giggled. "You're wonderful," Scott said.

"I'm drinking a Guinness Extra Stout on top of my three cranberry lime twists."

"You're having breakfast."

"Yeah, that's a good way to look at it," Amber giggled. "So when do I get to hear from you again, Scott?" "I'll call when it's the nighttime." "When's your nighttime?"

"There's nine hours' difference, I will take the train late tonight from here to Brussels.. . . Then I'll be in Brussels for at least four days." "All I'm saying is, I don't know when you go to sleep." "Oh, probably midnight or one." "So that would be?"

"Three or four your time . . . and, um, okay, you go to bed at nine, it's six o'clock my time."

"I don't go to bed until eleven. So eight your time." "Okay, I might be up then. I'd like to talk to you at that time. To me it's the most intimate time."

"The most intimate time because . . . ?"

"Just because that time of day our psyches are in ... focused on relationships, as opposed to getting up in the morning and doing things or going to pick up the dry cleaning," Scott said. "You go back to that party." "Okay."

"And our relationship will grow. I have confidence in that." Scott's call to Amber lasted seventy minutes. Before it was through, Detective Buehler noted, Amber had "confirmed many details that had been brought up in the interview Brocchini and I conducted with her on Monday, 12/30/02." Among these were his supposed travel arrangements: "She was able to get him talking about plans for his return from Europe and his travel to Mexico, returning to the United States on January 25. An agreement was made to continue phone contact around the same time each night."

As soon as this relationship became public, commentators and onlookers speculated that Amber Frey was the motive for Laci's murder. However, this explanation has never resonated with me. Scott's pattern of extraneous lies and narcissistic behavior overrode any sincere love for this woman.

Rather, the one thing Scott Peterson seemed to care about was rejecting his life as a small-time fertilizer salesman in Modesto, saddled with a suburban wife and the eighteen-year obligation she was about to bear. He preferred to think of himself as an international playboy, who swept into town from time to time to entertain his mistresses with fine meals and grandiose tales of his escapades and glorious future.

His stories, and his actions, were not for Amber Frey; they were simply for Scott.

CHAPTER EIGHT

JANUARY 1,2003, NEW YEAR'S DAY

Detective Jon Buehler spent much of New Year's Day 2003 on the road, driving to and from Madera. Buehler had been officially appointed to "handle" Amber Frey, and it was a good choice for many reasons. Buehler was kind, eager, and enthusiastic. He was also divorced, which meant he didn't have a wife at home to feel uneasy about the many phone calls he would be receiving from this attractive but very needy young woman. Buehler's assignment would require a lot of hand-holding. In the coming weeks his phone would ring repeatedly, interrupting precious time with his son and daughter. But in the end, his efforts did not go unappreciated by the woman who bravely stepped in to help solve the crime.

Buehler was not the only officer whose private life would come to a grinding halt when Laci went missing. Detectives followed up on countless leads that arose during the almost two-year investigation. There were calls from people saying that Laci had been taken for her unborn child; others from psychics purporting to have visions of the missing woman in various locations; and still more from tipsters anxious to report sightings of a pregnant woman fitting Laci's description. The calls came in from all over the country.

One fact that was ignored by the press is that the six detectives on the case were juggling thirty-four other homicides at the same time. Many of them missed holidays with their families, and in some cases their long absences created problems at home. The personal sacrifices made by Detective Grogan, District Attorney Investigator Steven Bertalotto, and prosecutors Rick DiStaso and Dave Harris- all of whom have young children-were enormous.

Buehler arrived at Amber Prey's residence around 1:30 P.M. to take custody of the tapes of the previous night's conversations. Once inside, Amber told Detective Buehler that Scott preferred that she send mail to a post office box while he was overseas. Somehow, he claimed, he would be able to access the letters through his e-mail. Amber didn't think that made sense, but she jotted down the address anyway: Scott Peterson, P.O. Box 290, 1811 H Street, Suite B5, Modesto, California.

Later that day, Amber listened as Scott shared more stories of his supposed European adventures. Now he was in Brussels, about to take a morning jog over the quaint cobblestone streets. All the French food and wine was making him pudgy, he claimed.

"And last night. . . well, this morning too, there is this fucking dog next to this hotel," Scott said.

"This what?"

"This dog that just keeps barking. I want to kill it," he snapped. The dog, of course, was McKenzie.

He switched subjects. "I got here, like, at two o'clock this morning, but I'm going to fight the pudge."

"So, you're gonna go jogging at seven o'clock in the morning?"

"It is so cold outside," Scott told her. "It is freezing. There's no snow on the ground, but it... oh, it was so cold last night."

"So how long a distance are you going? . . . Are you just gonna jog around the streets, or ..." Amber asked.

