The Crucifix Killer

by Chris Carter

  ‘Why didn’t you call me? Why didn’t you call for back-up?’

  ‘Because the killer had said no back-up. I wasn’t about to gamble with Carlos’s life.’

  ‘It doesn’t make sense. If you’d beaten him at his own game, why set the detonator again?’

  Hunter shook his head, staring at the floor.

  ‘He wanted you both dead. No matter what,’ Captain Bolter concluded.

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘If he didn’t want you killed, why reset the bomb?’

  ‘Evidence.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘That room was full of evidence, Captain. The tape recorder, the cage, the explosives, the door-lock mechanism, the wheelchair. If we were to get our hands on all of that, something was bound to give us a lead. Blow it all to hell and we’ve got nothing.’

  The captain made a face as if he wasn’t very convinced.

  ‘The cross came off its base as if it had been greased,’ Hunter continued. ‘It was too easy. The amount of explosives the killer used was exactly enough to destroy only the laundry room. We were just about two feet from the door. The killer could’ve arranged for a stronger explosion, one that would’ve obliterated the entire basement floor giving us no chance of escaping. The primary objective of the explosion wasn’t to kill.’

  ‘So the killer has knowledge of explosives?’

  ‘At least some,’ Hunter said nodding.

  ‘What do you mean “At least some”?’

  ‘I don’t believe the bomb was anything spectacular. Definitely not state of the art or terrorist style. Yes, the killer would need some knowledge of explosives to put it together and build the detonating mechanism, but he wouldn’t need to be an expert.’

  ‘And where the fuck would he get explosives from?’

  ‘This is America, Captain,’ Hunter answered with a sarcastic chuckle. ‘The land where money buys you anything you want. With the right contacts and cash you could get an antiaircraft gun never mind a small amount of explosives to blow up a basement room. If the killer has enough understanding of chemistry he could’ve built it himself using easy-to-purchase chemicals.’

  The captain shook his head in silence for a few seconds. ‘We’re gonna have to come clean about this case you know that, right? The press is all over this now. Explosives, a detective being crucified alive. It’s a goddamn circus out there, and we’re the clowns.’

  Hunter had nothing to say. The room had almost stopped spinning and he tried standing up once again. As his feet touched the floor Hunter let out an agonizing grunt. His new shoes had done a good job of rubbing his feet raw.

  ‘Where the hell do you think you’re going?’ the captain asked.

  ‘I gotta go see Carlos – where is he?’

  The captain ran his hand over his mustache and regarded Hunter with a sharp gaze. ‘I told you, in the ICU. C’mon, I’ll show you.’

  As he walked past the small mirror to the left of the room door, Hunter stopped and peered critically at his outline. He looked like death. Hundreds of small cuts covered his tired and pale face. His eyes were bloodshot. His lower lip was swollen and disfigured. A blob of dried blood decorated the right corner of his mouth. He’d aged ten years in one afternoon.

  ‘You must be Anna,’ Hunter said as he entered the L-shaped ICU room.

  A short dark-haired woman was sitting next to Garcia’s bed. Her complexion heavy, her hazel eyes swollen from crying.

  ‘And you must be Robert.’ She sounded weak and shattered.

  Hunter attempted to give her a smile, but his cheeks gave way. ‘I’m sorry we’re meeting this way.’ He extended a shivering hand.

  She shook his hand with the most gentle of touches, her eyes filling up with tears. In silence all three of them stared at an unconscious Garcia. He lay flat under a thin coverlet. Tubes came out of his mouth, nose and arms looping away through the bed frame and connecting to two separate machines. His hands and head were heavily bandaged and his face bruised and cut. A heart monitor beeped steadily at the corner of the room and at the sight of it Hunter shuddered.

  Garcia looked peaceful but fragile. Hunter stepped closer and placed a soft hand on his right arm.

  ‘C’mon, rookie, you can fight this, this is easy,’ he whispered tenderly. ‘The difficult part is over. We got out of there, rookie. We beat him. We beat him at his own game . . . you and I.’

