Anyway, before it can get too steamy between them, Ruiz pops his head in to say they have something. Back at Cooper's desk, his screen is showing footage of the body-dumping car with the driver hiding his face from the security cameras. They remark that the driver knew cameras would be there, as though that's a surprise when talking about someone capable of temporarily disabling every electronic device in sight. After running the license plate, Cooper has learned that the car belongs to one Daniel Frye. "Who's that?" Ruiz asks. "Dickwad reporter," Cooper says. " El Paso Times." The Times has a dickwad beat? I kid, though; I should probably be grateful that a character named Frye on this show didn't wind up behind the grill at Denny's.
He's played by a somewhat-gone-to-seed Matthew Lillard, rocking a goatee and horn-rimmed glasses that make him look a lot like Gordon Freeman from the Half-Life games. He snakes an illicit beer from the work fridge and returns to his desk, where he gives a female coworker a hard time about the piece she's working on about "anchor babies." "I don't know, and I deeply don't care, and guess what, neither do the fifteen other people that read this rag," he drones obnoxiously. He continues in this vein, blowing off her warnings about their editor, lording his superior experience over her, and generally proving Tim Cooper at least half right about him.
Down in the parking ramp, Frye goes to his car and gets in, clearly unaware that it's been recently used in connection with an international double murder. Even when the doors lock automatically, trapping him inside, he doesn't appear to fully apprehend the gravity of the situation. At least not until he notices a sticker on his windshield with wires trailing along the ceiling and into the backseat, where sits some kind of sinister-looking device with an iPhone running a timer app. And the clock apparently started counting down from twenty minutes when his doors locked themselves. "Shit," he murmurs curiously, and then begins throwing his shoulder against the inside of the door. So clearly the name Frye refers to not what he does, but what is about to be done to him.
Cross and Ruiz hop out of the Crossmobile just outside a police barrier near the newspaper office. Ruiz asks her what Frye's story is, since he's apparently not been answering her calls on the way over. She says he's a pill addict who's been arrested for battery. "Organized enough to freeze a girl for a year and slice a judge in half?" Ruiz wonders. Hey, that sounds easier than the other way around. Cross just says it was his car on the bridge, and asks the cops at the barrier what's up. One of them tells her about the car bomb. "A black BMW?" she asks. Getting confirmation, she waves her badge and blows through the outer cordon with Ruiz in her wake. They get to the police line just outside the ramp exit, where the guy manning the tape says Frye called it in and this is as far as Cross and Ruiz are going. I wonder if Cross gets tired of seeing her name on crime scene tape all the time. Ruiz suggests Cross to call Frye's phone again. Yes, the situation definitely calls for someone talking to a piece of wire in their hand.