Rules of Crime (5 page)

Monday, January 9, 8:35 a.m.

After the conference call, Jackson sent a vague but reassuring text to his daughter, then called Ivan Anderson. He’d done a thorough background check on the man before he even let Katie stay over on a weekend with Renee and her new boyfriend, and Anderson had come up squeaky clean. But everyone had a private life and Jackson didn’t really know the man. Didn’t want to. His ex-wife had lost her overnight parent privileges the last time she’d started drinking again, then slowly earned them back after getting out of rehab. Jackson knew Katie was coming to the age where he could no longer control where she spent her time, and it terrified him. Yet it was also strangely liberating.

Anderson answered on the second ring. “What’s happening?”

“We’re meeting with FBI agents in half an hour in the parking lot of the Catholic church, near Thirty-Ninth and Willamette. Where are you now?”

“I’m in my office downtown. I’ve cashed out most of my stocks and the exchange is wiring the money. Normally, it would take longer, but I made some calls.”

Jackson hated the thought of paying the perp, but he kept quiet. “I need Daniel Talbot’s home and work addresses.”

“Give me a second. The info is in my files somewhere.”

Jackson keyed Talbot’s name into the AIRS database while he waited. Two speeding tickets and a menacing complaint came up. Talbot’s neighbors had filed a report, claiming Talbot had
threatened them over a tree that straddled their property line. He’d denied the charge but let the neighbors trim the tree. The department hadn’t pursued it, but now Talbot’s threat seemed like part of a pattern.

Anderson came back on. “Talbot lives at 3355 Stoney Ridge Road and he owns Evergreen Construction, which has an office on East Amazon.”

Jackson made Anderson repeat the addresses as he wrote them down. Talbot’s home address matched what was in the database from 2002, so it seemed likely he still lived there. But if Talbot was the kidnapper, where would he keep his victim? As the owner of a construction company, he probably had access to empty and half-built houses around town, so the possibilities were numerous and daunting. Jackson felt a stab of guilt for thinking of Renee as
the victim
, but he had to stay objective or they’d kick him off the case. He was glad it wasn’t Kera or Katie who’d been taken, and he felt guilty for thinking that too.

“What do you know about Talbot that can help us?” Jackson asked. “Where is he building houses?”

“You think Renee might be at a construction site?”

“Just speculating.”

“I don’t know. Can you get a list from his office?”

“We’ll do that.”

“What else can I do?”

“Think about who else might have taken her. We don’t want to get locked into one suspect.”

“I have no idea. I don’t associate with criminals.”

“Then we have to think about who Renee might have known or come into contact with recently.” Jackson couldn’t imagine his ex-wife crossing paths with thugs either…unless she was drinking. “Have you searched Renee’s things?”

“For what?”

“Alcohol.”

“Why would I? How could that be relevant?”

“Renee is unpredictable when she drinks. She may have met someone and bragged about your money. I’m just trying to make sense of this.”

“I don’t believe it.”

Anderson didn’t know her yet.
“Send me a current picture of Renee. We may need it to show witnesses.”

The file arrived a minute later and Jackson printed five color copies. He stuffed them in his carryall and grabbed his jacket, but left his coffee on the desk. Adrenaline had been building in his system since the ransom text had come in and he felt a little toxic. This would be a round-the-clock case and he likely wouldn’t sleep much until it was over. He had to pace himself.

He stopped by Lammers’ office to give her Daniel Talbot’s information and she promised to have patrol units watch his locations until the FBI had people in place. Next Jackson updated Schak on the case and asked him to join the FBI meet-up. He left the building feeling better now that processes were in motion and Schak was on board.

Driving up Willamette, Jackson passed the huge grassy memorial park and thought about his murdered parents. Their ashes were interred in the Westhaven building, but he never visited. When he wanted to feel close to them he hiked Spencer Butte and gazed out at the city below, something they’d done as a family many times during his childhood. He’d wanted to spread their ashes on the butte, but his brother had insisted they put them in a vault where he could visit. Jackson didn’t understand the notion, but it had been important to Derrick, so he’d let it go. Just as he’d let his brother stay in their parents’ house instead of selling it. Some people had a harder time moving on.

