FREEZING
Chapter One
THE tang of warming eucalyptus intensified with the breeze
and Jayne took her eyes off the California Highway Patrol
officer to locate the shimmering trees half a block away where
they flanked the 101 Freeway. She looked back at the officer. He
was listening to the static-bound information emanating from his
radio while his eyes traveled over the Jeep’s roll bar, dipped into
the back on to the twin toolboxes, then returned to Steelie’s slim
frame in the driver’s seat, her hand resting casually on the gear stick
but her expression hidden by the peak of a faded pink baseball cap.
‘You’re the scientists?’ The CHP officer put the question even
as he beckoned their escort.
A motorcycle rumbled to life a few feet away and its driver pulled
in front of them, keeping a foot on the ground as he looked back,
lower face serious under a helmet and sunglasses. Steelie gave a
loose salute and the motorcycle moved forward.
They followed the bike’s zigzag around the Highway Patrol sedans
that had made a maze of the Sunkist building’s parking lot. Near the
northwest corner, the CHP bike peeled off, leaving them facing a
wall of dark blue Chevrolet Suburbans. Steelie halted the Jeep. The
Suburbans were stationary but their engines were humming and their
headlights were on. Both women waited, expecting to see some movement
from behind the heavily tinted windows. Nothing happened.
Steelie kept her own engine running. ‘If this was Buenos Aires circa
nineteen seventy-eight, we’d be running for our lives right about now.’
Jayne murmured agreement. After a moment, she pushed her
sunglasses into her hair to constrain waves that had been whipped
into something unruly when the open-topped Jeep had been bucking
over surface joins on the freeway, then she leaned down to put
double knots in her bootlaces.
Steelie abruptly turned off the engine. ‘I see your man.’
Jayne paused on her second lace but refrained from sitting up.
He’s not my man.’
‘Well, he’s on his way over and . . . looks to me like he’s
still sporting dark blond hair over a furrowed brow over
green eyes over a smirk atop five feet eleven inches of
I-don’t-know-what’s-under-that-suit-but-I’ll-take-it.’
Amused, Jayne straightened up, assuming Steelie was exagger-
ating. She wasn’t. At a distance, Special Agent Scott Houston
appeared unchanged from when they’d last seen him at Quantico
five years earlier. Jayne glanced at Steelie, who was taking off her
cap; her short, choppy haircut exposed how the silver amongst the
blonde was no longer relegated to the sideburns that had
generated the nickname when she was much younger. For her part,
Jayne felt sixty-five, not thirty-five and figured she had some of the
outward changes to go with it. Suddenly self-conscious, she alighted
from the Jeep just as Scott reached its front bumper; close enough
for her to catch his quick assessment of her from head to toe. They
didn’t speak as they shook hands slowly.
‘Not bad,’ he finally said.
Surprised, she smiled. ‘You’re not looking so bad yourself.’
His mouth almost twitched into a grin. ‘I meant how fast you
made it here. Speeding, were you, Steelie?’
He finally released Jayne’s hand and turned to Steelie, who was
coming around the car.
‘You want our help or not, Houston?’ She clasped his hand briefly.
He smiled. ‘Follow me. I’ll introduce you to the team.’
Jayne and Steelie walked behind him with their toolboxes over
to the far side of the Suburbans where a huddle of four men broke
up, lowering clipboards and clearing throats. Three of them were
dressed like commandos and Scott introduced them as the ‘Critters’
from the Federal Bureau of Investigation’s Critical Stabilization and
Recovery Unit, there to maintain chain of custody for any evidence
collected that day. Scott then addressed his team, inclining his head
toward the women.
‘Jayne Hall and Steelie Lander. They run Agency Thirty-two One,
an outfit that does forensic profiles of missing persons, matching
them up with unidentified bodies or living Does. I called them in
because they’re forensic anthropologists and they do dental as well.
Steelie here’s a triple threat ’cause she’s also a lawyer, so watch
your P’s and Q’s. These are the people who’re going to tell us if
what we’ve got is human, so we defer to them at the scene. OK?’
There were polite nods all round, then Scott said he would take
a minute to brief the newcomers. The Critters cleared the area but
the one man Scott hadn’t yet introduced kept his stance, feet spread,
one hand held over the other in front of his body, causing the fabric
of his suit to pull slightly over muscular arms. Jayne noticed his
skin was almost as brown as her own, but his hair was dark and
straight, and his eyes – she averted her own. He had been looking
at her looking at him.
