by Chris Carter
‘Did he follow a certain time interval between kills?’
‘Random again,’ Hunter said. ‘They go from a few days between the third and fourth victims to months, and on this last case, over a year.’
‘How about body locations?’ Garcia asked.
‘There’s a map over there; I’ll show you.’ Hunter unfolded a large map of Los Angeles with seven red dots the size of a dime scattered around it, a number next to each one.
‘These are the locations and sequence in which each body was found.’
Garcia took his time going over the marks. The first body had been found in Santa Clarita, the second one in downtown Los Angeles with the other five spread all over the map. Garcia admitted that at first glance they looked pretty random.
‘Again, we’ve tried everything, different sequences and patterns. We even brought in a mathematician and a cartographer. The problem is that when you look at random points on a piece of paper for long enough, it’s like looking at clouds in the sky, sooner or later you start seeing shapes and images, nothing real, nothing that could lead us anywhere, just your mind playing tricks on you. The only solid conclusion is that the bodies were found in and around Los Angeles. This is his burial ground.’ Hunter sat behind his desk while Garcia continued studying the map.
‘He’s gotta have a pattern, they all do.’
Hunter leaned back on his chair. ‘You’re right, they usually do, but as I’ve said, this guy is different. He’s never killed two victims in the same manner, he tries new things, different things – it’s like he’s experimenting.’ Hunter paused for a few seconds to rub his eyes. ‘Killing another human being isn’t an easy task, no matter how experienced someone is, ninety-five percent of the time the killer is more nervous than the victim. Some killers like to stick with the same MO simply because it’s worked before and they feel comfortable with it. Some move in a progression and the MO may change from crime to crime. Sometimes the offender may find that his particular course of action wasn’t very effective, wasn’t what he was looking for. Maybe too noisy, too messy, too hard to control or whatever. The killer then learns to adapt and tries new methods to see if they work better for him. Eventually he’ll find an MO that he’s comfortable with.’
‘And he’ll stick with it?’ Garcia commented.
‘Most of the time yes, but not necessarily,’ Hunter said, shaking his head.
Garcia looked puzzled.
‘Serial killers are usually after satisfaction . . . a sick kind of satisfaction, but satisfaction nonetheless. It could be sexual fulfillment, a sense of power, a God feeling, but that’s only half of the satisfaction.’
‘The kill itself?’ Garcia’s voice took on a grave tone.
‘Correct. It’s like taking drugs. When you first start, you only need a little hit to achieve the high you want, but soon, if you carry on, that little hit won’t be enough and you’ll go for more, you start chasing the high. In the case of a killer, the murders become more violent, the victims have to suffer more so the killer can get the satisfaction he needs, but again, just like drugs, there’s usually a steady progression.’
Garcia shifted his stare back to the photographs. ‘What’s the progression here? They all look just as violent, just as monstrous.’
Hunter’s agreement came with a nod.
‘It’s like he jumped straight into the deep end. Which leads us to believe that his progression of violence came earlier on in his life,’ Garcia concluded.
‘Correct again. You catch on quick, but you can read all that on the case files.’ Hunter tilted his head towards the two large piles of paper on his desk.
‘None of these were fast kills either.’ Garcia’s attention was back on the corkboard.
‘That’s right. This guy likes to take his time with his victims. He likes to watch them suffer, he wants to savor their pain. He’s getting his satisfaction. This killer doesn’t rush, he doesn’t panic and that’s his greatest advantage over us.’
‘When people panic, they make mistakes, they leave things behind,’ Garcia commented.
‘Exactly.’
‘But not our guy?’
‘Not so far.’
‘How about this symbol, what do we know about it?’ Garcia asked pointing to a picture of the carving on the neck of one of the victims.
‘Here comes confusion.’ Hunter’s lips tightened. ‘We brought in a symbologist when the first victim was found.’
‘And what did he have to say?’
‘The symbol seemed to be a return to the original design of the double-crucifix, also known as the double-cross or the cross of Lorraine.’
‘Original?’ Garcia shook his head.
‘The double-crucifix in its original version consisted of a vertical line crossed by two smaller horizontal bars evenly spaced and of the same length. The lower bar used to be as close to the bottom of the vertical line as the upper was to the top.’
‘Why do you say used to?’
‘Through the years, its design morphed. The lower bar became longer than the upper one, and both crossbars are now nearer the top of the vertical line.’
Garcia turned to analyze the photographs for a few seconds. ‘So this is the old version?’
Hunter nodded. ‘Its origin is thought to date back to pagan times. At least that’s where history believes it was first used. Back then it was also known as the double-edged sword.’
‘Yeah, history aside, what does it mean?’ Garcia made a hand gesture urging Hunter to move on.
‘Psychologically speaking, it’s believed to represent someone with a double life. The double-edged sword cuts both ways, right? That’s exactly it, duality, good and evil, white and black all in one. Someone who has two totally opposite sides.’
‘You mean someone that could be a normal law-abiding citizen during the day and a psychotic killer at night?’
‘Exactly. This person could be a community leader, a politician, even a priest doing good deeds today; tomorrow he could be slashing someone’s throat.’
