something of Isabella left in her. ‘These guys have itchy trigger fingers. They won’t hesitate to shoot you. They won’t hesitate to shoot me to get to you.’ Hunter kept his voice as calm as possible. He understood stressful situations. He knew people had a tendency to match the anxiety of those around them. ‘Please don’t let it end like this. There are people who can help you, people that wanna help you. I understand the pain you’ve been through, but the pain doesn’t have to go on.’
‘You’ll never understand the pain,’ she whispered back.
‘I do understand it. You saw it, you said so yourself. After I lost my partner and my only cousin the pain almost ate me alive. I did hit rock bottom, but I didn’t stay there. Give us a chance to help you.’
‘You wanna help me?’ her voice just a little tender now.
‘Yes, let me help you. Please.’
‘Like you helped your partner today, Robert?’ Her Italian accent was back. Hunter sensed that the woman behind him wasn’t Brenda anymore.
‘Yes . . . like I helped Carlos.’ No hesitation in Hunter’s voice.
He felt the blade being pressed just a little harder against his neck and the skin starting to rupture.
‘Would you do the same for me, Robert?’ she whispered into his right ear. ‘Would you risk your life for mine?’
‘You have three seconds to drop the knife before we shoot you where you stand,’ the officer instructed again, this time with overwhelming irritation.
Hunter knew he didn’t have much time.
‘You’re not gonna answer me?’ she asked again.
A split second of silence followed.
‘Yes . . .’ he whispered back. ‘I’d risk my life for you.’
Hunter sensed a timid smile on her lips before she pulled the blade away from his neck. In a lightning movement she stood up and before the STU team had a chance to discharge their weapons she had plunged the knife deep into her own abdomen. The laser-sharp blade sliced through skin and muscle with incredible ease and surgical precision. Hunter felt a gush of warm liquid strike him in the back of the neck.
‘No!’ he croaked.
‘Jesus Christ!’ the STU leader shouted, lowering his weapon. ‘Get the paramedics up here . . . now,’ he ordered. They all rushed towards Hunter and Brenda who was now on the floor. The pool of blood that surrounded her body was increasing with incredible speed.
As fast as he could, the STU leader used his own knife to cut Hunter free who immediately fell to his knees, his body shivering.
‘Are you OK, sir?’ the officer asked.
Hunter didn’t respond. His eyes were fixed on Brenda’s limp body. An STU agent was now holding her head in his hands. Hunter could sense the life draining out of her. The look on the agent’s face told him what he already knew.
Seventy
Four days later.
Hunter slowly opened the door to Garcia’s room and peeked inside. Anna was standing next to his bed, her hand gently stroking his arm.
‘Is he awake?’ he whispered.
‘Yes, I’m up,’ Garcia replied with a frail voice, turning his head to face the door.
Hunter gave him a wide smile and stepped into the room. A box of chocolates under his right arm.
‘You’re bringing me presents?’ Garcia asked with a worried look.
‘Hell no . . . this is for Anna,’ he replied, handing the chocolates to her.
‘Oh! Thank you very much,’ she said accepting the gift and giving Hunter a peck on the cheek.
‘What’s going on here?’ Garcia asked. ‘Chocolates . . . kisses . . . next thing you know you’ll be coming over to my house for dinner.’
‘He will be,’ Anna confirmed. ‘I’ve already invited him. As soon as you’re back home.’ She smiled a sweet smile that seemed to light up the room.
‘How’re you feeling, partner?’ Hunter asked.
Garcia lowered his eyes to his bandaged hands. ‘Well, apart from the unwanted holes through the palms of my hands, the deep scratches on my head and feeling like I’ve been dropped from the top of the Golden Gate Bridge I feel peachy, how’re you doing?’
‘Probably as good as you,’ he replied without much conviction.
Garcia shifted his stare towards Anna who understood the signal.
‘I’ll leave you two alone for a moment. I wanna go down to the cafeteria anyway,’ she said, bending down and giving Garcia a soft kiss on the lips. ‘I’ve got some chocolates to attend to,’ she teased him.
‘Save me some,’ Garcia said, giving her a quick wink.
After she left, Garcia was the first to speak.
‘I’ve heard you caught her.’
‘I’ve heard you don’t remember much,’ Hunter replied.
Garcia slowly shook his head. ‘I have no recollection of anything concrete. Little flashes of memory, but I wouldn’t be able to identify the killer if it came to that.’
Hunter nodded and Garcia noticed a hint of sadness in his eyes. ‘I figured it out, but I didn’t catch her,’ he said, taking a step closer to the bed.
‘How did you do it?’
‘Joe Bowman . . .’
Garcia frowned, trying to remember the name. ‘The gym manager? Steroid man?’
Hunter nodded. ‘I knew I’d seen him before, but he’d convinced me that it’d been in some fitness magazine. It didn’t really click until D-King mentioned something about being the jury, the judge and the executioner.’
‘D-King?’ Garcia said with surprise. ‘The drug dealer?’
‘Long story, I’ll tell you later, but that’s what revived my memory about John Spencer’s case. Joe was one of the jurors. He looked pretty different then. No steroids, a lot smaller, but I knew it was him.’
Garcia’s facial expression urged Hunter to carry on.
‘From that, I found out all the victims were linked to the jurors, some of them family, some of them lovers or affairs, just like Victoria Baker was. She was Joe Bowman’s lover remember, he’s married.’
Garcia agreed in silence. ‘And George Slater?’
‘He had a gay lover. Rafael, one of the jurors. We talked to him yesterday.’
‘Does his wife know?’
‘I don’t think so. I don’t think she needs to know. It would only sadden her further.’
‘I agree. And we were right about him having a lover.’
Hunter nodded. ‘My problem was figuring out the killer. It was obvious that this had all been about John Spencer’s case, about revenge, but who?’
‘Family,’ Garcia said.
‘There’s no love stronger than family love,’ Hunter agreed. ‘But a further check revealed that the only family he had left was his sister . . . his adopted sister.’
‘Adopted?’
Another nod. ‘Brenda was adopted at the late age of nine. Not because she was an orphan, but because she’d been taken away from her overly abusive biological family by the Department of Health and Human Services. John’s family took her in and gave her the love she never had. She felt protected, she felt secure with them. They