Scott said: ‘My partner, Special Agent Ramos.’
Jayne started. ‘You’re Eric? Eric Ramos?’
He stepped forward to shake her hand. ‘Uh-oh, what’s he been
saying about me?’
‘No, I mean . . . it’s a pleasure to meet you.’
‘In that case, Scott,’ Eric glanced at him as he turned to greet
Steelie. ‘I’ll get you your money later.’
‘All right, let’s get started,’ Scott said. ‘We’re dealing with a
single vehicle accident around five this a.m. on the One-oh-one right
here behind us. A guy’s car takes out part of the side railing. Guy
tries to get out of a DUI charge by telling Highway Patrol he rear-
ended a van, then had to swerve to avoid a body.’
‘A body lying on the freeway?’ Jayne asked.
‘No, that’s the thing. Guy says the body came out of the van he
hit. Happened to have noticed the van earlier because it had a peach
on the license plate and this guy just had a bellyful of peach schnapps.’
‘Peach plate,’ Steelie mused. ‘Georgia?’
‘Got it in one. So, there was no sign of a body but CHP reports
that the side railing scraped off part of the front of this guy’s car.
Anything could have dropped down under the freeway because it’s
one of the sections with a berm sloping off it on the north side. Lots
of vegetation, creating a basic ravine situation. They secured the area
as soon as their flashlights picked up what they thought were BP’s.’
Jayne glanced toward the ravine. ‘How many body parts are we
talking about?’
Eric answered her. ‘We don’t know yet.’
‘OK,’ said Steelie slowly. ‘I don’t want to seem uninterested but
why were you so insistent on calling us in? Why not Rudin or
Sweetzer? This is their beat.’
‘Coroner’s office can’t spare Rudin because of the crematorium
investigation and they said Sweetzer’s on her honeymoon. But . . .
there’s another reason.’ Scott crossed his arms and took a deep
breath, only to look up at the sky.
Jayne looked to Eric. He was focused on a tarmac fissure at her
feet.
Scott exhaled his story like a confession. ‘Eric and I have some
open cases from Georgia involving body parts. All female, none yet
identified. We believe they’re related to the disappearance of a number
of prostitutes in and around Atlanta. We figured it for one serial killer,
not a bunch of Johns who just didn’t want to pay the sex workers.’
Jayne scanned Scott’s face. ‘You never told me about this case.’
He looked away.
Eric took up the slack. ‘Look, our boss wasn’t convinced by our
reading of the facts so he scaled back our investigation. Finding
this perp became the Holy Grail for us. Then we got transferred to
LA and that killer’s still out there.’
Steelie asked, ‘What makes you think the material in the ravine
is related to your Georgia cases?’
‘If the stuff is human, then it’s the MO of dismemberment in
combination with the type of vehicle: multiple witnesses recalled
the missing Atlanta women last being seen getting into a van.’
Scott added, ‘When CHP notified us this morning that there was
a van wearing a Georgia plate involved in this mess, we made it
Federal and put on our thinking caps.’ He finally met Jayne’s eyes.
‘Thus the early morning call to you.’
Jayne nodded slowly. ‘So you want us to confirm human, non-
human, sex? What else? Because this isn’t our area anymore. We’re
dealing with families, not bodies.’
‘Ever noticed how the wick goes all the way through a candle?’
Scott asked.
She frowned at the apparent non sequitur.
He re-started, ‘A candle couldn’t burn if the wick didn’t go all
the way through. That’s why you can burn it from either end.’
‘Is that supposed to mean something in this context?’
Eric cut in. ‘He’s trying to say that we’re all doing the same
thing, just starting at different ends. You’re trying to make ID’s by
starting with missing persons; we’re starting with their bodies. And
I’ve heard from Scott that you two have done more than your fair
share of body work with the UN. If anyone’s qualified to check out
this site, it’s you guys.’
‘So,’ Scott said. ‘Can we do this?’
Jayne and Steelie nodded and Scott called over one of the Critters
who arrived holding some flat nylon straps with clips on the ends.
