“Of course. I’ve got to make a quick phone call, but I’ll bring it in shortly.” Vi smiled pleasantly, turned and sat back at her desk.
Yeah, Jane deduced, Vi was a pro. Jane waited.
Now pick up the phone to make it look real
, she said to herself. As if the woman heard Jane’s thoughts, she lifted the receiver and dialed a number.
Damn
,
she’s good.
Jane knocked on Bo’s door and walked inside. Weyler was seated across from Bo who was standing at his desk, his belly
resting comfortably on the cluttered desktop. He was smoking a cigar.
“Glad you could make it!” Bo said with the usual contempt he saved for interchanges with Jane. “You take part in a hog tying contest?” He motioned with his cigar to her muddy shirt.
Jane glanced at Weyler who shot her a look of silent reproach.
“We got the phone number of the cell phone we found in the trunk. Area code 201.” Bo held the paper up with the phone number. “It’s in New Jersey. Just like where Jordan Copeland is from. We checked his file and it’s real similar to the phone number his parents had when they lived back there. Starts with the same three numbers…379.”
“The Van Gordens are also from New Jersey. Wentworth.”
“What in the hell has that got to do with anything?” Bo grumbled.
“Well, your number-one suspect
and
the family of the kid he’s allegedly kidnapped, hearken from the same state.”
“So what’s the connection?” Bo asked.
“I don’t know. But it’s just a little too coincidental. So, let’s call the number.”
“Call it?” Bo exclaimed. “Why? To hear his cell phone ring?”
Jane maneuvered around the boxes scattered on Bo’s floor and sat in the chair next to Weyler. “You said the first two phone calls that came in when the kidnapper left voicemail messages didn’t display any number on your Caller ID, right?” Bo nodded, puffing nervously on his cigar. “Now, suddenly, there’s a phone number? He’s not stupid. If he wanted to block it, he’d block it. He’s obviously hip to some kind of technology.”
“So what are you suggesting?” Weyler put forth.
“It’s too ironic that a disposable cell phone has a New Jersey area code and the two people involved in this case are both from New Jersey.”
“Maybe the kidnapper’s from New Jersey, too?” Bo offered.
“And he’s workin’ with Jordan. Maybe they knew each other at some time? Maybe from his stint in prison?”
Bo’s presumptions actually sounded reasonable to Jane—everything except the guy was working with Jordan. Then again, there were a few statements Jordan made to Jane regarding the clues that there was no way he’d have any knowledge of unless he was involved in some way. That closing comment of Jordan’s, “You can’t go home again,” was still ringing loudly in Jane’s ear. “Call the number,” Jane instructed.
“
Why
?”
“I think it’s another clue. I think the guy
spoofed
the number. And I think he did it for a reason.” Jane had to explain the art of “spoofing” to Bo and Weyler. It was becoming a relatively well-known practice by both pranksters and those with more nefarious motives. Spoofing was the practice of allowing the telephone network to display a specific phone number on the Caller ID, which was not the actual number from where the call was originating. By signing up with one of the many Internet spoof providers, all a person had to do was pay in advance for a PIN number, which allowed them to make a call for a certain amount of minutes. When they entered the PIN number, they were asked to enter the number they wanted to call and the number they wished to appear on the Caller ID. Some of the spoof providers even had options for altering one’s voice once the connection was made, allowing for a man to sound like a woman and vice versa. “This guy knows what he’s doing. The phone is likely a Wal-Mart throwaway. Just like a drop phone that drug dealers use. He paid cash for it, so no records. Good for one number only.
That number
!” Jane pointed to the New Jersey number in Bo’s hand. “Call the number and see who answers. And put the phone on speaker so we can all hear.”
Bo looked a little suspicious. He grumbled about not knowing how to use the speaker feature on his phone and promptly called in Vi who effortlessly dialed the number, increased the volume and hit the
SPEAKER
button. “This is your idea,” Bo said
to Jane. “You talk to whoever answers.”
“Hello?” The man’s voice sounded both elderly and ill.
Jane leaned over Bo’s desk, speaking into the phone. “Hello, sir. My name is Detective Jane Perry. I’m calling from Denver, Colorado.” Bo looked quizzical at her but she held up her hand.
