by Chris Carter
‘What makes you think that I don’t have the diary with me right now?’ Hunter asked.
‘Because I’m not stupid, Detective.’ The caller had no desire or need to explain himself. ‘I’ll give you until seventeen hundred hours tomorrow to have the diary with you. Keep your phone by your side.’
Hunter’s eyebrow arched, but before he had a chance to say anything back, the line went dead.
Out of habit more than hope, Hunter immediately placed a call to the LAPD’s Technical Investigation Division and asked them if they had a location for the last call made to his cellphone. It took them less than thirty seconds to come back with the answer that Hunter was expecting.
‘Sorry, Detective, the caller has used a pre-paid phone with either no GPS chip, or a disabled one.’
For the next minute or so, Hunter sat completely still at the driver’s seat of his Buick, his brain going back over every word the caller had said to him.
‘Everything OK?’ Jordan asked, as he exited the house and approached Hunter’s car, his right hand hidden behind his back.
Hunter knew how good the LAPD SIS really was. They had, no doubt, already installed surveillance cameras at the front and back of the house. They would’ve seen and heard Hunter’s car approaching way before Hunter had had a chance to park on the driveway.
Hunter opened his door and stepped out of the car, his concerned gaze searching up and down their dead-end road, as doubts began clouding his thoughts.
Yes, Hunter had followed counter-tailing protocol from the moment they’d left Angela’s apartment. In fact, he had used a combination of counter-tailing techniques, stretching a forty-five-minute ride into a two-hour trip. Throughout the drive, he’d checked his mirrors every minute or so. If someone had been tailing them, especially for such a long ride, he would’ve spotted it. He always did.
Instinct and experience told Hunter that he had nothing to fear, but the timing of the call, together with the fact that the caller had sounded so calm and collected, planted a seed of doubt in Hunter’s mind. What if he had made a mistake? What if the killer had been watching Angela’s apartment building all day long, just waiting for the LAPD to turn up, because he knew that they would turn up? If that had been the case . . . if the killer had witnessed Hunter and Angela as they left for the safe house . . . what was there to stop him from tailing them?
Hunter’s counter-tailing measures – that was what.
‘Detective,’ Jordan asked again. ‘Is everything OK?’ Instinctively, the SIS agent followed Hunter’s worried gaze as the LAPD detective checked the entrance to their street. ‘Do you think that you might’ve been followed? Do you think that this safe house might’ve been compromised?’
Still with his gaze firm at the top of the street, Hunter slowly shook his head.
‘No,’ he said decisively.
‘The threat to the woman in there,’ Jordan asked. ‘Are we talking about a single individual here, or an organization?’
Hunter knew why the question was asked. A great number of protection details that the LAPD SIS was assigned to tended to involve witnesses relating to organized crime.
‘All the evidence we’ve gathered so far points to a single individual,’ Hunter replied.
Jordan had never met Hunter until that night, but he had certainly heard of the success rate and reputation of the Ultra Violent Crimes Unit. Detective Hunter wasn’t a man known for making many mistakes.
‘It’s your call, Detective,’ Jordan said after a long instant. ‘Your decision, but if you have any doubts that this location is still safe, then you need to call it in and we’ll need to take the witness to a brand new safe house. You know we can’t risk it.’
Mentally, Hunter tried his best to revisit the entire journey from Angela’s apartment to the safe house. Not only did he believe that he had not been followed, but not once throughout the entire trip had he even felt worried. Not once did he clock a suspect vehicle behind them. Not once did he see the same vehicle twice. Of that he was absolutely sure.
‘No,’ he said with even more conviction than before. ‘The safe house hasn’t been compromised. We stay.’
Thirty-Nine
Angela was still lying on her bed, vacantly staring at the ceiling, when Hunter paused at her bedroom door.
‘Are you hungry yet?’ he asked, leaning against the doorframe.
‘No, not really, but I could do with a cigarette and a beer.’
Her attention finally hopped from the ceiling down to Hunter. He was holding a ten-pack carton of cigarettes in his right hand and a can of beer in his left.
