First Offense (13 page)

“You can’t search the moving van,” Glen said quickly. “Not without another warrant. The present warrant specifies only the house.”

“Look, Hopkins,” Reed said, one lip curling up in distaste, “I know you have your concerns, but what if this person without fingers is alive and bleeding to death in that van? What if Ann did see something?”

Hopkins grabbed the detective’s arm. Reed jerked it away angrily. “Don’t go near that van without a warrant,” the district attorney barked. “Do you hear me? If you do, no matter what you find, you won’t be able to use it. Wait until we do it the right way and get another warrant. Need I say more?”

“Hey,” Reed spat, “you’re the D.A.”

“Come on, Ann,” Glen said, “I’ll give you a ride back to the courthouse.”

“Not now,” Ann said, her eyes still on the detective. “Do you think I imagined this. Tommy? Tell me. Come on, I want to hear it from your own lips.”

Again, Reed just shrugged his shoulders. “Where’s Sawyer?” he yelled out to another detective.

A disembodied voice yelled back, “With Harper out back.”

“I saw those fingers. Tommy.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t believe you, kid,” Reed said, his voice lower. “But there are no fingers here now.”

“He must have disposed of them before we got here,” Ann said, her face flushed with anger. “Didn’t I tell you he’d come back and get rid of the fingers?”

Reed, though, was eager to get outside and see what Sawyer had to say. In any case, it was time to clear out so the crime scene men could get cracking. He’d been in police work too long to sit around and ruminate over what they should or should not have done. “Look, we’re going to transport Sawyer as soon as we get things going here. I’ll let you sit in on the interview.”

“Fine,” Ann said, watching as he walked away. Go on, she thought, make a fool of me in front of everyone and then toss me a bone like a damn dog. So, it was her fault for insisting on the warrant. Was that what had put a burr up Reed’s ass? Was the detective blaming her for not going along with Glen’s suggestion and altering the truth to suit their needs? Or did he just think she was a hysterical female who didn’t know what she had seen?

Either way, Ann was boiling.

After instructing the officers to canvass the neighborhood and see what they could learn about the occupants of 875 Henderson, Tommy Reed drove his vehicle back alone.

He pulled into the back of the station and parked. Then he sat there staring out the windshield. The sun was setting like a huge orange persimmon, and the sky was blazing with color.

His gaze fell and he began mentally sorting through the details of the case. They’d have to get warrants issued and pick up the other two boys. The only problem was what grounds they could use for the warrants. If the crime scene unit found no signs of drug paraphernalia in the boxes or anywhere else in the house, it would be next to impossible to substantiate warrants for these other subjects. “Oh, hell,” he said, getting out of the car.

When he entered the detective bay, Ann sprang to her feet. She’d been waiting in the chair by his desk. “Where’s Sawyer?” she asked.

“One of the patrol units is bringing him in.”

“Listen, those fingers have to belong to a female, Tommy. I saw streaks of nail polish on them. We need to check missing persons and see if there’s a report out.”

Reed removed his jacket and draped it over the back of his chair. “Even if we find a missing person report on a female, Ann, what’s that going to tell us? The only thing that will substantiate your story is a stiff without fingers.”

Ann was still pissed, and Reed knew it. Her body language said it all: arms folded over her chest, chin up, a determined glare in her eyes. In response, he donned his stoic “just the facts” look, wanting her to know that he was the homicide detective, while she was only the probation officer.

“Then check all the morgues,” Ann said. “Then check the missing person reports on females both locally and in Los Angeles.”

Reed bent over his desk, jotting some notes down on his yellow pad as he talked. “In L.A. there have to be twenty-five people or more reported missing every day. Most of the missing person reports they just kiss off. They don’t even write them. All they do is note it in the log book.” He continued writing, ignoring Ann completely now. A few moments later, a uniformed officer appeared with Jimmy Sawyer in tow.

“Where do you want him?” the young officer said.

Reed told the officer to take Sawyer to an interview room and then saw the captain waving to him through the glass window. Forced to wait outside, Ann looked in and saw Glen pacing back and forth, waving his hands around. Several times she saw Reed glance at her, a scowl on his face. She was dying to know what they were talking about, if they were talking about her.

