‘Nope. Your everyday supermarket lard.’
‘That would’ve . . .’
‘Fried her face.’ The doctor completed Hunter’s sentence.
‘OK, but that wouldn’t have caused the melting effect.’ Hunter bent over to get a closer look at her disfigured face.
‘No, it wouldn’t.’
‘So?’ He stood back up as the stinging smell made his eyes water.
‘So we definitely need the lab to confirm it, but it looks like the killer could’ve used a combination of something like lard together with a rubber compound.’
‘Rubber?’ Garcia repeated, frowning.
A confident nod from the doctor. ‘Maybe even foam latex prosthetics. Just like they use in films. It’s actually quite clever. The rubber compound attaches itself to the skin like glue.’ The doctor ran the tips of his fingers down his face as if applying a moisturizing cream. ‘With the heat, it melts, running down the victim’s face, creating the desired candle wax clump effect. The skin just behind the rubber compound is covered in the accelerant, which would’ve drastically sped up the burning process, completely destroying the skin on her face, causing unimaginable pain. The final effect . . .’ He pointed to the body, ‘. . . the melted face.’ Doctor Winston took a step back and faced both detectives. ‘And that’s not all.’
Forty-Eight
Hunter braced himself.
‘I have indications that the injuries to her face were caused while she was still alive,’ Doctor Winston continued. ‘He tortured her by
Hunter frowned. ‘How?’
‘A guess – heat lamps. The victim was tied to an armchair, right? Now imagine the killer had one or even two heat lamps mounted onto a pedestal or a tripod or something, very close to and pointing directly at her face – old interrogation style.’
It suddenly seemed as if there wasn’t enough oxygen in the room.
‘The UVB rays together with the accelerant and the rubber compound used would’ve caused her face to fry and
Garcia coughed twice, trying to clear something from his throat. ‘So you’re saying the killer allowed her to suffer grotesque pain for many hours before finally turning on the fireplace and cooking her alive.’
The doctor used his thumb and index finger to rub his eyes and he nodded slowly. ‘That’s my theory anyway.’
Hunter circled the autopsy table.
‘What about her back, doc?’
‘Yes. She’s no stranger to fire.’ The doctor stepped away from the body, approached a metal cabinet by the west wall and retrieved a paper envelope from the top drawer. ‘Her body’s in a very fragile state and I don’t wanna keep on moving it. So let me show you on these pictures.’ He pulled four photographs out of the envelope and arranged them neatly over his desk. ‘She’s been severely burned before. As you can see, most of her back and neck are scarred.’ The doctor pointed to the first two photographs.
‘Any idea of how long ago?’
‘Very hard to be precise, but she was probably a young girl or a teenager.’
‘That long?’
Doctor Winston nodded. ‘The skin has stretched quite a bit since it’s healed. Meaning she’s grown. I’m certain those burn marks aren’t from her adult life.’
‘The number drawn on her back.’ Hunter pointed to the third picture. ‘Did the killer use blood again?’
‘Definitely. It’s already been sent to the lab, and I’ll have a result sometime today.’
Both detectives looked at all four photographs.
‘How long would you say she was exposed to the heat, doc?’ Hunter asked.
‘Probably from Saturday night all the way until when she was found. I heard the fire was still on when the police came into the house yesterday.’
Hunter bit his lip and nodded.
‘The killer didn’t stop cooking her after she died, Robert. This was more than torturing a victim. This was a demonstration of his resolve. He knew we’d find her. And he wanted us to find her looking like this. He’s showing off how evil and brutal he can be. I’m just not sure why.’
‘Maybe he isn’t showing off, doc,’ Hunter shook his head. ‘Maybe he only stops when the monster inside him is satisfied. That’s not uncommon. Sometimes death alone isn’t enough to soothe a killer’s rage or evil or whatever the hell it is that made him wanna kill. There’re cases upon cases of killers who carry on shooting, clubbing, stabbing, cutting their victims or whatever, way after they’re dead. Some even keep them for days, weeks, months . . .’
‘Maybe you’re right,’ Doctor Winston agreed. ‘Maybe just killing them isn’t enough for him.’ He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. ‘There’s something else I need to show you.’
The doctor’s tone made Hunter stare in his direction.
Pulling a round magnifying lamp mounted onto a pedestal towards the autopsy table, the doctor summoned Hunter and Garcia closer. He positioned the lamp sideways, its beam illuminating the right side of the victim’s abdomen. ‘Have a look.’ He moved out of the way.
Hunter stared through the magnifying lamp unsure of what he was looking for. A few seconds later his eyes narrowed as they locked their focus on something just under her right breast.
‘No way!’ he exclaimed, feeling a chill electrify his body.
Doctor Winston nodded calmly.
‘You’ve gotta be shitting me, doc.’
Forty-Nine
Two distinct groups of crime-scene photographs, separated by a white marker line, were now pinned onto the corkboard in Hunter and Garcia’s office. On the left, the Seven Saints Catholic Church and the brutality of a priest’s decapitation; on the right, the mansion in Malibu and the sadism of a body left to roast in front of an enormous fireplace.
With the discovery of a new body, Captain Blake had demanded a team meeting from now on, every day, at nine in the morning. Hunter and Garcia made it to the office with ten minutes to spare.
The forensics report from Amanda Reilly’s crime scene revealed that they’d found a partial print in one of the rooms upstairs. They’d also found a utilities room and a vacuum cleaner that’d apparently been used recently. The lab report would take a few days to come through.
The information they had so far on Amanda Reilly was basic. Born and raised in Los Angeles. Left high school before graduating and had been in the property business ever since. Her mother passed away seven years ago. Her father was never a strong presence in her life – alcohol and gambling problems. His location is unknown. Amanda was divorced. Ex-husband ran his own restaurant in San Diego. He’d been living there for six years. He was working all through the weekend. Alibi verified. She was also experiencing heavy financial difficulties. Her agency wasn’t doing well. The house in Malibu is owned by a stock market investor millionaire named Dan Tyler.
At 9:00 a.m. Captain Blake entered the room without knocking, carrying a copy of the
‘Have you seen this?’ she asked Hunter.
‘I tend not to read newspapers. They depress me.’