  Hunter kept his hand on Garcia’s arm for a while longer before turning to face Anna. ‘He’s very strong, he’s gonna come out of this easy. He’s probably just sleeping it off.’

  Anna had no reply. Tears rolled down her face. Hunter returned his attention to Garcia and bent over to draw level with him. He seemed to be searching for something.

  ‘Is something wrong?’ the captain asked.

  Hunter shook his head and pressed down on Garcia’s pillow around neck height being careful not to disturb his head. Very gently he ran his finger around the back of his partner’s neck.

  ‘C’mon, he needs the rest and so do you,’ the captain said, moving towards the door. Hunter wanted to say something to Anna, but words simply evaded him. He merely followed the captain and no one said a word until they were back in Hunter’s room.

  ‘He had no mark,’ Hunter spoke first.

  ‘What?’

  ‘On the back of Carlos’s neck . . . no carving. The killer didn’t mark him.’

  ‘And what does that mean?’

  ‘It means he wasn’t supposed to die.’

  ‘He wasn’t supposed to die? But you could’ve pressed the wrong button.’

  Hunter had no answer. He tried to think but the thumping inside his head prevented him. He sat down on the bed as the room started spinning again.

  ‘You’re gonna have to brief Matt and Doyle on the case,’ the captain said, breaking the silence.

  ‘What? What are you talking about?’

  ‘I have to pull you off the investigation, Robert, you know the protocol. Matt and Doyle will take over. I want you to share everything you know, everything you have with them.’

  ‘Fuck protocol, Captain! That’s bullshit . . .’

  ‘You know I can’t let you carry on with this case. For some freaky reason this killer has gotten attached to you. Phone calls. Calling you by your first name. Killing games. Next thing you know you’re gonna be having drinks with him. It’s like he knows you too well now.’

  ‘Exactly, and if you pull me from the case it might enrage him further. Hell knows what he’ll do then.’

  ‘Hell knows what he does now, Robert. We have nothing on him and you know it. Three years of investigation and we have jack-shit to show for it. Maybe two fresh brains is what this investigation needs.’

  ‘What this investigation needs is for me to carry on from where I’ve left off. We are edging closer, Captain. Carlos and I were on the trail of something that we’re sure is gonna lead us to him.’

  ‘Good, so you can fill Matt and Doyle in on this trail of yours.’

  ‘This is my investigation, mine and Carlos’s.’

  ‘Are you concussed? Has the explosion affected your brain? Let me give you a quick reality check,’ the captain shot back aggressively. ‘Carlos is lying in intensive care in a half coma. He was crucified alive, Robert. A barbed-wire crown shoved so hard into his head that the thorns were scratching his cranium. Two six-inch nails driven through the palms of his hands. It’ll be some time before he’s able to hold a pen, never mind a gun. You are a psychologist, so you can probably guess what sort of traumas he’ll have to overcome to be able to get back to the job, if he gets back to the job. It was his first case.’

  ‘You think I don’t know that, Captain?’

  ‘At the moment you have no partner. I don’t have anyone else to assign to you and even if I did . . . I wouldn’t, not now.’

  Hunter pointed a finger at Captain Bolter. ‘You said, just a few days ago that you wouldn’t make the same mistake you made with John Spencer’s cas
e. You said you should’ve listened to me when I told everyone that he didn’t kill his wife. You said that you should’ve allowed me to carry on with the investigation . . .’

  ‘This isn’t John Spencer’s case, Robert,’ the captain cut him short. ‘We don’t have an innocent man in custody. We have no one in custody and that’s the problem. All we have are bodies. And they keep on fucking piling up.’

  ‘You’re making another mistake, Captain. Don’t pull me from this case.’

  Captain Bolter took a deep breath. His stare finding refuge on the floor.

  ‘What the hell’s going on, Captain?’

  ‘Look, Robert. You know I trust your instincts. And I wish I’d trusted them more in the past. You’ve got some sort of sixth sense when it comes to that, but it’s out of my hands now.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I’m having my ass chewed by everyone above me, from the Mayor to the Chief of Police. They want answers and I don’t have any. They are controlling this game now, I don’t have much of a say anymore. It’s gotten out of hand. They are talking about bringing the FBI into this. I’ll be lucky if I manage to keep my job.’