He pulled into the church’s parking lot, mostly empty on a Monday morning, and spotted Agent River’s car immediately: a dark-gray sedan in the corner, far from the entrance to the three buildings. He parked next to her and climbed out. Another cold gray day that threatened snow. River got out too and they met behind the vehicles. She was tall for a woman, five-ten he guessed, and broad shouldered. Her eyes caught his attention: one was pool-water blue and the other a greenish brown. The difference was a little odd, but it didn’t detract from her face, which was otherwise pleasant. Jackson couldn’t guess her age.

“Good to meet you,” he said, after introducing himself. “I hear you’re new to Eugene.”

“I transferred from the Portland bureau when Jensen retired.”

“I look forward to working with you.” Agent Jensen had been great to work with so Jackson was optimistic. On the other hand, Agent Fouts, who’d been with the Eugene bureau for decades, was a little crusty.

“Likewise.” River offered her hand and Jackson was pleased by her strong grip. Big hands too. River continued, “Sergeant Lammers says you’re her best detective, so I’m glad to have you on the task force. The fact that it’s your ex-wife in captivity makes me a little nervous though.”

“I left Renee two years ago and stopped being in love with her long before that. I can be objective and professional.”

“Good. Do you have children together?”

“A daughter. She’s fifteen.”

“This must be hard for her.”

“Yes.”

Another gray sedan pulled in. Jackson was glad for the clump of trees that protected them from view of the street. Anyone noticing the group of dark sedans and people in matching dark suits would know law enforcement was up to something. He hoped the
kidnapper wasn’t patrolling the area. Anderson’s home was a half mile away on the other side of the memorial park.

River introduced Agent Fouts, a slim silver-haired man with a moon-shaped scar on his left cheek.

“We’ve met.” They shook hands anyway.

Jackson had worked with Fouts twice: once when a fanatic had bombed the Planned Parenthood clinic, and more recently when a group of Mexican drug runners had killed a man whose brother had stolen their meth.

Fouts’ scar was new and Jackson was curious. It was easy to assume the agent had been hurt in the line of duty. But the scar in Jackson’s own eyebrow was the result of a long-ago dog bite, a pathetic incident with no guts and no glory. Still, it had left him with a deep distrust of dogs.

“Our first cash-ransom hostage and it’s your ex-wife.” Fouts laughed. “I wish someone would take my ex-wives. Both of ’em.”

Jackson wanted to respond with his own joke but words failed him. Renee was Katie’s mother. Losing her would devastate his daughter. “I’m not the target. Her fiancé is.”

“I heard. Is he going to pay?”

“He’s getting the money together now.”

Another blue Impala like Jackson’s pulled in and they all watched Rob Schakowski climb from the car. Barrel shaped with a buzz cut, Schak looked more like an aging marine than a homicide detective, but he was sharp and had a bulldog-like tenacity. This time Jackson made the introductions.

“Where’s Anderson?” Agent River looked around. “I need to get a pen register on his phone immediately.”

“He’s coming.”

River looked at her watch. “It’s eleven fifteen, so we have less than four hours until their cutoff. Fouts and I need to stay in the house with Anderson so we can be there for every communication.
Agent Torres will be out here before the money-exchange deadline. We need to stall this for as long as we can. Once the tech van is here, they’ll be able to triangulate any calls or texts off nearby towers.”

“What’s our part?” Jackson asked.

“Get Renee’s cell info and have the company ping her phone. It may not be on her person but the kidnapper may still have it.” River snapped her fingers. “We need to locate Renee’s car too if we can. Both pieces of information will help us know where he abducted her from and where she might be now.”

“I have an ATL on her car already,” Jackson offered. “I told them to call you when they located it.”

River gave him a quick look of appreciation. He understood that she was heading this investigation.

Anderson drove up just as someone came out of the church and walked over. Before the churchwoman could ask what they were doing, River showed her badge. “FBI. We’ll be out of here in a few minutes.”

