Hush Little Baby (2 page)

Winter reached for his wine, then settled back in his seat and took a sip. His eyes didn’t stray from Yoko, not for a second. He was drinking white rather than red, she noted. It was just one of a hundred details that she’d picked up on since she walked into the restaurant. Like the fact he hadn’t bothered to shave for a couple of days, and the fact that there were red veins snaking through the whites of his eyes. And she’d called the T-shirt right, too. John Lennon from his Hamburg days. Brooding, intense and impossibly young.

He took another sip and she just sat there, waiting for him to crack, waiting for more denial. If necessary, she’d wait all day. He was acting like he couldn’t care less, but that was all a front. Their food arrived and they both said a distracted ‘thank you’. She picked up her fork and started to eat. Winter wasn’t eating. He was staring across the table. She started counting off forkfuls, and reached five before he finally spoke.

‘Not interested.’

‘Sure you’re not. That’s why you were staring at those photographs like they were the most interesting things you’ve ever seen.’

She counted off another seven forkfuls.

‘Not. Interested.’

She waved towards his plate with her fork. ‘You should eat before your food goes cold, Jefferson. You’re still way too skinny.’

‘And you’re not hearing me. I said I’m not interested.’

 Yoko sighed and laid her fork on her plate. She put it down gently but the sound of steel hitting porcelain sounded louder than it should have done. ‘Methinks you doth protest too much.’

Winter just stared and Yoko sighed again. She reached into her bag for the photocopies and laid them on top of the crime-scene photographs. The top sheet was facing away from her so Winter could read it. In the flickering candlelight the cut-out ransom-note letters looked sinister.

‘There are five letters in total. Three were sent to sheriff’s departments, two were sent to police departments, and copies of all five were sent to the BAU. They all said pretty much the same thing. “You’re all a bunch of idiots, you should have caught the killer by now. Why the hell are you just standing around with your thumbs jammed up your asses?” Obviously I’m paraphrasing here.’

‘What’s this got to do with me?’

‘We’re getting to that.’ Yoko stopped talking and ate another forkful of pasta. She chewed it thoroughly, swallowed, washed it down with some Coke. ‘Okay, the police are always getting crank letters, particularly during high-profile investigations, so notes like this one are par for the course. The big difference is that once you get past the insults, each letter contains suggestions on how they might catch the killer. Once again, nothing unusual there, everyone’s got an opinion, right? Except these insights were actually useful.’

Yoko stared across the table. Winter was sitting there with his mouth tightly shut. No admissions, no denials.

‘The suggestions in the first couple of notes were missed because nobody took them seriously. The idea that those suggestions could have helped the investigation only came to light
after
the bad guys were caught. On the basis of that, the last three notes were viewed more seriously. In all three instances the people investigating ended up pursuing new angles that proved to be more of a help than a hindrance. I’m not claiming that they provided the breakthroughs that were needed to crack those cases, but they certainly pushed things in the right direction.’

Winter was trying hard not to grin. Yoko could see his facial muscles twitching. The effort of keeping the corners of his mouth from turning up was obvious. He ate some pasta in an attempt to disguise the emotion. It didn’t work.

‘Nothing to say for yourself?’

Now he grinned. ‘If you ask me, they should give this guy a medal.’

She gave it a second to see if he had anything else to add. He didn’t.

‘Okay, here’s what I find really interesting,’ she went on. ‘The first three letters were sent from Virginia, the fourth from Georgia, the last from Florida. Virginia’s next door to Maryland, and gee, didn’t you go to college in Maryland? Letter number four came in after you graduated, and by some strange coincidence you were in South Carolina at the time it was posted. Once again, not a long drive in that little red Beetle of yours. And, would you believe it, letter number five was posted in Orlando a couple of weeks after you started working here. My guess is that you chose Orlando because you wanted to ride the roller-coasters. Two birds with one stone, does that sound about right?’

‘You
have
been stalking me.’

‘I’m not hearing any denials.’

Winter ate some more pasta. Slowly. He chewed and swallowed then washed it down with some wine. ‘Okay, hypothetically speaking, let’s say that I was responsible for those notes. It doesn’t necessarily follow that I’m going to come running to help you out just because you turn up on my doorstep. I’ve got a job. Commitments. Believe it or not, I’m happy here.’

‘No, you’re not.’

Winter sat back in his seat and picked up a napkin. He wiped his hands, wiped his mouth. The whole time he was doing this, his eyes didn’t stray from Yoko’s. ‘You’re wrong. I work a couple of hours a day playing the piano. The rest of the time, I get to sit in the sunshine and chill. What’s not to love about that?’

‘You’re wasting your life away is what you’re doing. And you’re nowhere near as happy as you’re making out.’ She tapped her fingers on the top photocopy, drawing his attention to it. ‘If you were, you wouldn’t be spending hour upon hour playing with scissors and glue and old copies of the
New York Times
.’

‘The
New York Times
?’