  Hunter rubbed his face with both hands. ‘Taking me off the case is a mistake.’

  ‘Well, it won’t be the first mistake we made in this investigation, will it?’

  The door opened and the petite, dark-haired nurse entered the room once again. ‘Gentlemen, this is a hospital, not a Lakers’ game. Maybe I should sedate you again,’ she turned to Hunter.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Hunter said, jumping to his feet. ‘Where the hell are my clothes?’

  ‘You’re supposed to stay here for at least twenty-four hours under observation,’ the nurse said, stepping closer to him.

  ‘Well, that just ain’t gonna happen, honey, so back off, and show me where my clothes are.’

  She looked at Captain Bolter hoping for some support which wasn’t forthcoming. Hesitantly she pointed to the small wardrobe to the right of the door. ‘In there.’

  ‘We’ll keep it down,’ the captain said, gesturing to the door. He waited until the irritated nurse had left.

  ‘Take some time off, Robert.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You need a break. I want you to take some time off after you’ve briefed Matt and Doyle.’

  ‘Are you suspending me?’

  ‘No, I’m just telling you to take some time off.’

  ‘You need me on this investigation, Captain.’

  ‘I need you to brief the two new detectives on the case and then for you to take a vacation. It’s not a request, Robert. Take a break, get yourself fit and forget about this case. You did everything you could. When you get back we can talk about what to do next.’ Captain Bolter paused at the door. ‘If I were you I’d listen to the nurse. Maybe it is a good idea to stay here overnight.’

  ‘Is that another order?’ Hunter said, giving the captain a sarcastic military salute.

  ‘No, just a suggestion, but I’m worried.’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘You. The killer came after Carlos, you could be next.’

  ‘If the killer wanted me dead, I’d be dead already.’

  ‘Maybe he wants you dead now, which could be the reason for the explosives in the room. The killer could be through with playing games and now he wants you.’

  ‘Let him come then,’ Hunter said defiantly.

  ‘Oh yeah. You’re the man, not scared of dying, real tough guy.’

  Hunter eye’s avoided the captain’s.

  ‘You’re not a superhero, Robert. What would you do if the killer decided to come after you tonight? Pull something out of your super Hunter belt?’

  ‘Why would he do that?’

  ‘To finish the job he started.’

  Hunter had no reply. He stared down at his bare, blistered feet.

  ‘Look, Robert, I know you’re fit. God knows my money would be on you on a hand to hand combat against just about anybody, but right now you’re not one hundred percent . . . physically and mentally. If the killer comes after you in the next few days he’d have too much of an advantage.’

  Hunter had to admit the captain had a point. An uncomfortable chill came over him.

  ‘Think, Robert, don’t be a fool, you’re not superhuman. Spend the night in here where someone can keep an eye on you.’

  ‘I don’t need a babysitter, Captain,’ he said, walking over to the window.

  Captain Bolter knew how pointless it was to try and reason with Robert Hunter. He’d tried it many times before.

  Hunter stared out at a busy hospital car park. ‘My car, what happened to my car?’

  ‘It’s been towed back to the RHD. If you want, I can bring it over tomorrow,’ he tried one last time.

  Hunter turned and faced the captain. ‘I ain’t staying here overnight, Captain. I’ll pick it up on my way home,’ he said, his voice firm.

  ‘Suit yourself, I’m through arguing with you. Take tomorrow and the day after off, then I need you to bring Matt and Doyle up to speed.’ He let the door slam behind him as he left the room.

  Sixty

  Hunter stepped out of the cab and looked up at the RHD building. His whole body ached. He needed a rest, but he knew there was no way he could’ve spent the night in that hospital room.

  A guilty feeling started to torment him. He should’ve stayed with Garcia, he should’ve stayed with his partner, but what good would that have done? His wife was with him – he was in good hands. He would be back there first thing in the morning.