‘I suspected that you’d be going for these first.’
Angela swung her feet off the bed to come to a sitting position by its edge. ‘Can I smoke in here?’
‘I’m afraid not, but there’s a small backyard.’ Hunter’s head tilted to his left. ‘Through the kitchen. It’s completely secluded by a wall of tall trees. No one can look in, or out.’
Angela walked over to Hunter, who handed her the cigarettes and the can of beer. ‘I can go outside then?’
‘Sure, as long as you don’t do it unaccompanied.’
‘Right.’ Angela took out a cigarette pack before throwing the rest of the carton onto the bed. ‘Do I need a babysitter to go pee as well?’
‘Angela.’ Hunter halted her as she tried to go past him. He had never been one to lecture people, but he needed Angela to remain calm and focused. ‘I understand your annoyance and that you’re now facing a lack of privacy that you simply aren’t used to, but you need to check your attitude.’
The strict tone of Hunter’s words took Angela by surprise. She took a step back and glared at him.
‘Like I said earlier – I understand this is difficult but you need to remember that we’re here to protect you. This icy-cold attitude of yours is understandable,’ he continued. ‘It’s your coping mechanism trying to cover for how scared or angry you are, but do you know what? It’s OK to be scared. It’s OK to be angry. No one here is going to judge you. We’re all here to help you. Please understand that.’
The glare disappeared from Angela’s eyes, giving way to some internal turmoil.
‘I’m sorry,’ she finally said after a long pause. Her voice was a little unsteady, but genuine. ‘I do know that you – all of you – are here to protect me from my own stupid mistake.’ She matched eyes with Hunter once again. Hers were glassy with tears. ‘You’re right. The attitude is my own way of hiding how scared I am . . . how angry I am with myself.’ Her voice croaked in her throat. ‘Since what happened with my brother, to keep myself from falling into an abyss, this is the only way my brain has figured out how to deal with fear and pain and anger.’ She looked away again. ‘The truth is – I’m scared all the time. I’m in pain all the time. Inside me there’s nothing but sadness, pain and loneliness.’
Angela’s tears finally broke through her defenses and began streaming down her cheeks.
Hunter didn’t say anything to try to comfort her. He understood that sometimes the best comfort, the best release, was to allow the fear and the anger inside to pour out. Instead of words, Hunter offered her a tissue.
What Angela didn’t know – what she would never know – was that, for different reasons, Hunter felt exactly the same inside.
‘Damn,’ Angela said as she dabbed the tissue against her cheeks. ‘I could really do with that cigarette right about now.’
Hunter walked with her.
Outside in the backyard, they sat at the edge of the wood decking that led from the kitchen door to a small grassy area. Angela lit up a cigarette and breathed in its smoke as if it would save her life. As she exhaled through her nose, she offered Hunter one. He declined. She cracked open the can of beer and took a healthy sip.
‘I should’ve asked for vodka,’ she said, an honest smile parting her lips.
Hunter smiled with her.
‘Here,’ she said, offering him the can. ‘Have some.’
‘I’m OK, thank you,’ Hunter declined again.
‘C’mon,’ Angela insisted. ‘I know that you’re on duty, but a single sip won’t get you drunk, plus, it’s horrible drinking alone.’
‘That’s very true,’ Hunter agreed, looking up at a starry sky. He said nothing else.
‘Really?’ Angela asked. ‘Not even a sip?’
Hunter remained silent.
‘Fine . . . more for me.’
Hunter could see that her coping mechanism was clearly starting to kick back in again. She had another mouthful of beer and took another long drag of her cigarette. Hunter watched the smoke dance into the night breeze for a moment.
‘There’s something I need to ask you,’ he said, the killer’s phone call still playing in his head.
‘Sure.’
‘When you were on the phone to the person who you took the diary from—’ Hunter began.
‘You mean – the killer who is after me?’ Angela interrupted him.
‘Yes,’ Hunter agreed. ‘When you were on the phone to him, you said that when he asked about his diary, you told him that you had handed it to the police.’
