Hunter placed the flashlight on the dresser. ‘Homicide Special.’
Myers eyes widened. She knew exactly what that meant. For a beat she seemed lost for words. ‘When?’ she asked.
‘When what?’
‘Don’t play dumb. You don’t look the type, and I’m through fucking around. Do you know when Jensen died?’
Hunter studied Myers’ face and saw a hint of desperation there. He mechanically checked his watch before conceding. ‘Yesterday.’
‘Was her body found yesterday or did she die yesterday?’
‘Both. She’d been dead for only a few hours when we found her.’
‘Whoever took her kept her for almost three weeks before killing her?’
Hunter didn’t reply. He didn’t need to. Myers knew exactly the implications of such an act by a kidnapper/ murderer.
‘How was she murdered?’ she asked.
Silence.
‘Oh c’mon, I’m not asking for any major investigation secrets. I know the protocol and I know what you can and cannot disclose. If not from you, how long do you think it’ll take me to find that information out? A couple of phone calls, maybe. I’ve still got contacts and connections in the force.’
Hunter still said nothing.
‘Fine. I’ll find out my way then.’
‘The killer used a knife.’
Myers ran the tips of her fingers against her upper lip.
‘How many victims?’
Hunter looked back at her curiously.
She continued. ‘How many victims have you got so far? If you’re Homicide Special it means this guy has either killed before or Kelly Jensen was killed in a particularly horrific way. . or both. And if I had to take a guess I’d say both.’
Hunter remained silent.
‘You’re looking for a serial killer, aren’t you?’
‘For someone who used to be a cop, you sure jump to conclusions very quickly.’
Myers’ eyes moved away from Hunter.
‘OK, it’s your turn to share,’ he said. ‘Who’s this ex-boyfriend you’re working for?’
Myers didn’t want to embroil herself further in her lie. ‘You want information from me now?’ Her eyebrows arched.
‘Are we back playing games again, sweetheart?’ Hunter challenged. ‘I thought you said you were through fucking around.’
Myers glared at him again.
‘Kelly Jensen is dead. Murdered in a way your nightmares couldn’t produce. Your Missing Persons case is over. That’s all you need to know.’
‘Client/investigator confidentiality privileges don’t end once the case is over. You know that.’
‘The ex-boyfriend could be a suspect.’
A second of hesitation.
‘He isn’t,’ Myers said confidently. ‘Or do you think I didn’t have him thoroughly checked out before taking the case. And you said that Kelly was killed yesterday. He’s been out of the country for five days.’
‘If you’re so sure of his innocence, why not give me his name and let me check him out too.’
A long, uncomfortable moment played out between them before Myers put out her right arm, the palm of her hand facing up. Her eyes staring straight into Hunter’s. ‘Can I have my ammunitions clip back?’
Hunter knew she was asking for a trust gesture. A give in order to receive kind of thing. He slowly retrieved the magazine from his pocket and placed it in her hand. Myers didn’t load it into her gun. Instead, she just stared at it for a long moment. Her lie was snowballing into something she knew she wouldn’t be able to control. She needed to get out of there before she made a mistake.
‘You know I can’t give you his name. If I do I’ll never get another client again. But I can hand you everything I have on the case. Maybe you can find something there.’
Hunter saw her right eye twitch ever so slightly.
Myers looked down and checked her watch. ‘Give me a few hours to gather everything together and you can have whatever I have.’
Hunter continued to observe her.
‘I know where to find you.’
Hunter watched Myers leave the room before reaching into his pocket. He looked down at the Private Investigator’s ID he’d slipped out of her leather wallet.
‘And I know where to find you,’ he whispered to himself.
Fifty-Six
Kelly Jensen’s art studio was a refurbished mechanic’s garage behind a row of shops in Culver City. The street was narrow and hidden away from the main roads, at the top of a small hill. To the right of her studio was a small parking lot, where all the shop owners kept their vehicles during the day. At that time at night it was completely empty. The only light came from a lamppost on the corner, its bulb old and yellowing. Hunter looked around for security cameras. Nothing.
The studio was spacious and well organized. There were shelves and drawers for every different paint color, type of brush, palette, and canvas sizes. All finished paintings were placed on a large wooden rack that occupied the entirety of the north wall. There was only one canvas stand, positioned just a few feet from the large window that faced west. Kelly liked watching the sunset while working, Hunter guessed. A paint-splattered cloth covered the painting on the stand. Unlike Laura Mitchell, Kelly seemed to only work on one canvas at a time.
Hunter lifted the stained cloth and checked the painting underneath it. Dark, shadowy skies against a placid lake that surrounded the ruins of an old building on top of a steep sloping hill. Hunter stepped back to get a better view.
Kelly was a realist painter, and the effect she achieved with that particular canvas was so vivid it was like standing at the shore, looking out into the horizon. But she’d done something Hunter had never seen before. It was as though the whole scenery was seen through a smoky glass. Everything had a sad, gray tint to it, as if the weather was about to close in on you with a vengeance. The painting looked so real it made Hunter feel cold. He pulled the collar of his jacket tighter against his neck.
Kelly’s ample working space was uncluttered. The only furniture around the place were the shelves and drawer units against the walls, the storing rack, and an old, beat-up armchair several feet away from the window, facing the canvas stand. There were no six-foot canvases, partitions, or anything else for that matter. No place for anyone to hide behind. There was an improvised kitchen area in one corner, and a small bathroom in the opposite one. Hunter checked everywhere. There was no way the killer could’ve waited and then sneaked up on Kelly in there without her noticing it.
Hunter walked back up to the window and stared out into the night. Because her studio was at the top of a hill, the view was unobstructed and quite astonishing. No wonder Kelly used to paint facing that view. He checked the locks. All quite new and very secure. The small parking lot was to the far left, but only part of it was visible from the window.
Suddenly, just a couple of feet from where he was, something moved outside the window with incredible agility.
‘Shit!’ Hunter jumped back, his hand going for his gun.
The black cat ran the length of the window ledge in just a split second. Hunter stood motionless, both arms