“Where?” The man sounded irritated.
“
Denver, Colorado
,” Jane repeated with increased volume and enunciation.
“Don’t know anyone in Denver.”
“I’m a detective, sir. I’m calling on police business.”
“What kind of business?”
Jane asked the usual establishing questions. His name was David Sackett. He was eighty-one. Sackett volunteered that he wasn’t well and suffered from emphysema
and
lung cancer.
Christ,
she wondered, is
anybody not dying from cancer these days?
“How long have you had this number, sir?” Jane asked.
“How long? Oh, well, since we moved into the place. It’s been over forty years with the same phone number. We inherited the number from the last family who lived here. Moved here in February of 1968…back when it was quiet.”
“I just want to confirm this number, sir.” Jane took the phone number from Bo and rattled it off, along with the area code.
“Everything’s right except for the area code,” he said with a marked wheeze. “They changed from
201
to
973
awhile back.” The prospect of spoofing was becoming much more probable in Jane’s opinion.
“May I ask what town you live in, sir?”
“Sure. Short Hills.”
Bo looked at Weyler with heightened interest. Jane whispered to Vi to retrieve Jordan’s file. Vi quickly left the office.
“But when you got the phone number back in 1968,” Jane continued, “it was area code 201, right?”
“Yeah. What’s this all about?” His breathing was labored.
“We’re working on a case, sir. I can’t divulge the details right now. But it would be extremely helpful if you could tell me your address.”
Vi returned with Jordan’s file.
“Sure. It’s 43 Warwick Road, Short Hills, New Jersey.”
Jane wrote the address down on a piece of paper. Vi scanned the page that held old information on Jordan, including his parents’ address. “It’s not the same address,” Vi whispered to Jane.
Jane whispered back, asking for Jordan’s parents’ first names. Vi found the information and pointed to it on the page. “Sir, this might be an odd question, but did you ever know Richard and Joanna Copeland. They had a son, Jordan Copeland?”
“Jordan Copeland? The child killer?”
Obviously, forty-one-year-old murder cases die hard in Short Hills. “Yes, sir.”
“Why in the hell would I fraternize with that family?”
This was getting tricky for Jane—especially since she had an audience watching her every move. “Well, sir, you say you bought the house in February of ’68.” Jane checked Jordan’s file. “Jordan Copeland was arrested in early July of the same year. I just wondered if Short Hills was small enough back then that you might have run into the family at some time.”
Sackett let out a painful cough. “We were new in the neighborhood. We didn’t make a point of getting to know our neighbors. We didn’t even realize how close the Copelands lived until we heard the sirens and saw the police cars all around their house.”
Jane leaned closer to the phone. “How close did they live to you?”
“One block over, directly behind our property as the crow flies.” Sackett coughed again, this time longer and louder. “Listen, I gotta go. If you need anything else, you call. Goodbye.”
The blare of the dial tone rang out in Bo’s office until Vi depressed the
SPEAKER
button and hung up the phone. She excused herself and returned to her desk. Jane collected Sackett’s
phone number and address, and stashed it in her pocket.
“Goddamnit!” Bo exclaimed. “Jordan Copeland is involved in this mess!”
“We don’t know that for sure,” Jane warned.
“I don’t have to go to Mars to know it’s colder there than a well digger’s ass!” He put down his cigar and leaned across the desk. “You talk about coincidences? Here we got a guy who lives one block away from where Copeland lived…”
“Yeah, over forty years ago…” Jane reminded him.
“Who cares?! What are the odds? If you’re right and the person who has Jake spiffed, spocked, spoofed this Sackett guy’s phone number, there’s got to be an obvious reason for it!”
“Yeah, he’s setting up Jordan!”
“
Settin’ him up
?! Christ Almighty, woman! Which side are you butterin’ your bread on? Have you read what Copeland did to that poor little retard forty-one years ago? He shot him point blank in the head in his backyard! And then he dragged his dead body to his bedroom and hid it under his bed!” Bo leaned over the desk. “
Are you hearing me
?”
“Yes! Loud and clear!”
“I tell you, stupidity hangs around longer than a bad cold.” Bo settled back in his chair.
