by Chris Carter
Hunter noticed that Tanya’s hands were trembling again.
‘He had no nose either,’ Tanya added. ‘Just a stump, as if it had been bitten off, or ripped off his face, or something. And his eyes were like a devil’s.’
‘Like a devil’s?’ Garcia asked. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Their color.’
‘What about their color?’
‘They were red. And I don’t mean just the iris.’ She pointed at one of her own eyes. ‘I mean everything. There was no white to them at all. They looked just like two blood-filled holes.’
Her breathing had once again become labored. It took her a moment to get it back to normal.
‘The rest of the skin on his face, including his head . . .’ Tanya gestured as she explained, ‘. . . was lumpy and leathery, as if his face had been burned.’ Another nervous shake of the head. ‘Look, I know it was just a mask, but it was the most evil-looking thing I’ve ever seen. I’ve never been so scared in my life.’
Hunter wasn’t surprised. After hearing Tanya’s story, he was sure that she felt exactly the way the killer wanted her to feel – vulnerable and terrified.
‘So it was a full-head, rubber-type mask?’ Garcia asked. ‘Not one of those with an elastic band or a ribbon that you fix or tie around the back of your head?’
‘Oh no, it was definitely a full-head mask. I’m sure of it.’
‘Do you mind if we ask one of our sketch artists to get in contact with you?’ Hunter enquired, grabbing Tanya’s attention again. ‘A composite drawing of this mask could help us.’
Tanya breathed out while pulling her robe tight around her body again. A typical sign that she was feeling vulnerable.
‘Yes. Of course.’
Hunter thanked her with a smile before continuing. ‘You also referred to the caller as “him”. But you said that the voice had been electronically altered to sound like a demon’s voice in a horror film, right?’
Tanya agreed.
‘Was there anything that gave you a clear indication that the caller was male?’
She took a second. ‘The mask was one thing. As horrific as it was, it was of a male’s face, not a female one, but there was also the shoulders and the body type. Too wide. Too strong for a woman’s. Whoever that maniac was, he was dressed all in black, and the clothes were tight-fitting. I couldn’t see all of him, but what I saw was definitely too muscular for a woman.’ For a moment Tanya looked a little confused. ‘Are women even capable of doing something like that? Of that sort of violence?’
‘Some are,’ Hunter replied.
Confusion mutated to shock.
‘How long have you and Ms. Ward been friends for?’ Garcia took over.
‘Umm . . . about three and a half years. We met during our cosmetology course at the Academy of Beauty and instantly became best friends.’
‘Was Pete Ms. Ward’s boyfriend?’
Tanya’s left eyebrow lifted slightly as she looked back at Garcia.
‘You said that for a moment during the call, you thought that Karen and someone called Pete were playing a joke on you. Who’s Pete? Was he Karen’s boyfriend?’
‘Oh, no.’ Tanya smiled as she shook her head. ‘That would be Pete Harris. He’s not into women at all. He’s a makeup artist and a very good friend of ours. He does a lot of “on location” makeup for film studios, so he’s always traveling. The last I heard he was in Europe working on-set with Tom Cruise or some big name. I thought that maybe he was back and he and Karen had decided to punk me with some sick joke. Pete’s got a very weird sense of humor, if you know what I mean.’
Garcia wrote something down on his notebook.
‘OK . . . do you know if Ms. Ward was romantically seeing anyone?’
‘Pfff, not even close,’ Tanya replied in a tone that suggested the implication was bordering on the ridiculous. ‘Not with all the . . .’
All of a sudden she paused, holding her breath.
‘Oh, my God.’ Her eyes widened, but they seemed to be focusing on nothing at all again. ‘I never thought of that.’ She blinked once. ‘I had completely forgotten about that.’
Hunter and Garcia eyeballed each other for a split second.
‘Forgot about that, what?’ Garcia asked.
Tanya’s gaze slowly crawled back to the detectives sitting in front of her.
‘Karen’s stalker.’