"Yeah, pretty much, yeah. I don't know. I'm just gonna run. I don't... I kind of remember the area here," Scott said. "I'll jog down to the main square, which is kind of neat, with all the big churches in the background."

"Yeah, I don't even really, you know-I mean, the only times I've really seen Paris is, you know ..." Amber struggled to get the words out.

"I'm in Brussels now," Scott corrected her. "Oh, you're . . . that's right, you did the change at Brussels. You're in Europe, though, right?" Amber queried.

"Oh yeah," Scott confirmed again.

Scott attempted to explain the time difference to Amber. While she was getting ready to turn in for the night, he was already starting a new day. Where he was, he said, it was nine hours ahead of Madera.

"Yeah, that's just so confusing to me," Amber giggled. "And I hope by the time, you know, by the end of this month, I'll finally get the hang of it."

"And then I'll be back. Then we won't have to worry about it again," Scott told her. Even now, with the investigation heating up around him, Scott was still convinced he had nothing to fear. Just as he told Amber weeks before, he thought he would be free by the close of January. Did he think detectives would simply quit when Laci's body did not turn up, or was he convinced he had already won the game?

"Right," Amber agreed.

"Okay, so you got to go to bed, huh?"

"Yeah, I'm just jabbering now."

"Okay. Good night, sweetie," Scott said. "I'll talk to you maybe tomorrow, okay?" Amber hung up the phone knowing that Scott was only ninety miles away.

Over the next several days, Scott's employers confirmed the detectives' suspicions. In a phone interview from Madrid, his boss, Eric Van Innis, said that he hadn't seen Scott on December 14. That was the day he told Laci he had to pick up his boss in San Francisco-a lie to cover his date with Amber at her Christmas formal. Van Innis told police that the last time he'd come to the United States was in January or February 2002, when he flew into San Francisco Airport from Mexico.

Another executive from Tradecorp, Nuno Loureiro, a member of the company's board, told police he received an e-mail from Scott on December 26, relating that his wife was missing and he was assisting law enforcement in looking for her.

In the e-mail, Scott stated that he would "need a few days off." Scott didn't seem to think the case would take much time from his busy schedule.

After receiving the message, Loureiro spoke to Scott twice by phone. Scott explained to Louriero that his wife had gone for a walk with their dog on December 24, 2002. He said that someone may have seen her in a parking lot, and mentioned that a nearby home had been burglarized. It was all very matter-of-fact.

Loureiro agreed to cooperate with the investigation, and promised not to mention their conversation or the fact that police intended to review the company records.

Grogan, meanwhile, was alerted to a rumor that Laci Peterson may have been involved in an affair of her own. The rumor was bolstered by a second source, a caller to the Laci Peterson tip line, who stated that the expectant mother was dating a personal trainer from her gym. A third tip came in by e-mail that same morning, also indicating that Laci had been dating another man. Grogan turned the information over to Detective Bertalotto of the District Attorney's Office and asked him to follow up. It is not unusual for such allegations to arise in a case of this sort, but no evidence was ever found to substantiate these claims.

As he delegated duties, Grogan's cell phone vibrated. It was Scott, asking for the keys to his home and business, and requesting access to some business checks that he said were in the glove box of his truck. He needed to deposit those checks, he said, in order to make payroll.

Grogan told Scott that he would make inquiries. He called Scott back about an hour later to let him know that the keys would be at the reception desk at headquarters after 1:30 P.M. He then moved quickly to get a court-approved GPS tracking system installed on Laci's Land Rover before returning it. This would allow the police to survey Scott's movements without him knowing it.

Grogan called back to alert Scott that the police intended to release photos of his vehicle and boat in an attempt to verify his trip to the Berkeley Marina on December 24. When Scott didn't answer, he left a detailed voicemail. To Scott, it was all part of the game; threatening him with the pictures was just Grogan's way of trying to get a rise out of him.

Two hours later, Scott Peterson made the next move. Striding into the lobby of the police station, he requested to speak to Grogan. Moments later, the stocky detective greeted him with a firm handshake, and presented Scott with his wallet. In his hand, he held Scott's keys. Given Scott's previous concern about inventory receipts, he forestalled any challenge by reviewing each key carefully and returning them one by one. He did not mention that police had made copies. Grogan intended to keep the keys to Scott's 2002 Ford pickup and the toolbox in the truck's rear, and the remote for his car alarm.

Scott nodded, then told Grogan that he needed to retrieve two business checks from his truck. He also asked if police had taken any checks from the business office. Grogan told him no, but explained that a number of Scott's business records had been seized as part of the search warrant. Scott requested that Grogan find out which checks police had taken as evidence and arrange for their return.

Grogan told him that he could not release them without a court order.

Scott pressed the detective, telling him that it would be helpful if he could pay his employees, and instructed Grogan to do what he could to get them released.