‘But that’s the textbook definition of schizophrenia.’
‘No, it isn’t,’ Hunter corrected Garcia. ‘That’s a mistake most people make. Contrary to popular belief, people with schizophrenia do not have split personalities. Schizophrenics suffer from problems with their thought processes. These lead to hallucinations, delusions, disordered thinking, and unusual speech or behavior. They usually aren’t dangerous people either. What you’re thinking of is dissociative identity disorder, also known as DID. People with DID display multiple distinct identities or personalities.’
‘Thank you, professor Hunter,’ Garcia said, putting on a silly child’s voice.
‘But I don’t believe our killer suffers from DID.’
‘And why not?’ Garcia asked intrigued.
‘DID sufferers have no control of when one personality takes over the previous one. Our killer is fully aware of what he’s doing. It pleases him. He ain’t struggling with himself.’
That thought silenced Garcia for a few seconds. ‘How about a religious meaning? It looks like a religious symbol to me.’
‘Well, that’s where it gets even more complicated,’ Hunter replied massaging his closed eyes for an instant. ‘There are two main theories according to scholars. One is that the double-crucifix was the first-ever symbol of the anti-Christ.’
‘What? I thought that was supposed to be an inverted cross.’
‘That’s the symbol as we know it today. It’s believed the double-crucifix was first used by some of the early prophets when they prophesied about the end of time, when an evil being would come to end the world.’
Garcia shot Hunter an incredulous look. ‘Hold on, you ain’t gonna start talking about someone with 666 marked on his head and little horns, are you?’
‘It wouldn’t surprise me,’ Hunter said, shifting his eyes back to the photographs. ‘Anyway,’ he continued, ‘when they prophesied about such an evil being, they said he would brin
g with him the symbol of pure evil. A symbol that would mean God in reverse.’
Garcia’s eyes went back to the photographs before widening in surprise. ‘I’ll be damned. Two crosses touching each other,’ he said finally understanding it. ‘One right side up and the other upside down?’
‘Bingo. The symbol of Jesus opposed by the same symbol of Jesus. The anti-Christ.’
‘So we really could be dealing with a religious fanatic here?’
‘An anti-religious fanatic,’ Hunter corrected him.
A few silent seconds followed. ‘And what’s the second?’ Garcia asked.
‘Excuse me?’
‘You said there were two theories concerning religious meanings; what’s the second one?’
‘Get ready for this. The killer could believe he’s the Second Coming.’
‘What? Are you joking?’
‘I wish. Some scholars believe the early double-crucifix is not one cross right side up and another upside down, but one cross over another, meaning the second son of God. The Second Coming.’
‘But these are two totally opposite theories. One says he’s the anti-Christ and the other says he’s the second Christ.’
‘That’s true, but remember these are only theories based on what the double-crucifix symbol could mean according to history and academics. It doesn’t necessarily mean that they apply to our guy. For all we know, he could’ve just picked that symbol because he liked the look of it.’
‘Is the double-crucifix used by any religious groups or cults?’
‘The morphed design, with both crossbars closer to the top of the vertical line, has been used by several groups over the years, religious and not. It’s even part of the American Lung Association’s logo.’
‘And the old design. The one our killer uses?’
‘You’d have to go back over one hundred years to find anything. And nothing that could be relevant to the case.’
‘What’s your gut feeling on this?’
‘Gut feelings don’t matter in this case, as I’ve found out.’
‘C’mon, humor me. From what I’ve heard, you have a kick ass intuition,’ Garcia said.
‘The truth is that I’m not sure. This killer’s displayed some classic disturbed behavior like most serial killers. Some of the things he does are textbook perfect, too perfect, as if he wants us to believe he’s a typical serial killer.’ Hunter pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes for a few seconds. ‘Sometimes I think we are dealing with a religious freak, sometimes I think he’s some sort of a crime genius fucking with us, pulling the right strings to send us in the wrong direction. Playing a game where only he knows the rules, and he can change them any time he feels like it.’ Hunter took a deep breath and held it for a few seconds. ‘Whoever he is, he’s very intelligent, very clever, very methodical and as cold as ice. He never panics. But what we need to do now is concentrate on the new victim, maybe she’ll be the one that’ll lead us to him.’
Garcia nodded. ‘First we need to fax her photograph to as many model and acting agencies as we can. Having the victim’s identity would be a great start . . .’
‘Sure, we’ll do that, but there’s something I’d like for us to check first.’
‘And what’s that?’
‘Remember what Doctor Winston said about the victim?’
‘Which part?’
‘The gym rat part.’
Garcia raised his eyebrows. ‘Good thinking.’
‘The problem is, there’re over a thousand gyms scattered around this city.’
‘For real?’ Garcia asked surprised.
‘Yes, this is LA, the city where to get even a waiter’s job you need to look your best. Fitness is big business here.’
‘In a country where the obesity rate is off the charts?’
‘As I’ve said, this is LA, the city of the fit and beautiful.’ Hunter smiled as he flexed his bicep mockingly.
‘Yeah, in your dreams.’
‘We should check out some of the bigger, more famous gyms,’ Hunter paused for a moment. ‘The doctor said she liked to use expensive stuff right? So she obviously spent money on herself.’
