One by One (Роберт Хантер 5 Поодиночке) - Carter Chris (2) - Страница 39

The captain’s gaze went from Garcia, to Hunter, to the pictures board and then back to Garcia. ‘I can’t believe I’m about to ask this question.’ She shook her head. ‘In the film, how does this girl’s mother murder these three people?’

‘I haven’t watched it yet,’ Garcia answered. ‘That’s what I wanted to do before you guys got here.’ He nodded at his computer screen.

Captain Blake took a step back and scratched her forehead with her manicured pale pink nails. ‘Oh, give me a fucking break. Do either of you two really believe that any of this—’ she indicated the pictures board ‘—has anything to do with a supernatural horror film about exorcisms?’

‘I didn’t know a movie with that title existed until Carlos mentioned it just now,’ Hunter said. ‘But now that we know, we might as well check it out.’ He shrugged, while tilting his head to one side. ‘Murderers replicating crimes that have appeared in films or books, true or fictional, is nothing new, Captain. You know that.’

She did know that. Only two years ago the RHD was involved in a case where a twenty-one-year-old kid murdered four people in as many weeks. When he was finally apprehended, it transpired that he was obsessed with an obscure crime novel published a few years earlier. He identified with the killer’s character so much that he actually believed he and the fictional serial killer were the same person. He followed the crimes in the novel exactly as they’d been described.

‘Maybe it’s just a coincidence that there’s a movie with those exact same words for a title, Captain,’ Hunter continued. ‘As you’ve just said, the killer could be speaking figuratively, referring to the devil inside him . . . or her . . . or something else.’

‘And that would mean what?’ the captain shot back.

‘Depends,’ Hunter said. ‘If those words are a reference to the devil inside himself, then he could be talking about something he can’t control. An overwhelming desire to kill. A monster inside. Maybe dormant most of the time, but when he awakes—’ Hunter indicated the pictures board ‘—that’s the result.’

Captain Blake’s thoughtful and frustrated look intensified.

‘In a different light,’ Hunter moved on. ‘The killer could be talking about the devil inside us all, referring to how pathetic he considers other people’s lives to be.’ Hunter pointed to a picture on the board. ‘Kevin Lee Parker led a normal and unambitious life. He liked his job at the videogames shop, and he was very content with his family life. He didn’t want or need any more than that. The killer might have seen his lack of ambition as a waste of life, and that pissed him off. Christina Stevenson’s life, on the other hand, was completely dedicated to her job. A job that was highly dependent on gossip and rumor. A job that intruded on other people’s lives, with very little regard for anything else. To many, a despicable job. Maybe the killer thinks he’s ridding the world of mundanity, a kill at a time.’

‘And then there’s also the obvious more religious connotation,’ Garcia said, taking over.

The captain faced him.

‘The killer might believe that his victims are possessed by demons or something, and he’s saving their souls by killing them. The torture targets the evil being inside, not the person.’

Captain Blake might’ve wanted to laugh, but she knew from first-hand experience that people’s insanity was no joke, and it had no limits. As absurd as they might sound, any of those theories could be true. No one, maybe not even the killer, knew what was going on inside his head.

‘Or it could be none of the above,’ Garcia continued. ‘As Robert said before, this killer might be so detached from everything that those words—’ he guided the captain’s attention back to the fluorescent orange powder photograph ‘—could be just him killing time, while he waited for his victim to come home.’

‘Is there any connection between the two victims?’ Captain Blake asked.

‘We’re checking,’ Garcia replied.

The silence that followed was ruptured by the ringing of Hunter’s phone.

‘Detective Hunter, Homicide Special,’ Hunter answered it.

‘Detective, it’s Michelle Kelly at the FBI Cybercrime Division. I reanalyzed the footage we had from the broadcast on Friday. And I think there’s something you need to see.’

Fifty-One

This time Garcia drove, but during the short trip to the FBI building in Wilshire Boulevard, neither detective said a word. It had been ten days since they’d been catapulted into this investigation, and in those ten days this case had had so many twists it was starting to look like a bowl of spaghetti. And both detectives could sense there was more to come.

At the FBI building’s reception desk, they went through the same security checks as the first time, before being escorted down to the Cybercrime Division by the same black-suited FBI agent.

‘Dude, we’re inside an elevator going underground,’ Garcia said to the agent. ‘You can take those shades off.’

The agent didn’t move. Didn’t reply.

Garcia smiled. ‘I’m only messing with you. I know you have to keep those on at all times so no one knows what your eyes are focusing on, right?’

Still nothing from the agent.

‘Ah, screw it,’ Garcia said, reaching into his pocket for his sunglasses and putting them on. ‘It’s a good look. I think we should all wear them, regardless.’

Hunter stifled a smile.

The elevator doors opened again. Harry Mills was waiting for them by the glass double doors at the end of the hallway.

‘Nice talking to you,’ Garcia said to the agent, who kept an expressionless face as he turned and walked away.

Harry guided both detectives into the uncomfortably chilled Cybercrime Division quarters.

Michelle was sitting at her desk with a phone wedged between her right shoulder and ear, while her fingers danced frantically over her keyboard. She looked at Hunter and Garcia and bobbed her eyebrows up and down once in a silent ‘hello’. Five seconds later she was done with the call.

‘Wow,’ Garcia said, staring at her still-swollen bottom lip. ‘You either picked a fight with the wrong guy or that Botox thing isn’t working well for you.’

Harry smiled.

‘Funny man,’ Michelle said.

Garcia shrugged. ‘I do OK.’

‘I actually picked a fight with the right guy, who will now be in prison for a very long time. Have a seat.’ Michelle indicated the two empty chairs by her desk.

Hunter and Garcia took them.

Michelle was wearing a skintight black top with synchronized small rips down both sides. At the front of the top, in pink letters, were the words ‘Rock Bitch’. The low-cut top also revealed a wall of colored tattoos on her chest.

‘Last night I finally got some time to go over the footage of both murders,’ she explained. ‘I had no idea what I was looking for or what I was hoping to find. I was trying things out. One of the things I tried was a color and contrast saturation trick, together with slowing the images down.’ She paused and typed something on her keyboard. The familiar images of Christina Stevenson lying inside the glass coffin loaded onto the left monitor on her desk. ‘And I came across something I didn’t expect to be there. I don’t think anyone did. Not even the killer.’

Both Hunter and Garcia kept their attention on Michelle for a while longer before simultaneously allowing their eyes to shift toward the monitor.

Hunter had also watched both footages several times. He too had slowed them down, but he hadn’t picked up anything new.

‘Let me show you,’ Michelle said, pulling her chair closer to her desk.

She first forwarded the footage to a late stage – 16.15 minutes out of the total 17:03 – and paused it. Christina Stevenson’s torso was completely covered by tarantula hawks. She’d already been stung hundreds of times.