Jane regarded him with a hostile eye. “Excuse me? If that was directed at me, then I guess I’m just stupid enough to figure out the whole phone spoof!”
Weyler held up his hand. “Enough!” He looked at Jane with the glare of an unhappy father.
Bo stared at Jane, pointing his chubby finger in her direction. “Look, if you want to water more dead trees, you do it on your own time! We work this case with the clear understanding that Jordan Copeland is most likely involved in this, either alone or with a partner.”
“That’s an assumption,” Jane said quietly. “Just because the light turned red, doesn’t mean the traffic stopped.” It was a comment meant to mirror Bo’s love of corny sayings but it fell on
deaf ears.
“Until we have enough hardcore evidence to show different,” Bo ordered, “Jordan Copeland is in my damn scope and I will not hesitate to pull the trigger on his guilty head!”
Vi popped her head into the door. “Bailey Van Gorden is on line one, Bo.”
Bo ran his fat fingers through his comb over. “Aw, shit.” Bo picked up the phone.
Fuck
, Jane thought. This was going to hurt. She leaned over toward Weyler. “I tried to call you, Boss, but I didn’t have any cell coverage.”
Weyler leaned closer and whispered. “Was that before or after you fell into that mud hole inside your Mustang?” His eyes were tense and unnerved.
Jane figured it was time to get out of there. She stood up, moving around the boxes.
“Hold on there!” Bo bellowed toward Jane. “Hang on,” he said to Bailey. Bo motioned Vi toward the phone to put him on
SPEAKER
. Jane felt the walls closing in on her. “Go on with what you were saying…”
“I’m driving back with my mother who I just picked up from DIA and I get a call from my wife that your Denver detective was nosing around my private office
in my home
! What in the hell is going on over there?!”
Weyler regarded Jane with a look that was between anger and shock. Jane stayed mum while all eyes in the room focused on her.
“Are you there?!” Bailey screamed into his phone.
“Yes, sir!” Bo answered.
“I wasn’t being nosy, for God’s sake,” Jane whispered, in a weak attempt to defend herself.
“I don’t know where that bitch got the idea that she has a right to show up unannounced at my home!” Bailey screamed.
“Yes, sir!” Bo affirmed, shooting Jane daggers.
The sound of a woman’s voice could be heard in the
background. “It’s inappropriate…” the woman said.
“It’s
inappropriate
!” Bailey yelled. The woman spoke again in the background saying something about “this case.” Bailey quickly spoke up. “She should be taken off this case immediately!”
Jane didn’t care what Bailey was saying; she was more interested in the fact that this blowhard, egotist was allowing his mother to feed him verbal cues of righteous indignation. In Jane’s opinion, the whole thing was coming off as a bit peculiar, given that Bailey Van Gorden seemed to regard women with indifference and disfavor. What kind of perverse control did this woman have over her only son?
“Yes, sir. I see what you’re sayin’! I’ll take care of it!” He hung up and pointed his fat finger at Jane. “I don’t know how Beanie trained you, but I sure as hell wasn’t taught to cross the lines that you do on the job! You show up here with your Denver attitude…”
“My Denver attitude?” Jane questioned.
“You got a mile-high chip on your little shoulder! How you ever got the accolades you got is beyond me! I’d have sent your ass packin’ years ago!”
“Hey, I never asked for accolades! I just did my job and went home at night!”
“And then drank yourself under the goddamn table!”
Jane looked at Weyler in shock. It took a lot to sting Jane, but that one hurt. She spun on her heels and bolted out of the building. Weyler followed close behind.
“Jane!” he yelled at her as she headed across the street.
She stopped and turned back to him. “You tell him I was a drunk?”
“Of course not!” Jane walked back to the curb. “He’s just looking at you and making assumptions.”
“Like the assumption that I’m
stupid
?”
“Good God, Jane. You had no business going to the Van Gordens’ house and you know it!”
“I tried to call you…”
“I don’t care!” He lowered his voice. “And don’t lie to me about how you got your shirt muddy…
again
.” Weyler looked around to make sure nobody was listening. “Do you have any idea how you going on Copeland’s property and observing him could seriously compromise this investigation?”