He spoke with a deep voice when he identified himself as Agent
Weiss. ‘When we get over to the site, you’ll see that the best way
to get up there is for me to winch you up. Can I get you two fitted
out?’ He unfurled the straps to show they were fixed into a harness
that resembled underpants.
Steelie stepped forward to get into the rig as the others watched
and she leaned on Weiss’ shoulder for balance. ‘Y’know, Scott, you
didn’t have to go to all this trouble just to see me in some underwear.’
Eric choked back a surprised laugh. ‘Hang on. How long have
you guys known each other?’
Steelie replied, ‘Since Houston here was still in training pants.’
‘Not training,’ Scott corrected. ‘Trainee. And it was a uniform.’
‘It was a training gun, though, right?’
Eric looked over at his partner. ‘Is she talking about the red ones
we use at Quantico?’
‘Before your time, Ramos.’ He looked at Jayne. ‘Can’t you rein her in?’
‘No,’ Jayne said, stepping into her own harness. ‘I can’t.’
But by now Steelie had Eric’s attention. ‘When Jayne and I were
at Quantico, we watched a classmate of Scott’s run a semi-covert
op to steal his gun.’
His eyes widened as he looked at Scott. ‘From the back of your pants?’
‘She didn’t succeed,’ Scott downplayed. ‘And then I stole hers.’
‘Yeah!’ Steelie rejoined. ‘And she yelled at him from the other
side of the bar like it was NASA Control. “Houston? We got a problem.”
So then he——’
‘Eric doesn’t need the rest of that story,’ Scott interrupted. ‘You
ready, Jayne?’
They followed a CHP officer to the edge of the parking lot and
clambered over a low concrete wall to descend into the ravine. They
hiked along the bottom for a short distance. Past the Sunkist property
line the ravine narrowed and became more overgrown; eucalyptus,
vinca, shreds of plastic bags, all sprouting with equal vigor. It was
darker and cooler because the sun hadn’t filtered down yet. The
group fell silent.
The officer slowed and called back to them, pointing to the left
where the berm led up to the freeway. ‘The material’s up there. We
marked a wide perimeter with flags. The slope is steep and it is
slippery.’ He stepped to the side, using the trunk of a small tree as
a handhold.
Jayne and Steelie hung back while the Critters moved in to do
their work. Then Scott turned to the anthropologists and said, ‘OK,
Thirty-two One, tell us what we got.’
The two women moved to the front of the group, the clicks of
the power buttons on their flashlights echoed by clicks on others’
as people followed their lead. Ten seconds passed as they looked
up the berm from below. Brown leaves, wet leaves, wet tissue
exhibiting pale, red blotches.
‘Well, it’s human. I can tell you that from here,’ declared Jayne.
‘In that case,’ Scott said, ‘I authorize you to take a closer look.’
Weiss clipped their harnesses to a rappelling rope and checked
all the connections. Once they were lined up with Jayne in front,
he started winching and she and Steelie climbed the slope. As soon
as they were parallel to the body parts, they leaned toward them at
various angles.
Steelie called down to the others. ‘We’re not going to touch
anything because you guys will have to detail-photo this first, OK?’
‘Ten-four, ma’am,’ came the reply.
‘OK,’ Jayne murmured to Steelie. ‘I’m seeing two arms, present
from the shoulder down, all fingers present. A chunk of thigh and
knee . . . left. You seeing the same thing?’
‘Yeah, plus I’ve got another chunk of torso down here. Everything’s wet.’
‘Is it just wet around the BP’s? Or is that condensation?’
They both looked around. Everything else was dry and dusty,
like Southern California should be in the summer.
‘What’s the deal?’ asked Jayne. ‘The parts aren’t fresh but they
don’t look like they’re decomping either.’
‘They’re not,’ Steelie replied. ‘Listen. Do you hear that?’ She
held her hand up and Jayne stopped moving, cocking her head to the side.
In between the rushes of sound that accompanied the passing traffic on
the freeway above them, there was a distinct sound. Sip, sip . . . sip . . . sip, sip.
Then, before their eyes, out of the tissue visible in the cross-section of the
exposed left knee, came a droplet. It was a watery red shimmer, hanging,
then dropping from the tissue on to the bed of leaves below.
‘Not decomping . . .’ said Steelie. ‘Defrosting.’
They straightened up.
Jayne called out, ‘Houston.’
‘Yo,’ came his voice from below.