  The dizziness had subsided but not enough to allow him to drive home just yet. Maybe what he needed was a strong cup of coffee.

  He allowed the door to close slowly behind him and stared at an empty office. His gaze fell on the photo-covered board. Nine victims staring back at him. Nine victims that he couldn’t help and he’d been a button push away from making it eleven.

  Memories of the old laundry room came back and all of a sudden the room felt cold. The realization of how close to death he and Garcia had been made him shiver. A dry knot formed in his throat.

  Slowly he prepared a pot of coffee just the way Garcia had taught him, triggering a new barrage of memories.

  Why Carlos? Why go for a cop? Why go for his partner and not him? And no carving, no trademark double-crucifix on the back of the neck. Why? Maybe Garcia wasn’t really supposed to die or maybe there was no point in marking the victim if the explosion would’ve disintegrated the room anyway. Hunter was sure this killer had an agenda set from the beginning and maybe the captain was right, the killer had achieved whatever he’d set out to achieve and Hunter was the last piece of the puzzle.

  He poured himself a large coffee and sat back at his desk maybe for the last time. The new patients’ list that he’d acquired from the hospital only that morning was still sitting on his desk. On any other day he’d fire up his computer and start looking for a match against the police database, but today wasn’t any other day, he’d been defeated. The killer had won. No matter what happened from here on, even if the two new detectives managed to catch the killer, Robert Hunter had lost. The killer had been too good for him.

  He touched his lower lip and felt it pulsating against the tips of his fingers. He leaned back and rested his head on the back of his chair closing his eyes. He needed some rest but he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to sleep. Maybe tonight was the night to get hammered drunk, he thought, that would definitely help the pain.

  He massaged his temples wondering what to do next. He needed some fresh air, he needed to get out of the office. Maybe going back into the RHD building hadn’t been such a great idea after all – not tonight.

  His thoughts were disrupted by his mobile ringtone.

  ‘Detective Hunter speaking,’ he said unenthusiastically.

  ‘Hunter, it’s Steven.’

  Hunter had forgotten about the tail they’d placed on D-King. Steven was one of the three-man team that had D-King unde
r twenty-four-hour surveillance.

  ‘Oh God, Steven!’ Hunter said, closing his eyes. ‘I forgot to call off the team. You can drop the surveillance. It was a cold lead.’

  ‘Thanks for telling me now,’ Steven replied a little irritated.

  ‘Sorry, man, but it’s been a fairly eventful day, haven’t had a lot of time to do much.’

  ‘So you don’t wanna know about what’s happening tonight?’

  ‘What’s happening tonight?’ Hunter asked with renewed interest.

  ‘I’m not sure, but whatever it is, is something big.’

  Sixty-One

  Hunter followed Steven’s directions and met him outside the disused factory in Gardena.

  ‘Jesus! What the hell happened to you?’ Steven asked as he caught sight of Hunter’s battered face.

  ‘Long story. What have we got here?’

  Steven handed Hunter a pair of binoculars. ‘Down there, towards the back of the building.’

  Hunter looked in the direction Steven had indicated.

  ‘It’s too dark. What the hell am I supposed to be looking at?’

  ‘Close to the north wall. Right over there,’ Steven said, pointing at the main building again.

  ‘Wait . . . Is that a van?’ Hunter asked, a little more excited now.

  ‘That’s D-King’s van. He and four of his men parked down there about half an hour ago and went into an underground entrance further towards the rear of the building. They were carrying a small arsenal with them.’

  Hunter’s interest grew. ‘What’s this all about?’

  ‘I don’t know, but we split the surveillance team in two. One team kept an eye on D-King and the other tailed his right-hand man, the giant muscle guy.’

  ‘Yeah, and?’

  ‘Well, in the past few days something’s happened. They’ve been going crazy searching for something or someone. Whatever it is that they’ve been after, I think this is it.’

  Hunter had another quick look at the rear of the main building. D-King doesn’t know the first victim isn’t Jenny, he thought. He’s been after the killer and he might’ve found something, some sort of lead. ‘Where’s the rest of the surveillance team?’