When Reed came out, he was tense. “Captain says Noah should conduct the interview.”

“Why Noah?” Ann cried. “You’re the sergeant. This is a serious case.

“Because he’s investigating your shooting, and Sawyer is now a valid suspect…his suspect.” He stopped and ran his fingers through his hair. “And look, I never said I didn’t believe you about the fingers. I don’t know why you’re so bent out of shape. They weren’t there, that’s all.”

“You thought it, though,” Ann said, softening. “And the other men did too.”

“Hey,” he said, smiling, “you can’t blame me for what other people think.”

Ann returned his smile. She had more than enough enemies lately; she didn’t need to alienate her friends. “I still get to sit in on the interview, right? You said I could.”

Reed frowned. “Why don’t you go home and get some rest? We have Sawyer in custody now. Noah could trip him up in the interview. I’ll also get in touch with Melanie Chase at the lab and see if she can expedite processing whatever evidence they collected from the house.” Reed was avoiding her question, and he saw that she knew it. Frowning, he cleared his throat before continuing. “Ann, the captain pointed out that you’re basically a victim in this case, and department policy is that we don’t allow victims to take part in the actual investigation.” He threw up a hand to still her protests. “You know, there’s a lot of inherent liability here. Sometimes people go out and take their own revenge, and their relatives sue the department. He’d rather you not hang around the station right now. He even chewed me out for bringing you with us when we executed the search warrant.”

Ann felt as if someone had slammed a door in her face. She was the one who had been shot, had almost bled to death on the sidewalk. All the same, she could see it was out of her hands. She could buck Reed, but she couldn’t buck department policy.

“Okay,” she said, resigned. “I guess I’ll go home.”

As Ann made her way out of the police station, she purposely passed the door to the room she knew had one-way glass, and impulsively turned the knob. When she found it locked, she confirmed her suspicions that it was the room where they were holding Sawyer. Was Abrams inside now interrogating him? Placing her ear against the door, she tried to eavesdrop and then chastised herself, knowing she would look foolish if anyone walked by. It was just so difficult to walk away, knowing that the very person who had shot her was right here, right behind that door. She wanted to interrogate him herself, confront him, get to the bottom of this right this second. And she should have that right, she told herself, no matter what Reed and the others said. She might be the victim, but Sawyer was still her probationer.

Then the horrid fingers flashed in her mind, and she was relieved that she wouldn’t be the one locked inside that room with Jimmy Sawyer. If he had sliced off some poor woman’s fingers and saved them in a pickle jar, he was evil personified. They could never predict what he would do next, how far he would go, just as they had no idea how many other heinous crimes he may have committed. Exiting the building and getting in her car, another terrifying thought passed through her mind. If Sawyer hadn’t used a gun and shot her, would he have used a butcher knife instead?

She didn’t want to know.

Chapter
7

N
oah Abrams stopped by his desk to pick up his tape recorder. “Let’s hope he’s a braggart,” he said to Reed as they walked down the hall. “Are you going to monitor the interview from the observation room?”

“No,” Reed said, “but Glen Hopkins is. Sawyer’s all yours, Noah. Do your stuff. I’m trying to put some other things together, get the records bureau making calls to morgues. If those really were fingers Ann saw, there’s got to be a body floating around somewhere.”

When Abrams stepped inside the interview room, Jimmy Sawyer was sitting quietly with his hands folded in his lap and an innocent, expectant expression on his face, unaware that he was being watched through one-way glass. “Jimmy Sawyer,” the detective said, loosening his tie and sliding his jacket off his shoulders. “We meet again, huh? Not exactly the same kind of circumstances as the night Ms. Carlisle was shot.”

Jimmy Sawyer smiled inappropriately and flipped his long hair behind his shoulders. His teeth were white and even, the product of years of expensive orthodontics. Then he saw the tape recorder, and the smile slid right off his face.

Taking a seat at the long table, Abrams sized up his opponent. The detective was an excellent interviewer, able to win a subject’s confidence and put him at ease. Once they were nice and relaxed, he pounced.

“Last time we had a little talk, it was about your probation officer, Jim. Seems she’s causing you a lot of trouble lately. Oh, is it Jim or Jimmy?”

“Whatever,” the cocky young man said. “People call me both.”