‘We got a problem.’ She wasn’t smiling.
and Jayne took her eyes off the California Highway Patrol
officer to locate the shimmering trees half a block away where
they flanked the 101 Freeway. She looked back at the officer. He
was listening to the static-bound information emanating from his
radio while his eyes traveled over the Jeep’s roll bar, dipped into
the back on to the twin toolboxes, then returned to Steelie’s slim
frame in the driver’s seat, her hand resting casually on the gear stick
but her expression hidden by the peak of a faded pink baseball cap.
‘You’re the scientists?’ The CHP officer put the question even
as he beckoned their escort.
A motorcycle rumbled to life a few feet away and its driver pulled
in front of them, keeping a foot on the ground as he looked back,
lower face serious under a helmet and sunglasses. Steelie gave a
loose salute and the motorcycle moved forward.
They followed the bike’s zigzag around the Highway Patrol sedans
that had made a maze of the Sunkist building’s parking lot. Near the
northwest corner, the CHP bike peeled off, leaving them facing a
wall of dark blue Chevrolet Suburbans. Steelie halted the Jeep. The
Suburbans were stationary but their engines were humming and their
headlights were on. Both women waited, expecting to see some movement
from behind the heavily tinted windows. Nothing happened.
Steelie kept her own engine running. ‘If this was Buenos Aires circa
nineteen seventy-eight, we’d be running for our lives right about now.’
Jayne murmured agreement. After a moment, she pushed her
sunglasses into her hair to constrain waves that had been whipped
into something unruly when the open-topped Jeep had been bucking
over surface joins on the freeway, then she leaned down to put
double knots in her bootlaces.
Steelie abruptly turned off the engine. ‘I see your man.’
Jayne paused on her second lace but refrained from sitting up.
He’s not my man.’
‘Well, he’s on his way over and . . . looks to me like he’s
still sporting dark blond hair over a furrowed brow over
green eyes over a smirk atop five feet eleven inches of
I-don’t-know-what’s-under-that-suit-but-I’ll-take-it.’
Amused, Jayne straightened up, assuming Steelie was exagger-
ating. She wasn’t. At a distance, Special Agent Scott Houston
appeared unchanged from when they’d last seen him at Quantico
five years earlier. Jayne glanced at Steelie, who was taking off her
cap; her short, choppy haircut exposed how the silver amongst the
blonde was no longer relegated to the sideburns that had
generated the nickname when she was much younger. For her part,
Jayne felt sixty-five, not thirty-five and figured she had some of the
outward changes to go with it. Suddenly self-conscious, she alighted
from the Jeep just as Scott reached its front bumper; close enough
for her to catch his quick assessment of her from head to toe. They
didn’t speak as they shook hands slowly.
‘Not bad,’ he finally said.
Surprised, she smiled. ‘You’re not looking so bad yourself.’
His mouth almost twitched into a grin. ‘I meant how fast you
made it here. Speeding, were you, Steelie?’
He finally released Jayne’s hand and turned to Steelie, who was
coming around the car.
‘You want our help or not, Houston?’ She clasped his hand briefly.
He smiled. ‘Follow me. I’ll introduce you to the team.’
Jayne and Steelie walked behind him with their toolboxes over
to the far side of the Suburbans where a huddle of four men broke
up, lowering clipboards and clearing throats. Three of them were
dressed like commandos and Scott introduced them as the ‘Critters’
from the Federal Bureau of Investigation’s Critical Stabilization and
Recovery Unit, there to maintain chain of custody for any evidence
collected that day. Scott then addressed his team, inclining his head
toward the women.
‘Jayne Hall and Steelie Lander. They run Agency Thirty-two One,
an outfit that does forensic profiles of missing persons, matching
them up with unidentified bodies or living Does. I called them in
because they’re forensic anthropologists and they do dental as well.
Steelie here’s a triple threat ’cause she’s also a lawyer, so watch
your P’s and Q’s. These are the people who’re going to tell us if
what we’ve got is human, so we defer to them at the scene. OK?’
There were polite nods all round, then Scott said he would take
a minute to brief the newcomers. The Critters cleared the area but
the one man Scott hadn’t yet introduced kept his stance, feet spread,
one hand held over the other in front of his body, causing the fabric
of his suit to pull slightly over muscular arms. Jayne noticed his
skin was almost as brown as her own, but his hair was dark and
straight, and his eyes – she averted her own. He had been looking
at her looking at him.
