Myers nodded and her eyes became glassy. ‘They were his guardians. They were supposed to protect him. Instead, they were raping his soul.’ She finished her whiskey in one gulp. ‘Right there and then I promised him that if he came with me, if he got off that ledge, his uncle would never hurt him again. He didn’t believe me. He asked me to cross my heart and hope to die. So I did.’ A heartfelt pause. ‘That was all that was needed. He said he believed me then because I was a police officer, and police officers weren’t supposed to lie, they were supposed to help people. Billy got up and turned towards me. I offered him my hand and he extended his tiny little arm to take it. That’s when he slipped.’
‘So he never jumped as the report said?’
Myers shook her head.
Neither of them spoke for a few moments.
The waitress returned to the table and frowned as she saw Hunter’s uneaten platter. ‘Something wrong with the food?’
‘What?’ Hunter shook his head. ‘Oh no, no. It’s fantastic. I haven’t finished it yet. Just give me a few more minutes.’
‘I’ll have one more of these.’ Myers pointed to her empty glass. ‘Balvenie, 12-year-old.’
The waitress nodded and went on her way.
‘I lunged towards him,’ Myers continued. ‘My fingers brushed his tiny hand. But I just couldn’t grip it. He was so fragile that his body almost disintegrated when he hit the ground.’
Hunter ran his hand through his hair.
‘It took me two days to build up the courage to go back to Billy’s building.’ She paused to find her words. ‘Actually, I think what built up inside me wasn’t courage — it was pure hate. I didn’t want a confession. I wanted to teach them a lesson. I wanted them to feel at least a fraction of the fear Billy felt.’ Her voice was suddenly coated with anger. ‘He was a 10-year-old boy, so hurt and so scared that he’d rather jump off the top of a building than go back to the family that was supposed to love him. You’re a psychologist. You know that 10-year-old boys aren’t supposed to commit suicide. They shouldn’t even understand the concept.’
The waitress returned with Myers’ drink and placed it on the table.
‘I got to their apartment and confronted them. Angela started crying, but Peter was as cold as ice. He couldn’t have cared less. Something took over me right there and then. So I forced them to cuff themselves to each other, and took them to the rooftop. To the same spot Billy had fallen from. And that’s when it happened.’
Hunter leaned forward but said nothing, allowing Myers to continue at her own pace.
‘Angela started crying uncontrollably, but not because she was scared. The guilt inside her just exploded and she let everything out. She said that she was so ashamed of herself, but she had been terrified of what Peter would do to her and Billy if she told anyone. Peter also used to rape and beat her up too. She said that she thought about taking Billy and running away, but she had nowhere to go. She had no money, no friends and her family didn’t care for her. That’s when Peter lost it up there. He told her to shut the fuck up and slapped her across the face. I almost shot him for that.’
Myers paused for another sip.
‘But Angela beat me to it. The slap didn’t faze her. She said she was tired of being afraid. She was tired of being helpless against him, but not any more. She looked at me and her eyes burned with determination. She said, “Thank you for finally giving me the chance to do something. I’m so sorry about Billy.” Then, without any warning, she threw herself off the rooftop. Still cuffed to Peter.’
Hunter was studying Myers, searching for signs of dissembling — rapid facial movements, fluttering of the eyes. She displayed only a sorrowful calm.
‘Angela was a heavy-built woman. Peter was tall and skinny. He wasn’t expecting it. Her weight pulled at him like a crane, but he managed to hold her for a few seconds. Long enough for his frightened eyes to look at me. Long enough for him to ask for my help.’ A pause. ‘I just turned and walked away.’
They sat in silence for a while as Hunter digested the story.
‘So what do you have to say? Do you think I’m lying?’ Myers finally asked.
That was why Myers had never recounted those events to anyone investigating her case years ago. Hunter knew no Internal Affairs investigator would have believed her. On the contrary, they’d crucify her for seeking revenge.
‘As I said,’ Hunter said, ‘I would’ve done the same thing.’
Sixty-Seven
Hunter and Myers talked for over an hour more. They shared information. She told him how the evidence she’d collected suggested that Katia Kudrov had been taken from inside her apartment in West Hollywood. She told him about the sixty messages on Katia’s answer machine, and how they were all exactly twelve seconds long. She told him about the sound analyses on the last message, the deciphering of the hoarse whispering voice — ‘YOU TAKE MY BREATH AWAY. . WELCOME HOME, KATIA. I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR YOU. I GUESS IT’S FINALLY TIME WE MET.’ — and why they believed the kidnapper had made the last call from inside her bedroom, probably while watching her shower.
Myers handed Hunter a copy of all the recordings, including the deciphered last one, together with several files. Her research was as good as she had said it was.
Hunter kept his side of the bargain, but he told Myers only what she really needed to know. He told her about the stitches to the victims’ mouths, but not to their lower bodies. He never mentioned that the killer left any devices inside his victims. He also didn’t say anything about the bomb, the spray-painted messages. He said the killer had used a knife and simply left it at that.
Hunter finally finished his shrimp platter before leaving Uncle Kelome’s. His headache wasn’t gone, but it was now bearable. Hunter contacted Operations and asked them to get started straight away on a file on Katia Kudrov.
Back in his apartment, he sat in his living room, nursing a new glass of single malt. He didn’t even bother with the lights. Darkness suited him just fine. His brain kept going over everything Myers had told him. There was no concrete evidence that the same person who’d taken Laura Mitchell and Kelly Jensen had also abducted Katia Kudrov, but Hunter’s mind had already started finding links in the method of their disappearance.
Katia had been abducted from inside her own apartment. That was consistent with the way in which Laura Mitchell, the first victim, had been kidnapped. Despite his suspicions, Hunter had yet to find out from where Kelly Jensen had been taken.
The phone messages left on Katia Kudrov’s answering machine also bothered him. The fact that they were all twelve seconds long was evidence enough that they’d been left by the same person. One message a day, over sixty days. That again implied that they were dealing with someone patient and self-disciplined. A person who didn’t mind waiting. It was almost like a game he played with his victims. But why twelve seconds? It wouldn’t have been a random choice, he was sure.
Hunter played through the copy of the recordings Myers had given him. He heard the kidnapper’s hoarse whisper, first as a mass of static sound, then as the deciphered voice. He rewound it and played it again. Over and over.
Hunter sat back in his beaten-up black leather sofa and rested his head against the backrest. He needed to watch the CCTV footage from Kelly’s studio parking lot, but he was exhausted. His eyelids were starting to feel heavy. And when sleep came Hunter’s way, he always grabbed it with both hands.
He fell asleep right there in his living room. Five consecutive and dreamless hours, something that very rarely happened. When he woke up, he had a stiff neck, and the taste in his mouth was as if he had eaten from a garbage can, but he felt rested and his headache was mercifully gone. He had a long shower, allowing the warmth and strong jet of water to massage his neck muscles. He shaved with an old razorblade that seemed to rip the hairs from his face instead of cutting them. He cursed. He had to go the grocery store sometime soon.
After making himself a strong cup of black coffee, Hunter returned to his living room and to the laptop he’d brought home with him.
