physical evidence found at crime scenes or collected from suspects and victims. It’s located on the top floor of the RHD building. The LAPD composite artists are part of the SID team.
Patricia Phelps was the most senior and most experienced of the SID sketch artists. She was getting ready to go home after doing a couple of hours’ overtime when Hunter and Garcia burst through her office door.
‘Pat, we need your help,’ Hunter puffed, half out of breath.
The short-haired brunette with a stop-traffic figure looked at Hunter through the top of her thin-rimmed designer glasses. ‘Did you just run up six flights of stairs, Robert?’ she asked in her husky voice that made most men melt. ‘I guess if you ran all the way up here this can’t wait until tomorrow, can it?’
Hunter took a deep breath but didn’t reply.
‘I thought not. What do you need?’ She undid her coat.
Hunter handed Patricia the photograph. ‘I need you to alter this picture.’
She studied it for a second before shrugging. ‘OK. Let me scan it in.’ She returned to her desk and a minute later the image appeared on one of her computer screens.
‘How advanced is your software?’ Hunter asked.
Patricia chuckled proudly. ‘State of the art. As good as any animation studio in Hollywood. I can turn him into Brad Pitt if you like.’
Hunter smiled and motioned Garcia closer, who still looked puzzled. ‘OK, guys, now here’s the scenario. When you were young, everyone made fun of you, mainly because of the way you looked. It happened in school, on the streets . . . everywhere. Girls wouldn’t give you the time of day and boys pushed you around, called you names and beat you up. It went on for so long and it got so bad that you ended up hating yourself and the way you looked. You wished you could be somebody else. Are you with me so far?’
Garcia and Patricia both nodded.
‘What if you became rich early in your life? What if you had enough money to do anything you liked, including drastically changing the way you looked? You could finally become that someone else you always wanted to be? No more laughing or name-calling or being beat up. People you knew wouldn’t even recognize you. Would you go through with it? Would you change your face?’
Hundred and Twenty-Three
Garcia thought about it for a moment, his eyes on the face on Patricia Phelps’s screen. ‘Probably.’ He didn’t sound very sure.
‘Most definitely.’ Patricia nodded enthusiastically. ‘I’ve seen the kind of damage severe bullying can do to someone. The daughter of a friend of mine committed suicide a few years ago because of it.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Hunter said.
Patricia gave him a soft smile.
‘Alright, so if you’re this kid—’ Hunter pointed to the computer monitor ‘—what would you have changed?’
Garcia crossed his arms and chewed on his bottom lip while studying the young student’s face.
‘Those umbrella ears would have to go,’ Patricia said, leaning back on her chair. ‘He probably got some real heat for them. They’re quite – shall I say? – predominant?’
‘Yeah, OK. I’ll have to agree.’ Garcia nodded.
‘Can you change that?’ Hunter asked, resting a hand on Patricia’s left shoulder.
‘Watch me work.’ She entered a few algorithms into the software and used a device that looked like an electronic pen to draw on a flat board on her desk. Like a painter stroking a canvas, her movements were precise and graceful. Moments later the student’s ears were completely different.
‘Wow, that’s cool,’ Garcia said.
‘Yeah, that looks much better.’ Patricia smiled.
‘OK, so what else would you change?’ Hunter pushed.
‘Probably that bump on his nose,’ Garcia offered. ‘It looks as if it’s been broken.’
Patricia nodded and made the change.
‘Good. Any other problems either of you would like to fix?’ Hunter asked.
‘His teeth.’ Patricia this time.
‘You can’t see his teeth.’ Garcia shook his head, frowning at her.
‘That’s true, but see the way he closes his mouth?’ She used the electronic pen to indicate it on the screen. ‘He’s not doing it naturally. He’s forcing his lips together in a pouting movement, which tells me his teeth were bigger than normal and pushed forward.’
Hunter and Garcia squinted at the picture.
‘Trust me, guys. I work with this sort of stuff every day.’
‘OK.’ Hunter shrugged. ‘But how can you change his teeth on the picture if you can’t see them?’
‘I can change the shape of his mouth, push his lips back a fraction and do away with his pouting. You’ll see,’ she said as her perfectly manicured fingers punched several keys on her keyboard. A few more strokes with the magic pen and the kid had a new mouth.
‘Wow, he looks quite different from the original,’ Garcia agreed.
Hunter shook his head, unsure. ‘Something is not fitting.’
‘His jaw,’ Patricia noted. ‘Because of the alterations I made to his lips and teeth, I’m certain a surgeon would suggest a small redesign of his jawline to fit his new smile. Maybe square it a little.’
‘Can you do that?’
‘As I said, with this pen I can do anything.’ She smiled confidently and made the alterations. When she was done, they all took a step back from the monitor. The image they were staring at was that of a very different- looking boy from the one they’d started with.
‘That’s it,’ Patricia said. ‘I don’t see anything else to add or subtract, do you?’
Both detectives shook their heads.
‘We just turned a geek into a hunk.’ Patricia laughed.
‘That’s perfect,’ Hunter agreed.
Something had changed in Garcia’s expression, but the recognition still wasn’t there.
‘Do me a favor now, Pat.’ Hunter hunched his body over her desk. ‘Darken his hair to a brownish color, add some gray over his temples and make it a shorter, combed-back style, will you?’
They waited while Patricia tweaked the picture once again.
‘Can you hypothesize age?’ Hunter asked.
‘Of course.’
‘Great. Let’s age him about twenty-five years.’
The ageing process took a little longer. When it was finally done, Garcia’s jaw dropped open.
‘No fucking way.’
Hundred and Twenty-Four
Susan Zieliski read the letter for the tenth time, and again her emotions got the better of her. She couldn’t believe it was really happening.
Susan hadn’t had the easiest or luckiest of lives. She was born in Cripple Creek, Colorado, twenty-two years ago. Her parents were Polish–Jewish immigrants and very strict when it came to her upbringing. She did her best to respect their laws, but for a young girl growing up in today’s America they were very restrictive, to say the least.
From a very early age Susan had two great ambitions in life. One – she wanted to be on stage and sing. Two – she didn’t want to become like her mother, a very obedient, somewhat submissive wife who’d do anything her husband told her to without questioning.
