One by One (Роберт Хантер 5 Поодиночке) - Carter Chris (2) - Страница 15

Hunter took that opportunity to fire a question before Anita could fire hers again.

‘You said that the last time you saw Kevin was on Monday, is that right?’

Anita nodded. ‘In the morning. He ate breakfast and left for work, like every morning.’

‘And he didn’t come home that night?’

‘No. That was not so strange before, but since Lilia was born he no play late no more.’

‘Play late?’ Garcia asked.

Anita chuckled nervously. ‘Kevin is a big nino. He works in games shop because he love games. He always playing games like a child. Before Lilia was born, many nights he stay in shop after work, playing games on Internet until morning with work friends. But he always called me to say he be playing. But now that we have Lilia, he doesn’t play late no more. He’s a good father.’

Garcia nodded his understanding.

‘He didn’t call you on Monday night?’ Hunter asked.

‘No.’

‘Did you call him?’

‘Yes, but he no answer phone. Message said phone not ’vailable.’

‘What time was that, can you remember? What time did you call your husband?’

Anita didn’t have to think about it. ‘Not late. Around eight thirty. Kevin is never late home. He is usually back from work by eight o’clock.’

Hunter wrote that down.

‘Did you talk to any of his work colleagues from the shop? Was he at work on Monday?’

‘Yes. I call the shop Monday night. After I tried calling Kevin. No answer. Nobody there. I call the policia at eleven, but they didn’t care. A cop came by at around one in the morning, but he just said I had to wait. Maybe Kevin would be back home in the morning. Morning came and Kevin not home. Then I call shop again. Talk to Emilio. Emilio is a good friend. Old friend. He said Kevin worked on Monday, but no stay after work to play Internet games. He said they closed the shop at seven and Kevin left. I called police again, but they still didn’t care. They say Kevin was not a child. They had to wait one or two days before they could do anything.’

Hunter and Garcia knew that to be true. In America, any adult has the right to go missing if he or she wants to. Maybe they don’t want to see their wife or husband for a day or two. Maybe they just need a break from everything. It was their prerogative. California’s Missing Persons’ protocol dictated that they should wait between twenty-four and forty-eight hours before filing a missing persons’ complaint for anyone over the age of eighteen.

Hunter took some more notes. ‘Does Kevin drive to work?’

‘No, he takes bus.’

‘Did you, as a family, have any financial problems?’ Garcia asked.

‘Financial?’

‘Money problems,’ Garcia clarified.

Anita shook her head vigorously. ‘No. We pay everything on time. We don’t owe nobody no money.’

‘Did Kevin?’ Garcia pursued it. ‘Did he gamble?’ He noticed her confused look and clarified again before she could ask. ‘Bet . . . apuesta. Did he bet . . . on horses, or Internet poker or anything?’

The face Anita pulled was as if Garcia had bad-mouthed her entire family. ‘No. Kevin is a good man. A good father. He’s a good husband. We go to church every Sunday.’ She indicated the portrait of Jesus on the wall. ‘Kevin likes videogames, like boom, boom, boom, shoot monsters.’ She used her thumb and index finger to create an imaginary gun. ‘Shoot soldiers in war, you know? But he’s no betting chico. El no apuesta. Just like to play. We save all the money we can – for Lilia.’ She looked down at her daughter, who was still happily sucking on her dummy. ‘His heart is not so good, you know? He takes medicine. Doctor said he has to be careful. He is scared he won’t see Lilia grow up, so he saves for her future.’ Anita’s eyes started to fill with tears. ‘Something is wrong. I know it. Kevin always call. There was no bus accident. I checked. This neighborhood very dangerous. This city very dangerous. People think LA is all about Hollywood and big life, you know? It’s not.’ A tear ran down her cheek. ‘I’m scared. Kevin and Lilia is all I have. My family is in Puerto Rico. You have to find Kevin for me. You have to.’

Hunter’s heart sank for the second time, and he felt something tighten inside his chest because he knew there was nothing he could do. It was time to tell Anita the truth.

Nineteen

Hunter and Garcia sat in silence inside Garcia’s car for a long moment. Having to break the news to somebody as vulnerable as Anita that her husband had been taken by a psychopath, that his body had been almost dissolved in an alkali bath, and that baby Lilia would never see her father again had a way of rattling even the most experienced of detectives.

At first Anita just stared at them, as if not a single word they’d said had registered. Then she started laughing. Loud, hysterical laughs, as if she’d heard the world’s funniest joke. Tears streamed down her face, but the laughter carried on. Then she told them that they had to leave because her husband was due home at any minute. She had things to do before he got back. She wanted to prepare him his favorite meal, and then he would sit and play with his daughter like he did every night. Anita was shaking as if feverish when she closed the door on them.

Hunter left without saying another word. In his career he had seen the most diverse grief reactions: a mother who sincerely believed her son had been abducted by aliens rather than accept the fact that he’d been stabbed thirty-three times simply for walking down a neighborhood wearing the wrong colors; a new doctor, fresh out of med school, who lost all memory of his young wife rather than recall the night their house was broken into by four men, who tied him up and made him watch as they showed her absolutely no mercy. When reality becomes too senseless to make sense, the human mind will sometimes create its own.

Hunter would immediately request that a city psychologist got in touch with Anita. She would need all the help she could get.

Someone from the forensics office would also visit Anita in the next day or so. They would need a mouth swab, or a hair sample from her baby daughter. Hunter and Garcia were certain the victim was Kevin Lee Parker, but protocol required positive identification. With the body’s grotesque disfigurement, Anita would never be able to identify it down at the County Coroner’s. Positive identification would have to be made by DNA analyses.

‘Shit!’ Garcia said, resting his head against the steering wheel. ‘We’re looking for another I-don’t-care-who-the-fuck-I-kill murderer.’

Hunter just looked at him.

‘You just saw the victim’s house. There’s no wealth. You met his wife and daughter – simple everyday people. OK, we have to wait for whatever the research team can dig out on Kevin Lee Parker, but does any of what we know or have seen about his life so far strike you as anything other than ordinary?’

Hunter said nothing.

‘I’ll be surprised if the team finds even a parking ticket on him. He was just a young family man trying to get by, trying to build some sort of a future for his wife and daughter before his faulty heart gave up.’ Garcia shook his head. ‘I don’t think Kevin Lee Parker became a victim because of money, or debt, or drugs, or revenge, or anything. He was just picked at random out of the general public by a sadistic maniac. It could’ve been anyone, Robert. He was at the wrong place at the wrong time.’

‘You know we can’t be sure of that at this point, Carlos.’

‘Well, that’s my gut feeling, Robert. This isn’t about the victim. It’s about the killer showing off on a God power trip. Why build that torture chamber? Why call us and stream the execution live over the Internet for us to watch, as if it were a goddamn killing show? You said so yourself, the whole setup behind this is too bold, too complex – a phone call that bounces all around LA, not the world or even America, just LA, but an Internet transmission that seemed to have originated in Taiwan?’