She moved closer and kissed his lips softly. ‘I’m glad you decided to stay.’
Hunter smiled and watched as she struggled to keep her eyes open, her head resting against his bare chest. Hunter hadn’t spent two consecutive nights with the same woman in a very long time. He had no time for romance, no interest in sharing his life with anyone at the moment. And he preferred it that way.
He carefully moved her head back to her pillow and skillfully eased himself out of bed leaving her undisturbed. In the kitchen he found the jar of instant coffee she’d bought especially for him and a smile danced on his lips. Hunter made himself a strong cup before walking into the living room and dumping himself on the comfortable sofa, his mind rummaging through both interviews from the day before. Once again it looked like they’d established some sort of link between two of the victims. Jenny and George knew each other, he was sure of it. Sex parties, he thought. Did the killings have a sexual meaning behind them? Was the killer after promiscuous people? Still more questions than answers, but Hunter could feel they were inching closer. For the first time he felt excited about this case. For the first time they had something to go on – a face – maybe.
He had another sip of his strong coffee and wondered how many cups he’d need to get through the day. He checked his watch – 6:00 a.m., time to get ready.
He slowly opened the door to Isabella’s room to check on her. She looked peaceful. She was still asleep when he left.
Forty-One
Getting to the RHD before eight in the morning was something Hunter rarely did, but the developments of the past two days had injected new life into him and the investigation. Today he felt as eager as he did on his first day as a detective.
‘Do you ever go home or have you moved into the office?’ he asked, surprised to find Garcia already sitting at his desk.
‘The captain wants to see you straight away,’ Garcia replied, paying no attention to his partner’s comment.
Hunter glanced at his watch. ‘It’s seven-thirty in the morning, are you serious?’
‘I know. He called up here around seven. I’d just got in.’
‘You got here at seven? Do you guys ever sleep?’ Hunter asked, taking his jacket off. ‘Did he say what it was about?’
‘Not to me.’
‘Did we not hand in a report yesterday?’
‘I did. A little later than ten in the morning as he’d requested, but he got it.’
Hunter could smell freshly made Brazilian coffee and that was exactly what he needed before facing the captain.
The detectives’ floor was almost deserted except for Detective Maurice who was standing by a window. Pieces of paper were scattered all over his desk and on the floor. He looked like he hadn’t gone home in days. Hunter said hi with a simple nod but Maurice didn’t even seem to notice his presence. Hunter reached the captain’s office and knocked twice.
‘Come in!’ the captain shouted from inside.
Even though it was still early, the room felt hot. There was no air conditioning, none of the windows were open and the two pedestal fans in the room were switched off. The captain was sitting behind his desk reading a copy of the morning paper.
‘You’re in early,’ Hunter commented.
‘I’m always in early,’ the captain said, lifting his eyes to greet Hunter.
‘So you wanted to see me?’
‘Yep.’ Captain Bolter opened his top drawer and retrieved a copy of the facial sketch Patricia had drawn. ‘Come take a look at these.’ He pointed to his computer screen. Hunter maneuvered past the two large armchairs and positioned himself to the captain’s right. On the screen he could see several permutations of the sketch – long hair, cropped hair, beard, mustache, glasses – twenty different drawings in all.
‘We’ve tried every combination we could think of and these have been sent to every station in LA. If this guy is still around, we’ll pick him up sooner or later.’
‘Oh he’s still around, I’m very sure of it,’ Hunter said with undeniable conviction. ‘We’ll be checking the bars and clubs as well, starting tonight with the ones in Santa Monica. If we’re lucky maybe someone has seen him recently.’
‘That’s good . . .’
Hunter noticed the captain’s uneasiness. ‘That’s good but there’s something bothering you.’
Captain Bolter walked over to his coffee machine. ‘Coffee?’
Hunter shook his head. Only once he’d been naive enough to taste the captain’s coffee and he swore never to do it again. He watched as the captain poured himself a cup and dropped four sugars in it.
‘The woman that gave you this . . . are you involved with her? Are you involved with a potential witness?’
‘Wait a second, Captain. Don’t even go there,’ Hunter replied, immediately going into defensive mode. ‘We got together a couple of times, but I met her before I even knew she’d had an encounter with a possible suspect. She’s just someone I met in a bar and . . . she’s not a potential witness. She hasn’t witnessed anything.’
‘You know what I mean. Getting involved with anyone that, in one way or another, is part of an ongoing investigation is at the best of times risky, not to mention against protocol and dumb.’
‘We slept together, Captain. That doesn’t really qualify as being involved. Especially in LA. And she ain’t part of this investigation. She’s not a witness and she’s not a suspect, she’s a lucky break, and to tell you the truth it was about fucking time we got one.’
‘Have you gone stupid all of a sudden?’ The captain’s voice firm and dry. ‘You know how serial killers work. More to the point you know how this one works. He profiles people just as much as we’re trying to profile him. He studies his selected victims, sometimes for months because he knows if he picks the wrong person his game is over. If this is our guy, I know you don’t think he just happened to bump into your lady friend in a bar?’
That same thought had been playing in the back of Hunter’s mind ever since Isabella told him about the man she’d met at the Venice Whaler. Hunter knew this killer was very methodical, no mistakes, no slip-ups. He stalked his victims, studying their habits, their schedules, waiting for the best time to make his move.
‘Yes, Captain. I know there’s a possibility that that’s how the killer chooses his victims. He first approaches them with some sort of frivolous conversation just to size them up in a bar or a nightclub.’
‘And that doesn’t bother you?’
‘Everything about this case bothers me, Captain, but this particular incident gives me some hope.’
‘Hope? Have you gone mental?’ the captain enquired wide-eyed.
‘Their meeting was over two months ago, Captain, before he started killing again. As you remember the first killing happened just over a week ago. Maybe he did size Isabella up and he didn’t like her, she didn’t fit his victim’s profile, so he passed her up and looked for someone else.’
‘The faceless woman?’
Hunter nodded.
Captain Bolter had a sip of his coffee and immediately made a bitter face. ‘But why would that be? What made him not like her? She lives alone, doesn’t she?’
‘Yeah, she does.’
‘That makes her an easy target. What made him discard her?’ He walked back to the coffee machine and dropped two more sugars into his cup.
‘I’m not sure yet, but that’s one of the reasons I have to be close to her. I need to find out why she didn’t fit. Maybe she’s just too strong-willed. Isabella is not the kind of woman that would take crap from anyone. Maybe the