The woman spun around without a word.

Anderson hurried over. “I don’t have the money yet but it’s coming. What’s the plan?” His voice was wound a little tight.

River made more introductions. “We’ll head up to your house to wait for his next communication. I’ll ride in the back of your car with my head down in case he’s watching the house. Fouts will park behind the house and come in the back. After that, one of us needs to be with you at all times.”

“I have to return to the bank later to pick up the cash.”

Agent River reached over and touched Anderson’s arm. “I can’t advise you whether to pay or not but we’ll talk about some options later. Do you have other family members at home?”

“No. My daughter Dakota spends some weekends with me but she has her own place.”

“How old is she?”

“Twenty-four.”

“Where is she now? I’m a little concerned about her safety.”

“She’s at work and I haven’t told her about Renee yet. She’s a television reporter.”

“If we don’t grab the kidnapper at the money drop today, I’ll assign someone to watch her.”

“She’ll hate that. She’s so independent.” Anderson rubbed his face. “I’m sure she’s safe at work but once she leaves the station…” His voice trailed off.

Jackson was more worried Dakota would be tempted to break the story on live TV, but it didn’t seem like the right time to share his distrust of newspeople.

River turned to him. “You can retrace Renee’s steps just the way you would a missing person. If we find out where she disappeared from, it might give us information. Any questions?”

Schak suddenly spoke up. “Have you handled a kidnapping before?”

River gave him a crooked smile. “I’ve worked several child abductions but never a ransom demand. They’re not very common.” She held up a small spiral brochure and grinned. “But I have my handy guidance.”

Jackson tried not to groan. The point person on Renee’s kidnapping was reading off cue cards.

“Will we have more people in place for the money drop?” Schak shifted on his feet and glanced at Jackson.

“Yes. Agent Torres and Agent Gilson will join us soon. And we have the tech and surveillance teams coming down from Portland. Let’s make sure we all have each other’s phone numbers.” River displayed hers for them to key into their devices. “And of course we’ll use our radios when we’re in proximity.”

After a moment of quiet while they keyed in phone numbers, River said, “Let’s go.”

Jackson had mixed feelings about his role in the case. He wanted to stay with Anderson and be on the spot when the kidnapper’s next demand came in. Yet sitting around waiting was not his strong suit and he was glad to have leads to track down.

As the FBI agents drove away, Jackson turned to Schak. “Renee’s cell phone is with T-Mobile. Will you follow up on that while I try to retrace her steps on Saturday?”

“Will do.”

Jackson sat in his car for a moment, trying to map a plan of action, and realized he needed more information. He called Anderson. “You said Renee went out shopping Saturday. Where did she go?”

“I think she mentioned Macy’s, but I’m not sure. I don’t really pay attention to those things.”

“What was she wearing?”

“Why?”

“It could be important.” Renee had certain clothes and shoes she always wore for high-end shopping.
Dressy but comfortable
, she’d explained.

“Jeans and a red sweater, I think.”

“Thanks.” Jackson hung up, knowing Renee had not gone out shopping Saturday afternoon. What had she been up to?

He started his car and headed for the liquor store at Twenty-Ninth and Willamette. If Renee had lied to her fiancé about where she was going, then alcohol was involved. Unless she’d taken up cheating too, but he didn’t believe that. Renee was a good person…with a devastating disease.

CHAPTER 6

Jackson drove down Donald Street, worried about Eugene, where he’d lived his whole life. Once a small, peaceful, college town, it had grown rapidly since he’d joined the department two decades ago. Now unemployment, meth, and gang rivalries threatened citizens’ safety, while jail beds lay empty for lack of funding. Still, there was nowhere else he wanted to live. An hour from the ocean and forty minutes from the mountains, it was ideal. He loved Eugene, with its lush, green-canopy streets, beautiful university, and lack of skyline. Except for the goofy retirement home at the base of the butte, Eugene didn’t have any tall buildings. But it was big on trees and even the gas stations planted shrubs and flowers.