Thirteen
Though Mr. J (that was how the man preferred to be called) had had the same infuriating melody programmed into his ‘waking-up’ alarm for the past year and a half, that morning it took him more than a moment to shake off the fog of sleep that enclosed him, and for his ears and brain to recognize and decode the sound he was hearing. Fog finally cleared, Mr. J sprang into action, reaching for his cellphone on the bedside table and quickly switching off his alarm.
Carefully, he rolled over and looked at the woman lying in bed next to him. Cassandra, his wife of twenty-one years, was facing the other way, seemingly still fast asleep.
Mr. J breathed out a sigh of relief, glad that he had gotten to the alarm before it had a chance to wake her up. He lay there for a couple of beats, staring at the way Cassandra’s wavy fair hair caressed her naked shoulders. He thought about sliding over towards her and gently kissing the back of her neck – once, twice . . . a thousand times – but he knew that if he woke her up then and in that particular manner, they would both end up late for work . . . and that had already happened twice that week.
When Mr. J had first met Cassandra all those years ago, her temper and impulsiveness were among the many things that had attracted him to her. She was the most understanding and supportive woman he had ever met. Her opinions on whatever subject they discussed were always intelligent and thoughtful. She was stimulating. She was inspiring. She was fun, and not a moment they spent together could ever seem dull. They had gotten married only three months after they’d started dating and, back then, their lust for each other seemed to know no end. They spend most of their time together in bed, and no one was surprised when they announced her pregnancy so soon after the wedding. If it’d been up to Mr. J, he would’ve had more children, at least one more, but Cassandra told him that for the time being, one was enough.
‘Maybe a little later, honey,’ she had said, but that ‘later’ had never materialized. Instead, their relationship took a nosedive.
Every couple, no matter how in love they are or once were, will inevitably reach a rough patch in their relationship, especially when it comes to their lovemaking. In Mr. J and Cassandra’s case, that rough patch began with the birth of their son, Patrick. At first, although still relatively regular, sex had become a lot less fervent, and a lot more calculated and careful. The almost total withdraw came years later, when little Patrick reached his teens. For Mr. J, those had been the worst years of his marriage.
Virtually every time he tried approaching his wife, Cassandra would politely but unequivocally reject his advances. Only occasionally would she allow him to make love to her, and even then the act was quick and felt highly mechanical; yet, on some very rare nights, she would be the one reaching for him, and on those nights it would be just like the old days, better even.
Cassandra would wait for Mr. J to turn off the lights and climb into bed before pulling him towards her. First she would kiss his entire body until she could taste his goose bumps, then she would tease him even more with little passionate bites to his neck and shoulders before taking him into her mouth and bringing him to the verge of explosion, but never quite. She would give him a moment to catch his breath and then make him lie on his back and climb on top of him. She would dig her nails into his chest so wildly that most times she would draw blood, but Mr. J didn’t care. In fact, he loved everything about it. He loved how Cassandra would shiver while she was on top of him. He loved when he heard her pleasured moans, and, most of all, he loved seeing her close her eyes and gasp in such an intoxicating way, it would virtually transport him into another dimen
sion.
Yes, there was no doubt that Cassandra had quieted down considerably after the birth of their son, particularly during his teen years, but now that he had gone off to college, she had started behaving more and more like her early self. The impulsiveness was back. The unpredictability was back and her passion and lust for her husband was back, albeit not with the same intensity as when they first met, which was understandable and, in Mr. J’s eyes, a blessing of sorts. He was now long past his early twenties and, in reality, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to handle Cassandra if her desire for him had reverted back to the way it was all those years ago.
But one thing was for sure: despite all the hurdles their marriage had been through, despite all the little problems they still had, Mr. J had never stopped loving his wife. If there really was such a thing as a soul mate, he had no doubt found his.
Fourteen
Despite Hunter and Garcia’s suspicions based on all the clues they had found inside Karen Ward’s apartment, the word ‘stalker’ still resonated in their ears like a bomb going off inside an echo chamber.
