The Night Stalker

Hunter noticed that the group of guys sitting at the table to his right had all turned to look at her; two of them were almost drooling. Hunter’s eyes moved from Myers to the glass in front of him and then back to her.

‘Balvenie, 12-year-old single malt,’ she announced before touching her glass against his. She was drinking the same. ‘It’s always a pleasure finding someone else who appreciates a proper drink.’

Hunter placed his hands on the table but didn’t say anything.

‘Wow, you look shattered,’ she continued. ‘And I’m sorry about that.’ She gestured towards the cut above his eyebrow before placing a palm on the left side of her torso. ‘You were right, my ribs aren’t broken, but they’re bruised to shit.’

Still silence from Hunter, but it didn’t seem to bother her.

‘I must admit, your file is quite a read. A child prodigy. Really?’ She pulled a face. ‘Attended the prestigious Mirman School for the Super Brainy on a scholarship, and cruised through their entire curriculum in two years. After that, Stanford, also on a scholarship. Received your PhD in Criminal Behavior Analysis and Biopsychology at the age of twenty-three? That’s impressive.’

Not a word from Hunter. Myers carried on.

‘Made detective in record time and was immediately asked to join the RHD. . now that really is impressive. You must’ve kissed a lot of ass or impressed the hell out of some important people.’

Still nothing from Hunter.

‘Now a detective with the infamous HSS, and you’re affectionately called the one-man zombie squad by most of your department.’ She smiled. ‘Cute nickname. Did you come up with that yourself?’

She continued, unfazed by his lack of response.

‘Your specialty is ultra-violent crime, and you hold an impressive arrest record. Your book is still mandatory reading at the FBI National Center for the Analysis of Violent Crimes. Have I left anything out?’

Hunter had never written a book, but one of his university professors was so impressed with his thesis paper on Criminal Conduct that he forwarded it to his friend at the FBI academy in Virginia, who passed it on to the academy director. A few weeks later a young Robert Hunter was invited to Quantico to talk to a class of experienced officers and instructors. The one-day talk became a week-long seminar, and at the end of it the director asked Hunter’s permission to use his thesis as required reading material for all field officers. Now no one graduates from Quantico without reading it.

‘So you read my life story,’ Hunter finally said. ‘It must’ve been a pretty boring few minutes.’

‘On the contrary. I thought it was very colorful.’ Myers smiled again. ‘Though there’s a strange gap. For a couple of years it seems you just disappeared off the face of the earth. Not a scrap of information on you anywhere. And my research team is the best there is.’

Hunter said nothing.

‘I have to ask you this: why the hell did you become a cop? With a resume like that you could be with the FBI, NSA, CIA, take your pick.’

‘Do you have an obsession with getting me a new job?’

She smiled.

The waitress brought Hunter his shrimp platter. As she walked away, Hunter’s eyes moved from his glass to Myers. ‘I ordered orange juice.’

‘I know,’ she replied casually. ‘But you would’ve ordered Scotch anyway. I was just saving you some time.’ She paused. ‘You must be hungry. Look at the size of that platter.’

‘Would you like some?’

She shook her head. ‘I’m fine, thanks. Knock yourself out.’

Hunter dipped a jumbo shrimp into the pot of hot sauce and took a bite.

Myers waited a few seconds. ‘If you’re as good as your file says you are, then you’ve also checked me out, and by now you will know I lied.’

Hunter nodded. ‘There’s no ex-boyfriend.’

Myers studied Hunter’s face for a moment. ‘But you already knew that yesterday, right?’

He nodded again.

‘If you knew I was lying, why didn’t you take me in?’

‘No point. You used to be a cop. You knew there was really nothing we could do to force you to tell us who your client really is. If you didn’t want to co-operate, we would’ve just wasted a lot of time. And time is something I don’t have. Call it a little professional courtesy.’

Myers smiled. ‘Bullshit. You thought you could find out whom I was working for on your own. But it wasn’t quite so easy, was it?’

They regarded each other for a moment.

‘The reason I was in Kelly Jensen’s apartment last night was because I wanted to follow a hunch,’ Myers finally admitted, taking a sip of her drink.

‘And that hunch was. .?’

‘That Kelly’s disappearance and the disappearance of the woman I’m looking for were connected.’

Hunter put his fork down.

‘I didn’t find anything in her apartment to confirm that hunch. She wasn’t taken from there. But there are other similarities that are hard to ignore.’

‘What other similarities?’

‘How many victims?’ Myers countered. ‘How many victims have you got so far? And I’m seriously not fucking around this time. If you wanna know what I know, you’ve gotta talk to me.’

Hunter sat back and used a paper napkin to wipe his mouth. ‘Kelly Jensen was the second victim.’

Myers nodded and placed a photograph of an attractive brunette on the table. ‘Was this the first victim?’ She held her breath.

Hunter’s eyes moved to the picture. On looks, the woman in it could’ve been Laura or Kelly’s sister. He shook his head. ‘No, that’s not her. . Who is this?’

Myers breathed out. ‘She’s not on any Missing Persons list,’ she continued. ‘Her father tried to report her as missing but MP ran her through their regular six-point checklist. She met only one condition, so they weren’t immediately prepared to allocate time to her.’

‘Who is she?’ Hunter repeated.

Myers sat back. ‘Her name is Katia Kudrov. She’s the principal violinist concertmistress with the Los Angeles Philharmonic.’

‘A musician?’

‘That’s right.’ Myers paused. ‘The first victim, was her name Laura Mitchell?’

Hunter sat back in his chair. It was obvious that Myers had done her homework where missing persons were concerned.

Myers waited.

‘Yes, Laura Mitchell was the first victim we found.’

The tips of Myers’ fingers moved straight to her upper lip. ‘She was also a painter. This killer is after artists.’

‘Wait up, it’s too soon to get to that conclusion. And artist is too vast a field. If we’re gonna go down that path then we’d have to include dancers, actresses, sculptors, magicians, jugglers. . the list goes on and on. So far, he’s kidnapped and killed two painters, and that’s all we have to go on. The fact that Katia’s profession falls into the vast category of being an artist is a simple coincidence at this point.’ Hunter tapped the picture on the table. ‘When did she go missing?’

‘Four days ago. Laura went missing about a week after Kelly, right?’

‘You’re good with names and dates.’

‘Yes, I’m very good with names and dates. So we have no specific time signature between kidnapping and murder?’

‘We?’

Myers glared at Hunter. ‘Katia Kudrov is still my private case. At the moment she’s a missing person, not a homicide victim. I spent most of today checking Katia’s background against Kelly’s.’ She placed a folder on the table. ‘Other than being the same age and sharing some physical characteristics, they’ve got