by Chris Carter
‘You can’t blame the police for your brother’s suicide.’
‘I’m not blaming the police. I’m blaming you.’
‘We would’ve found the real killer eventually and your brother would’ve walked free.’
‘No, you wouldn’t have.’ Her voice was angry once again. ‘How would you have found the real killer if you weren’t looking? You’d given up on the investigation because the initial, superficial evidence pointed to John and that was good enough for you and your partner. No need to find the truth. One more successful conviction for the two star detectives. You got to be praised once again and that’s all that mattered. He was convicted of murder, Robert. He was given the death penalty for something he didn’t do. No one gave him the benefit of the doubt, no one including that pathetic excuse for a jury. My brother was classed as a monster. A jealous, murderous monster.’ She paused to take a deep breath. ‘And I lost my entire family because of you, your partner and that fucking, useless, waste-of-space jury. They couldn’t see the truth if it’d danced naked in front of them.’ Her eyes burned with rage.
Hunter gave her a puzzled look.
‘Twenty days after John committed suicide my mother passed away from heart sorrow. Do you know what that is?’
Hunter didn’t answer.
‘She didn’t eat, didn’t speak, didn’t move. She simply sat in her room staring out the window with John’s picture in her hands. Tears rolling down her face until she had none left to cry. The anguish and pain in her heart eating her away from the inside until she was too weak to fight back.’
Hunter kept silent, his eyes following her as she slowly paced around the room.
‘It didn’t end there.’ Brenda’s voice was now dark and somber. ‘Thirty-five years, Robert. My parents had been married for thirty-five years. After losing his son and his wife in such a short space of time, my father started to succumb to a never-ending sadness.’
Hunter already guessed the end to this story.
‘Twenty-two days after burying my mother. After the real killer was finally caught, his depression got the best of him and my father followed my brother’s way out. I was alone . . . again.’ The anger in her was almost palpable.
‘So you decided to take your revenge on the jury,’ Hunter said, his voice still weak.
‘You finally figured it out,’ she replied calmly. ‘It took you long enough. Maybe the great Robert Hunter isn’t so great after all.’
‘But you didn’t go after the jurors themselves. You killed someone close to them. Someone they loved,’ Hunter continued.
‘Isn’t revenge sweet?’ she said with a frightening comfortable smile. ‘An eye for an eye, Robert. I gave them back what they’d given me. Heartache, loneliness, emptiness, sadness. I wanted them to feel a loss so great that every day would become a struggle.’
Not all the victims had been directly related to one of the jurors from John Spencer’s case, but it was easy to figure out why. Some of them were lovers. Forbidden lovers, illicit affairs, even gay lovers. Hidden relationships that were impossible to trace back to any of the jurors. A loved one nevertheless.
‘I dedicated my life to finding the right person. The one they loved the most. I took my time following them. I studied their routines. I found out everything there was to know about them. Places they liked to hang out. Secrets about their past. I even went to some filthy sex parties just to get closer to one of them. I must admit though, watching the jurors suffer with every new murder was reinvigorating.’
Hunter threw her a worried look.
‘Oh yes, I took the time to observe them after every kill,’ she explained. ‘I wanted to see them suffer. Their pain gave me strength.’ She paused for a moment. ‘Three of the jurors committed suicide, did you know that? They couldn’t take the loss. They couldn’t take the pain, just like my parents couldn’t.’ She laughed an evil laugh that darkened the room. ‘Just to prove how incompetent the police are, I left a clue with every victim, and you still couldn’t catch me,’ she continued.
‘The double-crucifix on the victims’ necks,’ Hunter confirmed.
She gave him a malicious nod.
‘Like the tattoo your brother had on the back of his neck?’
Another surprised look from Brenda.
‘I checked your brother’s records after I found out about the jurors. I remembered that on the arresting report, under identifying marks, the officer in charge had noted down several tattoos, but he never fully described them. I had to check the autopsy report to find out what they were. A double-arm crucifix to the back of the neck was one of them. You were giving every victim your brother’s mark.’