Yoko allowed herself a rare smile. ‘I’m with the FBI, remember? An analysis of the paper showed that it came from the
Times
. The fonts are consistent with the ones they use. Anyway, we’re getting off topic here. You could be anything you want, and you choose to be a cocktail-lounge pianist?’ She shook her head. ‘Sorry, not buying.’

‘This is a restaurant, not a cocktail lounge.’

‘And you’re missing the point.’

Winter was staring across the table again, the candlelight dancing through the greens and golds of his eyes. Once again, she was struck by the similarities between father and son. She’d been out to California to interview Albert Winter at San Quentin prison. She’d sat as close to him as she was now sitting to Jefferson. The obvious difference was that the table in the interview room at San Quentin didn’t have a quaint red-and-white tablecloth, or a candle, and there was nothing that could be used as a weapon left lying on top of it.

Father and son didn’t just share the same eyes. The similarities went much deeper than that. They had the same nose, the same mouth, the same-shaped cheekbones. She’d seen photographs of Albert Winter when he was younger. Jefferson could have been his twin brother, albeit the scruffier, more unkempt twin. The only major difference was their hair colour. Jefferson’s hair was black, whereas his father’s had been snow white. That said, it might have been the light, but Yoko thought she could detect the occasional grey hair peeking through. As far as she was concerned, those stray grey hairs only added to her belief that life wasn’t as easy and carefree as he was making out.

For a while they ate in silence, both lost in thought. From the short time they’d spent together last year, she knew that she shouldn’t push too hard. Do that and he’d shut down, and there was a good chance that he would end up playing piano to tourists and drunks for the rest of his life.

Chances were he might even end up a drunk. She still wasn’t sure what had caused the bloodshot eyes. Insomnia or alcohol? She was hoping for the former but suspected the latter. He claimed to be happy, but he wasn’t. He was a restless soul, and a troubled one. There was every chance that happiness was something that would always elude him. He finished his pasta, placed his fork in the bowl, wiped his mouth and hands on the napkin, then waited for her to meet his eye.

‘So what’s the bottom line here, Special Agent Tanaka? Are you offering me a job?’

‘I would if I could, but unfortunately I can’t do that. Those sort of calls are made above my pay grade.’

‘So what do you want?’

Yoko reached out and moved the photocopies aside, uncovering the crime-scene photographs. She separated them, tapped the space between them, waited for him to look.

‘I want you to work with me on this. Instead of hiding behind anonymous notes, I want you out there front and centre.’ She paused, searching for the right words. ‘I want to hear what you’ve got to say about all of this.’

Winter picked up the crime-scene photograph, studied it for a second, then peered over the top and smiled at her. ‘Okay, why the hell not?’

Winter’s Volkswagen Beetle was parked beside the Chevrolet that Yoko had rented at the airport. Even in the dying light of the day she could see that it was loved and cared for. The car was polished, the bodywork gleaming. This was an old-fashioned Beetle, all retro lines and kook charm. She still wasn’t sure what to make of the new Beetles. Nor was she sure what to make of a twenty-year-old kid who would keep his car clean to this degree. Winter found his keys and walked over to the driver’s door.

‘How much have you had to drink?’ she called over.

He stopped and placed a hand on the car roof. ‘Just a glass.’

Yoko raised an eyebrow.

‘Okay, maybe two glasses.’

‘And they were big glasses. We’ll take my car.’

‘No way. The stereo in mine is going to be way better than the stereo in any crappy rental car.’

‘Maybe so, but we’re taking my car.’

Winter looked over at the rented Chevy and shook his head. ‘I’ll follow you.’

‘And end up getting a DUI? Not going to happen.’

Yoko walked over to her car and got in. Less than ten seconds later the passenger door opened and Winter flopped into the seat.

‘Put your seatbelt on.’

He gave her a look, then buckled up. Without asking if it was okay, he switched the radio on and started flicking through the stations. Snippets of static and music flowed past in an annoying jumble of sound before he eventually settled on a classical station. He turned the volume up and sat back in his seat. The sound of an orchestra going full-tilt filled the car. Yoko found the volume button and turned the sound down.

‘Hey, what did you do that for?’

‘I’d prefer something less pretentious.’

‘Pretentious! This is Mozart’s Jupiter Symphony. It’s one of the most incredible pieces of music that has ever been written, or ever will be written.’

‘Find something else or turn it off.’

Winter gave a disapproving snort, then started flicking through the stations again. The percussive intro from ‘Sympathy For The Devil’ slinked out from the speakers. Bongos and shakers and images of Moroccan marketplaces. Jagger started singing and Yoko nodded in time with the beat.

‘This is more like it. Come on, you’ve got to admit that this beats Mozart every time.’

‘If you say so.’

Yoko started the car and reversed out of the parking slot. Ten minutes later they were on I-75 going north.

‘Are you going to tell me where we’re headed?’ Winter asked.