Scott said: ‘My partner, Special Agent Ramos.’
Jayne started. ‘You’re Eric? Eric Ramos?’
He stepped forward to shake her hand. ‘Uh-oh, what’s he been
saying about me?’
‘No, I mean . . . it’s a pleasure to meet you.’
‘In that case, Scott,’ Eric glanced at him as he turned to greet
Steelie. ‘I’ll get you your money later.’
‘All right, let’s get started,’ Scott said. ‘We’re dealing with a
single vehicle accident around five this a.m. on the One-oh-one right
here behind us. A guy’s car takes out part of the side railing. Guy
tries to get out of a DUI charge by telling Highway Patrol he rear-
ended a van, then had to swerve to avoid a body.’
‘A body lying on the freeway?’ Jayne asked.
‘No, that’s the thing. Guy says the body came out of the van he
hit. Happened to have noticed the van earlier because it had a peach
on the license plate and this guy just had a bellyful of peach schnapps.’
‘Peach plate,’ Steelie mused. ‘Georgia?’
‘Got it in one. So, there was no sign of a body but CHP reports
that the side railing scraped off part of the front of this guy’s car.
Anything could have dropped down under the freeway because it’s
one of the sections with a berm sloping off it on the north side. Lots
of vegetation, creating a basic ravine situation. They secured the area
as soon as their flashlights picked up what they thought were BP’s.’
Jayne glanced toward the ravine. ‘How many body parts are we
talking about?’
Eric answered her. ‘We don’t know yet.’
‘OK,’ said Steelie slowly. ‘I don’t want to seem uninterested but
why were you so insistent on calling us in? Why not Rudin or
Sweetzer? This is their beat.’
‘Coroner’s office can’t spare Rudin because of the crematorium
investigation and they said Sweetzer’s on her honeymoon. But . . .
there’s another reason.’ Scott crossed his arms and took a deep
breath, only to look up at the sky.
Jayne looked to Eric. He was focused on a tarmac fissure at her
feet.
Scott exhaled his story like a confession. ‘Eric and I have some
open cases from Georgia involving body parts. All female, none yet
identified. We believe they’re related to the disappearance of a number
of prostitutes in and around Atlanta. We figured it for one serial killer,
not a bunch of Johns who just didn’t want to pay the sex workers.’
Jayne scanned Scott’s face. ‘You never told me about this case.’
He looked away.
Eric took up the slack. ‘Look, our boss wasn’t convinced by our
reading of the facts so he scaled back our investigation. Finding
this perp became the Holy Grail for us. Then we got transferred to
LA and that killer’s still out there.’
Steelie asked, ‘What makes you think the material in the ravine
is related to your Georgia cases?’
‘If the stuff is human, then it’s the MO of dismemberment in
combination with the type of vehicle: multiple witnesses recalled
the missing Atlanta women last being seen getting into a van.’
Scott added, ‘When CHP notified us this morning that there was
a van wearing a Georgia plate involved in this mess, we made it
Federal and put on our thinking caps.’ He finally met Jayne’s eyes.
‘Thus the early morning call to you.’
Jayne nodded slowly. ‘So you want us to confirm human, non-
human, sex? What else? Because this isn’t our area anymore. We’re
dealing with families, not bodies.’
‘Ever noticed how the wick goes all the way through a candle?’
Scott asked.
She frowned at the apparent non sequitur.
He re-started, ‘A candle couldn’t burn if the wick didn’t go all
the way through. That’s why you can burn it from either end.’
‘Is that supposed to mean something in this context?’
Eric cut in. ‘He’s trying to say that we’re all doing the same
thing, just starting at different ends. You’re trying to make ID’s by
starting with missing persons; we’re starting with their bodies. And
I’ve heard from Scott that you two have done more than your fair
share of body work with the UN. If anyone’s qualified to check out
this site, it’s you guys.’
‘So,’ Scott said. ‘Can we do this?’
Jayne and Steelie nodded and Scott called over one of the Critters
who arrived holding some flat nylon straps with clips on the ends.
He spoke with a deep voice when he identified himself as Agent
Weiss. ‘When we get over to the site, you’ll see that the best way
to get up there is for me to winch you up. Can I get you two fitted
out?’ He unfurled the straps to show they were fixed into a harness
that resembled underpants.
