but what good would that have done? His wife was with him – he was in good hands. He would be back there first thing in the morning.
The dizziness had subsided but not enough to allow him to drive home just yet. Maybe what he needed was a strong cup of coffee.
He allowed the door to close slowly behind him and stared at an empty office. His gaze fell on the photo- covered board. Nine victims staring back at him. Nine victims that he couldn’t help and he’d been a button push away from making it eleven.
Memories of the old laundry room came back and all of a sudden the room felt cold. The realization of how close to death he and Garcia had been made him shiver. A dry knot formed in his throat.
Slowly he prepared a pot of coffee just the way Garcia had taught him, triggering a new barrage of memories.
Why Carlos? Why go for a cop? Why go for his partner and not him? And no carving, no trademark double- crucifix on the back of the neck. Why? Maybe Garcia wasn’t really supposed to die or maybe there was no point in marking the victim if the explosion would’ve disintegrated the room anyway. Hunter was sure this killer had an agenda set from the beginning and maybe the captain was right, the killer had achieved whatever he’d set out to achieve and Hunter was the last piece of the puzzle.
He poured himself a large coffee and sat back at his desk maybe for the last time. The new patients’ list that he’d acquired from the hospital only that morning was still sitting on his desk. On any other day he’d fire up his computer and start looking for a match against the police database, but today wasn’t any other day, he’d been defeated. The killer had won. No matter what happened from here on, even if the two new detectives managed to catch the killer, Robert Hunter had lost. The killer had been too good for him.
He touched his lower lip and felt it pulsating against the tips of his fingers. He leaned back and rested his head on the back of his chair closing his eyes. He needed some rest but he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to sleep. Maybe tonight was the night to get hammered drunk, he thought, that would definitely help the pain.
He massaged his temples wondering what to do next. He needed some fresh air, he needed to get out of the office. Maybe going back into the RHD building hadn’t been such a great idea after all – not tonight.
His thoughts were disrupted by his mobile ringtone.
‘Detective Hunter speaking,’ he said unenthusiastically.
‘Hunter, it’s Steven.’
Hunter had forgotten about the tail they’d placed on D-King. Steven was one of the three-man team that had D-King under twenty-four-hour surveillance.
‘Oh God, Steven!’ Hunter said, closing his eyes. ‘I forgot to call off the team. You can drop the surveillance. It was a cold lead.’
‘Thanks for telling me now,’ Steven replied a little irritated.
‘Sorry, man, but it’s been a fairly eventful day, haven’t had a lot of time to do much.’
‘So you don’t wanna know about what’s happening tonight?’
‘What’s happening tonight?’ Hunter asked with renewed interest.
‘I’m not sure, but whatever it is, is something big.’
Sixty-One
Hunter followed Steven’s directions and met him outside the disused factory in Gardena.
‘Jesus! What the hell happened to you?’ Steven asked as he caught sight of Hunter’s battered face.
‘Long story. What have we got here?’
Steven handed Hunter a pair of binoculars. ‘Down there, towards the back of the building.’
Hunter looked in the direction Steven had indicated.
‘It’s too dark. What the hell am I supposed to be looking at?’
‘Close to the north wall. Right over there,’ Steven said, pointing at the main building again.
‘Wait . . . Is that a van?’ Hunter asked, a little more excited now.
‘That’s D-King’s van. He and four of his men parked down there about half an hour ago and went into an underground entrance further towards the rear of the building. They were carrying a small arsenal with them.’
Hunter’s interest grew. ‘What’s this all about?’
‘I don’t know, but we split the surveillance team in two. One team kept an eye on D-King and the other tailed his right-hand man, the giant muscle guy.’
‘Yeah, and?’
‘Well, in the past few days something’s happened. They’ve been going crazy searching for something or someone. Whatever it is that they’ve been after, I think this is it.’
Hunter had another quick look at the rear of the main building. D-King doesn’t know the first victim isn’t Jenny, he thought. He’s been after the killer and he might’ve found something, some sort of lead. ‘Where’s the rest of the surveillance team?’
‘I pulled them. You said we didn’t need to keep an eye on your drug-dealer friend anymore. I’m just showing you this because I thought it could be of some interest. I’m out of here myself.’
‘Before you go, where exactly did they go?’
‘See that little trail at the back of the main building?’ He pointed down to the factory once again. ‘Follow it. That’s where they went, but you’re crazy if you’re thinking about going down there alone. Where the hell is your new partner?’
Hunter hesitated for a few seconds. ‘He’s coming,’ he said in a not very convincing tone.
‘Do you want me to call for back-up?’
‘No. We’ll be OK.’ Hunter knew Captain Bolter would throw a fit if he called for back-up after their conversation earlier.
‘Suit yourself.’
Hunter watched as Steven jumped back into his unmarked vehicle and drove off.
‘What the fuck am I doing?’ he said out loud while checking his weapon. ‘Haven’t you had enough action for one day, Robert?’ He retrieved a small flashlight from his glovebox and started down towards the little path Steven had indicated.
Sixty-Two
Hunter made his way down the dirt track at the back of the old factory, until he came to an iron door concealed by some overgrown vegetation. Behind the door, he found stone steps leading to an underground area. He waited a few seconds listening for any sounds.
Silence.
Cautiously he started down the dark tunnel.
A heavy moldy, damp smell made him gag. He hoped nobody heard him cough.
‘What the hell, Robert?’ he whispered. ‘Another old building, another dark basement . . .’
The tunnel at the bottom of the stairs was narrow, lined in concrete and filled with debris. As he moved deeper underground, voices started to materialize – several voices – angry voices. The foul smell now mixed with some sort of raw sewage. Rats meandered everywhere.
‘I fucking hate rats,’ Hunter murmured through clenched teeth.