Yoko turned down the volume and glanced over. ‘You know exactly where we’re headed, Jefferson. And before you ask for a breakdown of what I know, how about we start with what you know? Oh, and one more thing, before you get it into your head and start pretending that you don’t know what I’m talking about, let’s consider a couple of things first. One, The Sandman is operating in Tampa, which is only an hour north of Sarasota. Two, are you really going to ignore something like this on your own doorstep?’

‘The Sandman.’ Winter shook his head dismissively. ‘Why does everyone feel the need to label these assholes? He poses the little girls to make it look like they’re asleep, so they call him The Sandman. What’s wrong with calling him the unsub? After all, that’s what he is. The unknown subject.’

‘You haven’t answered my question.’

 ‘I’m guessing that two new victims were found this morning. That’s enough time for someone to call Quantico, and for you to jump on a plane and fly down here. I’m also guessing that there were enough similarities between the crime scenes for you guys to conclude that this is a serial killer you’re dealing with.’

Yoko nodded. ‘Two for two.’

‘And I’m also guessing that your superiors have no idea that you’ve decided to travel to Tampa via Sarasota. They probably told you to get to the crime scene as soon as you could. Phrases such as “time is of the essence” and “go swiftly Special Agent Tanaka” would no doubt have been used.’

‘Let’s keep on topic here.’

‘The new victims’ names haven’t turned up on the news yet.’

‘Heidi Baker and Suzy Devlin. Heidi reverted to her maiden name when she got divorced.’

Winter muttered the names under his breath, nodding to himself.

‘What are you doing?’

‘I’m acquainting myself with the victims.’ Winter hesitated a second and Yoko sensed he had more to say, so she kept her mouth shut. ‘Do you want to know why the Tampa PD hasn’t solved this one yet? It’s because they’re focusing too much on the killer. They should be spending more time looking at the victims.’

‘And I’m with you on that one all the way. I believe that the victims are key here.’

‘Of course you do, but have you been able to look past the crimes? To see Heidi and Suzy as they were before they were murdered? To see them how the unsub saw them?’ Winter shook his head. ‘No way. You look at the crime scene and all you see is the mom lying dead in a pool of blood and the little girl looking like she’s asleep.’

‘And what do you see?’

‘I’d like to see the crime scene before answering that. Okay, your turn. Tell me about the victims.’

‘Heidi Baker was thirty-one. Caucasian, blond hair, blue eyes. She worked as a part-time beauty therapist. Suzy was six. Like mom, she had blond hair and blue eyes. By all accounts, Heidi worked hard and lived for the kid. Her neighbours didn’t have a bad word to say about her and she was popular with her work colleagues.’

‘What about the ex-husband? How does he fit into things?’

‘The divorce was amicable, if that’s what you’re getting at. At any rate, it was as amicable as these things ever are. The husband had a good relationship with Suzy. She stayed with him every other weekend. He isn’t a suspect.’

‘Maybe he should be. Maybe the divorce wasn’t as amicable as you’ve been led to believe. Maybe the first two sets of killings were a warm-up. Maybe he was just getting his nerve up. And maybe, just maybe, Heidi and Suzy were the real targets all along.’

‘That’s a lot of maybes, Jefferson.’

‘But that doesn’t mean it’s not possible.’

‘You’re right in theory. However, the ex-husband has already been checked out and his alibi is solid. He was in Miami on business when the murders happened. The police aren’t complete idiots, you know.’

Yoko glanced over and Winter smiled.

‘They’re not. And something you need to learn is how to play nice with the locals. Antagonise people and it only makes the job harder. This job is difficult enough as it is.’

‘And do you always play nice with the locals?’

Yoko stared at the highway stretching off into the distance while she thought about the best way to respond. ‘The BAU’s relationship with the local law-enforcement community is complicated. They view us as a necessary evil and treat us accordingly. They want our help and expertise because they want to catch the bad guys. The flipside of that particular coin is that by calling us in it’s almost as if they’re saying that they’re not up to the job.’

‘But they’re not.’

Winter’s face was as open and honest as a child’s. As far as he was concerned what he was saying was unequivocally true and he couldn’t understand how the rest of the world couldn’t see it.

‘Maybe so, but nobody wants to be reminded of their shortcomings. At best our presence is tolerated. At worst we get met with out-and-out hostility. However, and this is really important, so listen carefully: there is nothing to be gained by reacting negatively when they’re being idiots, and everything to lose. Our job is to catch the killer, don’t ever forget that. Sometimes that means you’ve got to bite your tongue.’

‘And I’m supposed to believe that. I’ve seen you in action, Special Agent Tanaka. You don’t strike me as a tongue-biter.’

‘I’ll admit that it doesn’t come naturally, but I try. At the end of the day, I do what I need to do to catch these monsters.’

‘Even if that means stepping over the line?’

Yoko glanced over and waited for Winter to meet her eye. ‘No, Jefferson, we never step over the line.’

‘Liar, liar, pants on fire.’

She turned away quickly and stared at the road ahead. In her mind she was tallying up the number of times she’d stepped over the line today alone.