‘That’s right,’ Angela confirmed.
‘Can you remember if you mentioned anything about dropping that package into Dr. Slater’s mailbox? Did you mention the doctor’s name at all?’
Angela had another couple more sips of her beer and another drag of her cigarette. ‘No, I don’t think so.’
Hunter waited an extra second. ‘You don’t think so, or you know so?’
Her eyes narrowed at him.
‘Angela, this is very important.’
As she finished her cigarette, Angela remembered the words on her shower wall – the direct threat the killer had made to Hunter and Garcia. She could feel her core starting to shudder again. ‘Do you think that he might go after her?’
Hunter had no reason to lie.
‘If you have mentioned her name to him,’ he said, ‘then I’m sure he will try. The fact that he’s now dealing directly with the LAPD doesn’t seem to bother him at all. In fact, he seems excited by it. That’s why I really need you to think back to exactly what you said to him over the phone. I really need to know if you mentioned her name, or anything about the FSD Criminalistics Lab. Anything at all that could give him a hint that Dr. Slater has seen his diary. Can you recall the conversation in full?’
‘I’ve already told you the whole conversation.’
‘I know, but maybe now that you’re a little less nervous than before,’ Hunter insisted, ‘you may be able to recall something that you might’ve forgotten the first time around.’
Angela lit up another cigarette.
In her head she went over the entire conversation, from the moment she received the killer’s call, as she exited the cab, until when he put the phone down on her. She could remember every word.
Hunter waited.
‘No,’ she finally said, with a firm shake of the head. ‘I never said anything about the doctor or the lab. I told him that I had sent the diary to the police. That was when he told me that I would pay for what I’d done.’ Her voice was beginning to falter again.
‘It’s OK, Angela.’ Hunter placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. ‘You did great.’
An airplane crossed the dark sky above their heads and Angela stared at its blinking lights for a moment.
‘Do you mind if I ask you something a little more personal?’ Hunter asked, bringing her attention back to him.
‘I don’t mind you asking,’ Angela replied. ‘You can ask whatever you like. I’m not the boss of you.’
‘But you won’t answer it,’ Hunter picked up on what Angela was suggesting.
‘I didn’t say that,’ Angela came back. ‘I might answer it, or I might not, that will depend on how personal your question is. So please, ask away.’
Hunter smiled at the woman sitting next to him. The fact that Angela seemed to be constantly on the defensive reminded him of himself when he was younger.
‘You’re clearly a very bright and skillful woman,’ Hunter began. ‘You’re self-assured, you’re strong-minded, you don’t seem to take shit from anyone—’
‘Enough with the flattery,’ Angela cut him short. ‘What is it that you want to know?’
‘How did someone with all those qualities get into something as low-level as pickpocketing?’ Hunter finally asked.
Angela studied Hunter, as if she was deciding if she would answer him or not.
‘My very first day in LA, actually,’ she replied after several silent seconds. ‘I was walking the streets completely lost, both physically and mentally. I turned a corner, and as I was walking past a bus stop, I saw this guy lift a woman’s wallet from inside her handbag. He was smooth – very – but I saw it, so I couldn’t believe that no one else did.’ Angela had another long drag of her cigarette. ‘I was desperate. I had no money, no place to stay and I was hungry. I also didn’t think that I had anything to lose, so I went up to him as he walked away from the bus stop and told him that it had been a nice lift, but if he didn’t split the cash from the purse with me, I would tell the cops. There was a cop car parked just across the street.’
‘So he split the money with you,’ Hunter assumed.
‘Nope. First he was shocked. He couldn’t believe that he was being hustled by a seventeen-year-old girl from Pocatello, Idaho, but then he smiled and said, “I can do something much better than give you half of the money . . . I can teach you how to do it yourself, so you can keep everything you lift”.’ Angela shrugged. ‘And that was that.’ She paused and once again studied Hunter, as if deciding whether or not she should reveal any more. ‘We ended up becoming a couple.’ Angela looked away as she said those words.
‘Obviously, it didn’t work out,’ Hunter said.