“Well, you can call me Noah if you want,” the detective said, congenial and soft-spoken. “Why don’t we dispense with the formalities?”

“Nice tie,” Sawyer said. “Is that James Dean?”

“Yeah,” Abrams said, holding it up to look at it. “I have one with Marilyn Monroe on it too. I like the fifties. What about you?”

“The only thing I know about the fifties is what I saw on
Happy Days
, the TV show.”

“Then how did you know it was James Dean?”

“Give me a break,” Sawyer said, scoffing. “Everyone knows about James Dean. I saw this movie once on the late show with him.
Rebel Without a Cause
. Pretty good. The best part was the drag race to the edge of that cliff.”

“You like dangerous things, huh?” Abrams said.

Sawyer was too smart to answer that one. “Does this mean I’m under arrest?”

“Not necessarily. Right now we’d just like some answers.”

“Oh, I see,” Sawyer said slowly. There was a rattling noise under the table. He’d worn the boots with the chains and spurs and was resettling his feet. “Answers, huh?”

“If you want, we can talk about this incident today and try to clear it up. If you don’t, we can wait for you to retain an attorney and then discuss it. It’s your decision.”

“I’ll talk,” Sawyer said confidently and chuckled. “This is so silly, you know. I can’t believe it. She really told you guys I had pickled fingers in my refrigerator?”

“Yep, she sure did, Jimmy. Why do you think she would say a thing like that if it weren’t true?”

Sawyer didn’t hesitate for a second. “I really hate to tell you this…but she’s angry. She just made it up to get back at me.”

Noah Abrams could smell bullshit in the air. “And why’s she angry?”

The boy didn’t blink. His eyes were cold and determined as he leaned over the table. “Because we were lovers.”

Noah kept his face emotionless, but his stomach lurched with anger. Ann was a decent woman, a good woman. It sickened him just to sit across from this scum, knowing he might have shot her. Now what was he saying? “Lovers, huh? You and your probation officer were lovers?”

“Just for the past two weeks,” Sawyer said tentatively, testing the waters. “She made a move on me the first time I ever saw her, after court that day.”

“Oh, really?” Abrams said, his voice louder than he intended. “And where did this happen?”

“In a storage room outside her office. See, I was waiting for her in the hallway. I wanted to clear some things up, some things about what the judge said.”

“Go on,” Abrams said, softening his voice. He had a piece of paper and a pencil on the table and started doodling to control his temper.

“Well, it was time to go home, I guess. In fact, I think most of the people in her office had already left. I saw them walking out before I saw Ann.” Sawyer stopped short and stared off in space, as if envisioning the scene. “We talked. She was nice. After she explained what the judge meant, she asked if I had a girlfriend and I told her I didn’t. She said we should get to know each other, since she was handling my case.” Abrams shot him a nasty look, but Sawyer took it in stride. “Then she told me to step into this room with her for a minute so we could talk privately. That’s where it happened.”

“What exactly happened, Jimmy?” Abrams said. At that moment he pressed down so hard on his pencil that the point broke off. Irritated, he cast the pencil aside.

“She told me that she could get my probation changed so I didn’t have to report every month and piss in a bottle. She…she said she liked me, thought I was cute or something.” Sawyer looked up, pleased with himself. He’d had lots of other girls, so he knew this part rang true. “Oh, she also told me that her husband was dead. Hey, she was flirting like mad, a real horn dog, you know.”

“No shit?” Abrams said, raising his eyebrows as if he were swallowing it all whole. Inside, though, he was burning. Sure, the man knew what had happened to Hank. When she was shot, they’d covered the whole story in the newspapers. Be cool, Abrams told himself, play the game. This was one interview he didn’t want to blow. “You’re one lucky fuck. Sawyer,” he said, chuckling. “I wouldn’t mind putting it to her myself, but she’s never come on to me. Anyway, then what happened?”

Sawyer smiled. This was going great. He had this cop in the palm of his hand. “We kissed each other, okay? She’s a pretty good kisser. Then she let me grab her tits. Not much there, let me tell you.” Jimmy laughed loudly, enjoying his own story. “Anyway, after I fucked her, I left. I drove around the block and then I started thinking about her.”