Steelie stepped forward to get into the rig as the others watched
and she leaned on Weiss’ shoulder for balance. ‘Y’know, Scott, you
didn’t have to go to all this trouble just to see me in some underwear.’
Eric choked back a surprised laugh. ‘Hang on. How long have
you guys known each other?’
Steelie replied, ‘Since Houston here was still in training pants.’
‘Not training,’ Scott corrected. ‘Trainee. And it was a uniform.’
‘It was a training gun, though, right?’
Eric looked over at his partner. ‘Is she talking about the red ones
we use at Quantico?’
‘Before your time, Ramos.’ He looked at Jayne. ‘Can’t you rein her in?’
‘No,’ Jayne said, stepping into her own harness. ‘I can’t.’
But by now Steelie had Eric’s attention. ‘When Jayne and I were
at Quantico, we watched a classmate of Scott’s run a semi-covert
op to steal his gun.’
His eyes widened as he looked at Scott. ‘From the back of your pants?’
‘She didn’t succeed,’ Scott downplayed. ‘And then I stole hers.’
‘Yeah!’ Steelie rejoined. ‘And she yelled at him from the other
side of the bar like it was NASA Control. “Houston? We got a problem.”
So then he——’
‘Eric doesn’t need the rest of that story,’ Scott interrupted. ‘You
ready, Jayne?’
They followed a CHP officer to the edge of the parking lot and
clambered over a low concrete wall to descend into the ravine. They
hiked along the bottom for a short distance. Past the Sunkist property
line the ravine narrowed and became more overgrown; eucalyptus,
vinca, shreds of plastic bags, all sprouting with equal vigor. It was
darker and cooler because the sun hadn’t filtered down yet. The
group fell silent.
The officer slowed and called back to them, pointing to the left
where the berm led up to the freeway. ‘The material’s up there. We
marked a wide perimeter with flags. The slope is steep and it is
slippery.’ He stepped to the side, using the trunk of a small tree as
a handhold.
Jayne and Steelie hung back while the Critters moved in to do
their work. Then Scott turned to the anthropologists and said, ‘OK,
Thirty-two One, tell us what we got.’
The two women moved to the front of the group, the clicks of
the power buttons on their flashlights echoed by clicks on others’
as people followed their lead. Ten seconds passed as they looked
up the berm from below. Brown leaves, wet leaves, wet tissue
exhibiting pale, red blotches.
‘Well, it’s human. I can tell you that from here,’ declared Jayne.
‘In that case,’ Scott said, ‘I authorize you to take a closer look.’
Weiss clipped their harnesses to a rappelling rope and checked
all the connections. Once they were lined up with Jayne in front,
he started winching and she and Steelie climbed the slope. As soon
as they were parallel to the body parts, they leaned toward them at
various angles.
Steelie called down to the others. ‘We’re not going to touch
anything because you guys will have to detail-photo this first, OK?’
‘Ten-four, ma’am,’ came the reply.
‘OK,’ Jayne murmured to Steelie. ‘I’m seeing two arms, present
from the shoulder down, all fingers present. A chunk of thigh and
knee . . . left. You seeing the same thing?’
‘Yeah, plus I’ve got another chunk of torso down here. Everything’s wet.’
‘Is it just wet around the BP’s? Or is that condensation?’
They both looked around. Everything else was dry and dusty,
like Southern California should be in the summer.
‘What’s the deal?’ asked Jayne. ‘The parts aren’t fresh but they
don’t look like they’re decomping either.’
‘They’re not,’ Steelie replied. ‘Listen. Do you hear that?’ She
held her hand up and Jayne stopped moving, cocking her head to the side.
In between the rushes of sound that accompanied the passing traffic on
the freeway above them, there was a distinct sound. Sip, sip . . . sip . . . sip, sip.
Then, before their eyes, out of the tissue visible in the cross-section of the
exposed left knee, came a droplet. It was a watery red shimmer, hanging,
then dropping from the tissue on to the bed of leaves below.
‘Not decomping . . .’ said Steelie. ‘Defrosting.’
They straightened up.
Jayne called out, ‘Houston.’
‘Yo,’ came his voice from below.
‘We got a problem.’ She wasn’t smiling.
© 2013 Clea Koff