‘And I bet that with a body like that she liked to be noticed,’ Garcia cut in.
‘I agree.’
‘So if you wanted to show off your body, which gym would you go to? Since you are the expert.’
‘Well, Gold’s Gym is our best bet, there are two branches in Hollywood where we’ll find a lot of famous and “in” people, and then there’s the Arnold Schwarzenegger famous Gold’s Gym in Venice Beach.’
‘I think we should check them out.’
‘Grab that computer image, we’re gonna go visit the big boys.’
As Hunter reached their office door his cell phone rang. ‘Yes, Detective Hunter speaking.’
‘Hello, Robert, did you miss me?’ the robotic voice asked.
Fifteen
Garcia was still walking towards the stairs when he realized Hunter wasn’t with him. He stopped and looked back. Hunter was standing in front of their new office holding his cell phone to his right ear. By the look on his face Garcia could tell something wasn’t right.
‘Robert, what’s wrong?’
Hunter didn’t reply. He instinctively shook his head – just a slight movement, but enough for Garcia to figure out what was happening.
‘Damn!’ Garcia said under his breath and quickly moved to Hunter’s side tilting his head towards the phone trying to listen in.
‘I trust you have seen my latest work?’
Hunter’s mind went blank, his heart speeding like a racing bike.
‘Aren’t you gonna answer me, Robert?’
It had been almost two years since Hunter had heard that robotic voice. ‘What was there to miss?’ he replied with a calm voice.
Laughter – ‘Well, maybe the thrill, the adventure. I give purpose to your job.’
‘To tell you the truth, I was hoping you were gone.’
Another laugh. ‘Oh, c’mon Robert! I know you didn’t really believe the guy you caught was me.’
Hunter stepped back into his office, Garcia still with him. ‘So he was just another one of your victims?’
‘I didn’t kill him.’
‘You framed him, which is basically the same thing.’
‘In truth I did you a favor. He was just another dirty sack o’ shit . . . a pedophile.’
Despite his hatred, Hunter knew that the longer he kept the killer talking, the more chances he had of forcing a mistake, a slip of the tongue.
‘So you decided to come out of retirement?’
The laughter was more enthusiastic this time. ‘I guess you could say that.’
‘Why now?’
‘Patience. All will be revealed in good time, Robert. Anyway, I’d love to chat for longer, but you know I can’t. I just wanted to make sure you knew the games have started again, but don’t worry, I’ll be calling you again soon enough.’
Before Hunter had a chance to say anything else the line went dead. ‘Shit!’
‘What did he say?’ Garcia asked before Hunter could return his phone to his pocket.
‘Not much.’
‘So there’s no doubt anymore, it’s him, it’s the Crucifix Killer.’
With frustration in his eyes Hunter could only manage a slight nod.
‘We’d better tell the captain.’
Hunter registered a certain excitement in Garcia’s voice. ‘I’ll call him from the car; we need to go check those gyms – you drive.’
Hunter’s conversation with Captain Bolter was quick. He told him about checking out a few gyms and about the killer’s phone call. The captain had cogitated the idea of placing a listening device in Hunter’s cell phone, but they’d tried it before with no luck. The caller had used a tracer scrambler device that bounced the call through twenty locations around the globe. For now, there was nothing anyone could do.
Their visit to the gyms in Hollywood came
up empty. Neither the reception nor the fitness staff had seen a woman that resembled the computer-generated portrait. They’d need a warrant and a lot of man hours to go through all the member files in the gym’s database, and that would still be a shot in the dark.
The Gold’s Gym branch in Venice Beach is arguably the most famous gym in the world. It shot to fame with the release of the film Pumping Iron, starring Arnold Schwarzenegger in 1977. From professional bodybuilders to movie stars and celebrities, Gold’s Gym in Venice Beach is the place to be if you want to show off your body, but their luck didn’t change. No one recognized the woman in the picture there either.
‘There’s no way we’re gonna go around LA checking all the gyms,’ Garcia said as they reached his car.
‘I know, this was a long shot anyway, but we had to try it,’ Hunter said rubbing his tired eyes. The previous sleepless night was starting to show its signs.
‘So what’s next, model and acting agencies?’
‘Not yet.’ Hunter was deep in thought for a moment. ‘Doctor Winston said he was confident our victim had money and she spent quite a lot of it on pampering herself remember?’
‘Yeah, so?’
‘If she was a struggling actress or model . . .’
‘One thing she wouldn’t have a lot of would be money,’ Garcia picked up where Hunter left off.
‘You’re getting good at this – ever thought about becoming a detective?’ Hunter said derisively.
Garcia lifted his right hand and showed Hunter his middle finger.
‘There’s someone else I’d like to visit.’
‘Who?’ Garcia asked intrigued.
‘If she was a struggling actress or model she’d still be able to make quite a lot of money by doing something else. You mentioned it before.’
Garcia frowned. After a few seconds he snapped his fingers and pointed at Hunter. ‘Hooker,’ he said triumphantly.
Hunter gave him an approving smile. ‘And I know just the guy we need to talk to.’