‘Aren’t you clever? I tattooed the double-crucifix on my brother’s neck myself,’ she said proudly. ‘John loved the pain.’
Hunter felt the air inside his living room go cold. As Brenda recalled putting her own brother through pain, the pleasure in her voice was chilling.
‘But why frame Mike Farloe? He had nothing to do with your brother’s case,’ Hunter asked, trying to fill in one of the gaps he still didn’t have an answer to.
‘He’d always been part of the plan,’ she shot back matter-of-factly. ‘Frame someone believable after the last kill and no one would’ve carried on snooping around. The case gets closed and everybody’s happy,’ she said grinning. ‘But unfortunately I ran into a small problem. The framing had to be put forward.’
‘The seventh victim!’ Hunter said.
‘Wow. You are quick.’ She put on an impressed face.
Mike Farloe had been arrested just after the seventh victim was found. An aspiring young lawyer, daughter to one of the jurors. The closest relation to a juror out of all the victims. With just a little more time Hunter and Wilson would surely have hit upon it, but why try to establish a link between victims when they already had a self-confessed killer in custody? With Mike’s arrest everything about the Crucifix Killer’s investigation came to a halt.
‘She was supposed to be my last victim,’ Brenda snorted. ‘But how was I to know she had a photographic memory? She recognized me from the courtroom when I first approached her. She even remembered the clothes I wore. She became an immediate threat, so I had no choice but to move her up on my list. After that I needed time to reorganize my plan. Framing somebody at the end of it all was always my intention. I found Mike Farloe preaching the gospel on the streets just after I killed that piece of shit accountant.’
The fifth victim, Hunter thought.
‘Mike was easy. A sick pedophile who idolized the Crucifix Killer. I prepped Mike for months, feeding him all the necessary information. Just enough for him to sound convincing when caught. I knew he was ready.’ She shrugged her shoulders. ‘I wasn’t counting on him confessing though, that was just a bonus. It completely stopped the investigation dead. Just what I needed,’ she said with a chuckle. ‘But with his arrest came the opportunity for me to get to someone else on my list. One of the main protagonists of my suffering . . . your stupid fucking partner.’
Hunter’s eyes filled with sudden horror.
‘Oh, I forgot,’ she said with a frozen smile. ‘You didn’t know that was my doing, did you?’
‘What was your doing?’ Hunter asked with a trembling voice.
‘That little boat explosion.’
Hunter felt his stomach churn.
‘With the end of the Crucifix Killer’s case I wasn’t surprised when you and your partner decided to take a break. It was only fair after such a lengthy investigation. All I had to do was follow him.’ She paused and watched as Hunter battled with his own repugnance. ‘You know, they invited me up onto their boat. You can always count on a cop to help someone in need, especially a woman. Once on board, the killing was child’s play. I had him tied up, just like you are now, and then I made him watch. I made him watch while I made the little bitch suffer. There was so much blood, Robert.’ She stared at Hunter for a moment, savoring his pain. ‘And yes, I knew she was your only cousin
. That gave me even more pleasure.’
Hunter felt nauseous, a sick taste regurgitated into his mouth.
‘He begged for her life. He offered me his in exchange for hers. The ultimate love sacrifice, but that was no good to me. I had his life in my hands anyway.’ A short silence followed before she continued. ‘She died slowly while he cried like a baby. I didn’t kill him straight away you know. I left him for a few hours so he could soak in the pain of her death. After that, the only thing left for me to do was bring some fuel barrels from my boat onto his, create a little leak, set some timers and . . . boom. The fire would destroy any evidence I missed.’
The pleasure in her voice was arctic.
‘The greatest thing after that was watching you take the ride straight to rock bottom, it was beautiful. After their deaths I thought you would do it. I thought you would give in and blow your brains out. You were close to doing it.’
Hunter could voice no reply.