‘It did for about a year.’ Angela’s gaze returned to Hunter. He looked like he was expecting her to go on, but Angela said nothing else.
‘So what happened?’ Hunter pushed.
‘You’re a nosey fucker, aren’t you?’
Hunter accepted with an apologetic tilt of the head. ‘I’m sorry. You’re right. It’s none of my business.’
Angela laughed, as she put out her cigarette. ‘You need to learn how to chill, man. I was just joking. I don’t care. I’m a nosey fucker myself.’ She sipped her beer. ‘Like so many couples,’ she explained, ‘things started to fizzle out after the honeymoon phase. He wanted to upgrade and I didn’t.’
‘Upgrade from pickpocketing, you mean?’
‘Yep. That’s when I said – “not for me”. This is just a temporary gig. I’m not going to be a pickpocket all my life.’ Angela’s tone sounded as if she really wanted to explain herself to Hunter.
‘Temporary?’ Hunter questioned. ‘How long is temporary, because you’ve been doing this since you got to LA?’
‘Don’t you start on me with that bullshit.’ She pointed a finger at Hunter. ‘How easy do you think it is to get a job in this city when you’ve run away from home, you’re depressed, you’re hurting, you’re in pieces inside, you have no experience of anything except school, you have no home address, and you’re broke?’
Hunter shook his head. ‘Still—’
‘No,’ Angela cut him short again. ‘There’s no “still”. I needed to eat, and sleep, and clothe myself, and everything else. I know it isn’t right. I know I was brought up better than this, but I am not putting people out of business. I’m not destroying people’s lives. I’m not taking away their life savings. Do I look like I’m rich to you?’ She didn’t give Hunter a chance to reply. ‘I just take enough to get by, and that’s all. Like I said, I will give this up sooner rather than later, so don’t you “still” me.’
Hunter saw no point in pushing for an argument. ‘So what happened to the guy?’ he asked. ‘The one you dated. The one who taught you to pick people’s pockets? Did he upgrade?’
Angela chuckled. ‘Yeah, we went our separate ways and he did upgra
de. A year and a half later, he got busted. He’s now at LAC.’
LAC was the acronym used for the California State Prison, Los Angeles County.
Hunter thought about asking if she visited him or not, but quickly gave up on the idea. Instead, it was Angela who surprised him with her next question, especially after her mini-outburst.
‘Would you please stay?’
He looked back at her, intrigued.
‘I know that those two in there are here to protect me,’ Angela explained. ‘I know that you’ve said they are the best at what they do, but I’d feel a lot more at ease if you were around. I don’t really know why, but I know that I’ll feel safer if you’re here.’
Hunter regarded Angela for an instant. Nothing about her expression or body language gave him the impression that she was joking.
‘Please,’ she asked again, her voice soft. ‘Just for tonight.’
Hunter staying the night hadn’t been on the cards, but since his phone conversation with the killer – since the seed of doubt that that particular phone call had planted in his mind – he had already decided that, at least for tonight, he would join Martin and Jordan as part of Angela’s protection detail.
‘Sure,’ Hunter nodded. ‘I can stay in the living room.’
‘Thank you. I really appreciate it.’
Forty
Thursday, December 10th
That night, unlike the previous one, Hunter’s insomnia well and truly delivered. Sleep came to him in random waves that didn’t last nearly long enough, crashing too quickly against a rough shore of nightmares and doubts. To Hunter, the ‘stop-start’ was by far the most debilitating type of insomnia there was, because instead of keeping him awake, it would allow him to fall into a temporary deep sleep, tricking not only his brain but his entire body into the illusion that he could relax. Once sleep-numbness was achieved, insomnia would savagely jolt him awake again, only to allow him to fall back asleep several minutes later. That torturous process repeated itself throughout the entire night. Falling asleep was never a problem. Staying asleep was but, broken or not, Hunter still managed to get around three hours of sleep, give or take. Certainly not ideal by most people’s standards, but in the greater scheme of things, for a person who faced chronic sleeplessness on an almost daily basis, three hours was definitely not that bad going.