‘Karen Ward was being stalked?’ Garcia asked, sending a skeptical look Hunter’s way.
‘Oh, my God,’ Tanya whispered under her breath, bringing a hand to her mouth. She didn’t seem to have heard Garcia’s question. ‘I can’t believe it. I can’t believe I didn’t even think of it.’
‘Tanya?’ Garcia called, dropping his head a little to his left to try to recatch her eye. It didn’t work. Her stare had refocused on a random spot on the rug.
‘Tanya?’ He tried again.
Nothing.
‘Ms. Kaitlin?’ Firmer this time.
She finally broke away from her mini-trance and looked back at Garcia.
‘Sorry. What was that?’
‘Did Karen Ward ever tell you about her being stalked?’
‘Umm . . . yeah.’ Tanya still looked a little dumbfounded. ‘Yes, of course she told me. We were best friends. I just can’t believe I didn’t even . . .’
‘Could you tell us about it?’ Garcia interrupted her.
Tanya let go of a laden breath. ‘I can tell you what I know.’ She readjusted herself on her seat, this time finally scooting deeper into it and resting her back against the backrest. ‘I think it all started less than a year ago, after Karen got her job with Burke Williams, a very prestigious beauty spa in Santa Monica. You see, Karen was an awesome cosmetologist. Very knowledgeable. Very attentive to detail. Very good at what she did, and a sweet, sweet person. All of her clients loved her, so it was no surprise that she managed to land such a desired job so quickly.’
‘And that was when she moved from Alhambra to Mar Vista,’ Hunter said, remembering the information Garcia had read from his file.
‘Yes, that’s right,’ Tanya replied. ‘Very nice little apartment too.’
‘Was she sharing it with anyone?’
‘No, she lived alone.’
‘OK,’ Garcia said. ‘So what happened once Ms. Ward started working at Burke Williams?’
Tanya crossed her legs and scratched her left knee. ‘Well, I think it was about two months after she joined BW, she started getting these creepy notes.’
‘Notes?’
A head nod. ‘Yes. Paper notes – not text messages, not emails, not voice messages. Just a note on a regular piece of paper – no name, no signature, no address, no nothing.’
‘Did she recognize the handwriting at all?’ Garcia asked.
‘Oh no, I forgot to say, they weren’t handwritten either.’ Tanya’s gaze moved to the now empty pack of cigarettes on the coffee table and she breathed out in disappointment. ‘They were put together from letters and words cut out from magazines and newspapers. Just like those freaky ransom notes you used to see in old movies.’
Hunter found that odd and particularly unsettling. ‘You said “notes”, so there was more than one?’
‘Yes. I think she got maybe two or three of them in the few months she was working at BW, but they were enough to scare her.’
‘Was that the reason why she decided to leave Burke Williams so soon?’ Hunter asked.
A new, emphatic head nod. ‘Karen was really shaken by those notes. She didn’t know what else to do.’
‘Didn’t she take them to the police?’ Garcia this time. ‘Filed a complaint? Started an enquiry? Got them investigated?’
Tanya uncrossed her legs. ‘That’s what I told her to do. I even offered to go with her.’
‘And did she? I mean, did you go to the police with her?’
‘No, she didn’t want to.’
Garcia’s surprise was palpable. ‘And why not?’
Tanya shrugged. ‘She didn’t think the police would be able to do much since the notes were completely anonymous. She was afraid that they would just ask her a few questions and then push everything on to the backburner. She couldn’t see how that would stop her being scared, or any subsequent notes that could’ve followed. The notes really frightened her. She wasn’t sleeping well. She believed that if she simply moved away and changed her job, everything would be OK again. The notes would stop.’
‘Did she believe that the notes could’ve come from one of her clients at Burke Williams?’ Hunter asked, scribbling something down on to his notepad.