‘But then you were given a new partner and it looked like you were starting to bounce back. I still had two more on my list, not counting you, so I figured it was time for us to start playing our game again.’ She ran her hand through her hair in an overly casual way. ‘You were a tough one to get to. A real loner. No wife, no girlfriend, no children, no lover and no family. So I created Isabella, the slut. The one who’d pick you up from a sleazy bar. The one who’d make you fall in love with her.’ Her arrogance was majestic.
‘Do you have any idea what it’s like to go to bed with someone you despise? To allow that someone to touch you, to kiss you?’ She contorted her face into a disgusted look. ‘Every second we were together made my skin crawl. Every time you touched me I felt violated. Every time you left I’d wash myself clean for hours, scrubbing my skin until it was red raw.’ She took a deep breath to calm herself. ‘You were supposed to fall in love with her. She was the one you were supposed to risk your life for. She was the one who’d rip your heart from you before killing you. Can you see the irony, Robert?’
Hunter didn’t shy away from her stare.
‘But you ran away from romance like the devil from a cross,’ she continued in a calm voice. ‘You couldn’t see how special she was, could you? Were you too good for her? Is that what you think? The great Robert Hunter was too good for little, fragile Isabella, is that it?’ she said, mockingly putting on a sad child’s face.
‘That was my mistake. I should’ve spent more time with Isabella.’
Brenda looked deeply into Hunter’s eyes and held them for a while. ‘I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking that if you had spent more time with her you would’ve figured her out.’ She laughed. ‘I’ve got news for you, Robert. You could’ve spent months with her and you still wouldn’t have a clue. Isabella was perfect. I made her perfect. I spent over a year creating her and living her life before finally approaching you. I acquired new mannerisms and habits. I started from scratch. New life, new apartment, new job, new everything. Psychological immersion. You know what that is, don’t you, Robert? I actually became two different people. Nothing linked Isabella to me.’
Hunter could see she was right. The way she walked, her gestures, her posture. Everything was different.
‘No matter how good you are Robert. You’re no clairvoyant. You can’t see what’s not there. No one can. Isabella gave nothing away. No mistakes, no slip-ups. As I’ve said, I made her perfect.’ She allowed Hunter to dwell on it for a few seconds before continuing. ‘Anyway, I was running out of time. I had to adapt my plan. Since you didn’t fall for Isabella, I had to find someone to take her place. Someone you’d risk your life for. Someone who you cared about, but there’s no one, is there, Robert? The closest person to you was your new partner, so he became the obvious choice. I had to act quickly.’
Hunter thought of Garcia lying in a coma. His only fault had been being assigned Hunter as a partner.
‘I have to admit I had my doubts. I didn’t think you’d risk your life to save his. I didn’t think you were capable of such an act. I thought you’d walk away and leave him to die alone. I was sure you’d protect your own skin and that’s all.’ She paused and gave Hunter an irreverent shrug. ‘Robert the martyr, huh? What a fucking joke.’
Brenda was so different from Isabella it was frightening. Hunter studied her for a few seconds, analyzing her movements. She was getting agitated.
‘But somehow you managed to beat the clock twice and still save your partner. You did well, but did you think you’d beat me?’ she asked with a farcical smile as she bent down and stared into Hunter’s tired eyes. ‘You’ll never beat me, Robert. I’m better than you. I’m more intelligent than you. I’m quicker than you and I don’t make mistakes. You are no match for me. My plan was perfect. I’m perfect.’
Hunter lost sight of her as she walked around his chair. The unmistakable sound of a blade being sharpened came from behind him and his heartbeat peaked. He knew he’d run out of time. She was getting ready for the last kill.
Sixty-Nine
‘And now it’s time you finally paid for what you’ve done. For your incompetence, for all the pain you’ve given me, Robert. I figure I probably have a couple of days alone with you. After what’s happened today, I’m sure your captain told you to take a day or two off. No one’s expecting to hear from you so soon. Your partner is out of action. No one will miss you, Robert. By the time they come looking for you . . .’ She didn’t have to finish her sentence.
‘Let me give you an idea of what’s gonna happen to you. First, I’ll put you to sleep so I can operate on your throat. Nothing fancy. Actually, it will be pretty rough. Just enough for me to sever your vocal cords. I can’t have you screaming in here for two days.’
Vroooom. Hunter heard the piercing sound of an electric drill come from behind him. He took a deep breath, but he could feel the fear taking over.
‘Then,’ she continued. ‘When you are awake again, I’m gonna drill holes through your kneecaps, your elbow and your ankle joints. That will shatter the bones into hundreds of little sharp pieces. Any tiny movement, even breathing will cause you incredible pain. I’ll savor the moment for a few hours before moving on.’
Hunter closed his eyes and tried to control the shudder spasms that had started running through his body.
‘After that, I’ll start experimenting with your eyes, your teeth, your genitals and your exposed flesh.’ She grinned. ‘But don’t worry, I’ll keep you alive and suffering until the last second.’
Hunter twisted his neck, but he couldn’t see her. Doubts were flooding his mind. Fear had settled in and he started to regret his decision. Maybe his plan wouldn’t work out.
‘But there’s something I need to do first,’ Brenda whispered.
Unexpectedly he felt his hair being grabbed from behind with tremendous force. His head violently jolted forward. He tried fighting back but he simply didn’t have the strength, the energy. The steel blade against the back of his neck first felt cold as ice, then it burned like volcanic fire. Not a deep cut, he sensed. Just enough to scar the flesh.
The double-crucifix, Hunter thought. I’m being marked for death.
‘Wait . . .’ he called. His voice was still fragile, his throat still too dry, burning with a feverish heat. He had to do something. Buy some time. ‘Don’t you wanna know where you made your mistake? Don’t you wanna know how you’re gonna lose?’
He felt the blade moving away from his neck. Her unsettling laughter echoing throughout Hunter’s small living room. ‘You don’t even know how to bluff, Robert. I never made a mistake. I never left anything behind. My plan has always been flawless,’ she said with patronizing arrogance. ‘And I think you’re starting to go delusional. Let me describe the situation for you. I’ve got you tied up, alone and weak as a wounded animal. I’m the one holding all the knives and you think I’m gonna lose?’
‘See, you’re almost right,’ he said, moving his head back up. He could feel the sting of the flesh wound she’d made
on his neck. ‘But earlier tonight, when I found out about your revenge, about the jurors, about who you really were, I also found out that today would’ve been your brother’s birthday.’
Brenda had moved from behind his chair and was facing Hunter once again. A glistening blade in her right hand, an intrigued look on her face.
‘So I figured out you wanted it that way,’ Hunter continued. ‘The final revenge on your brother’s birthday. The perfect finale.’
‘Very good, Robert,’ she said, clapping her hands. ‘Too bad you decided to start doing all your detective work on the day of your death.’
‘So . . .’ Hunter quickly carried on, ‘before I left the RHD, I placed a call to my captain explaining what I’d found out and he placed a watch on me.’
Brenda frowned. A speck of doubt in her eyes.
‘When I got home, I knew something wasn’t right, I knew someone had been here. That someone had to be you. You knew I’d have a drink or two tonight, so you drugged every bottle of whisky I have because you didn’t know which one I’d go for. But you should’ve placed them back in the correct order.’
Brenda’s eyes moved from Hunter to his small bar and then back to him.
‘They’ve been in the same order for years. I never move them.’
‘If you knew the bottles were drugged, why drink it?’ she asked insolently.
‘Because I knew you wouldn’t poison me to death. It’s not your style. It wouldn’t be revenge if I died without knowing why.’
Hunter could sense Brenda was getting agitated. His heart was in overdrive but he kept his voice calm.
‘I knew you were in my apartment, I could feel your presence. I knew you’d be watching me so I pretended to check my phone by pressing a few keys when in reality I was dialing my captain. If you look inside my pocket, you’ll find that my cell phone is still on. If you look out the window, you’ll find that the building is surrounded. You can’t get out of here. It’s over.’