‘I did ask her that,’ Tanya confirmed. ‘But the truth was that she didn’t know what to think. She couldn’t understand why she was getting them at all. Karen had just started working at BW back then. She didn’t have that many regular clients. She also told me that at the time, all of her clients were women. Plus, as I’ve said before, Karen was the sweetest person you could ever meet. Everyone loved her, why would a client want to do something like that to someone like Karen?’
‘You said before that Ms. Ward wasn’t seeing anyone romantically?’ Garcia asked.
‘No, she wasn’t.’
‘When was the last time she was involved with anyone?’ Garcia insisted. ‘Do you know?’
Tanya looked away for an instant, thinking back. ‘Way over a year ago,’ she replied. ‘She was just finishing her internship at Trilogy, but it wasn’t anything serious.’
‘How so?’
Tanya shrugged. ‘Karen went on a few dates with this guy she met back then. He wasn’t American. He was from somewhere in Europe – Sweden or Switzerland or something like that, but neither of them was looking for anything serious. Karen’s priority was to get as much experience as she could from Trilogy so she could get a good first job. The guy, I think his name was . . . Liam, or something like that, he was studying music somewhere. Anyway, he finished his studies and went back to Europe just before Karen finished her internship.’
Garcia nodded. ‘No one else in recent months? Ms. Ward was a very attractive young woman. I’m sure she got asked out often.’
‘No one else I know about,’ Tanya replied. ‘Yeah, you’re right. When we went out together to bars or lounges or whatever, usually someone would try his luck, but she never really looked interested. I never saw her take anyone’s number, or give hers away.’
‘Did Karen ever show you any of these notes?’
Hunter saw Tanya’s jaw tense.
‘Yes . . .’ she replied. ‘She showed me one of them, once.’
‘Do you remember what it said?’
Tanya eyed the empty pack of cigarettes on the coffee table one more time. She was getting anxious again. She rested her elbows on the chair’s arms as she thought back. The memory brought with it an uncomfortable shiver.
‘It said something about touching her, about making her scream and about tasting her fear. I . . . can’t remember the exact words, but I remember that the note did creep me out, especially because of the cut-out letters and all. That was why I told her that she should take it to the police.’
Hunter was still observing Tanya attentively. The jittery edge had returned to her.
‘You said that Ms. Ward believed that if she moved away and changed her job everything would be OK
again. The notes would stop.’
‘Yes, that’s right.’
‘Did they?’
As she began shaking her head, tears came back to Tanya’s eyes. ‘No. At first she thought they had. She’d been in her new place in Long Beach for over a month and everything seemed great. Her new job at True Beauty was also going well. Karen was beginning to relax again, but then one night, a few weeks back, she called me in a panic, saying that she’d gotten another note.’
‘Did Ms. Ward show you this new note?’ Garcia asked. ‘The one she received after she moved to Long Beach?’
‘No, she just told me about it over the phone.’
‘Did she tell you what it said? Do you remember it?’
‘No, she never told me. I asked her, but she never told me. She just said it was just like the others.’
‘Did she ever tell you how she got the notes?’ Hunter pushed. ‘Were they left in her postbox . . . or under her door?’
Tanya nodded at Hunter, but this time it was a nervous, almost fearful movement. ‘The previous notes were all left under her door, not in her postbox, but not the one she got once she moved to Long Beach.’
She paused, as if she needed time to wrap her head around what she was about to tell them.
‘The note she got in Long Beach . . . she found it on her bed. It was left under her pillow.’
Fifteen
‘We need to call Operations,’ Hunter said as soon as they stepped out of Tanya Kaitlin’s apartment.
‘Sure,’ Garcia replied. ‘What do you need?’
‘We need to ask them to run a check against all logged nine-one-one calls for Karen Ward’s residential area for the past . . . I’d say three months.’
‘Nine-one-one calls? Why?’
‘Because the guy we’re after is cautious,’ Hunter answered. ‘And he likes to plan ahead.’
Garcia flicked his palms up while giving Hunter an inquisitive look. ‘What does that mean?’
‘Do you remember what Tanya Kaitlin told us about the call she received?’