The Executioner (30 page)

Hunter thought it over. ‘OK, let’s try and get back in contact with the school principal or anyone who might know where to find these graduating pictures.’ He glanced at the girls’ photograph. ‘Two out of four girls on that picture are dead. The other two are probably in great danger. We need to find them, and we need to find them fast.’

Clang
. The office door slammed shut with a thundering noise, making both detectives turn around. Captain Blake was standing inside the room. She looked furious.

‘What the fuck do you two think you’re doing?’ The question was spat out between clenched teeth.

Both detectives frowned as they exchanged puzzled looks before facing the captain.

‘Are you sure you’re yelling at the
right
detectives, captain?’ Hunter answered, cocking his eyebrows.

Captain Blake’s piercing gaze focused on him. ‘Are you sure you wanna get cute with me today, Robert?’

Hunter straightened his body. ‘Captain, we were out all day. I have no idea what you’re talking about.’ He looked at Garcia.

‘Me neither.’ Garcia shook his head, his stare jumping from Hunter to Captain Blake.

‘Would you care to explain?’ Hunter said calmly.

‘I thought I’d made myself clear about you going after that psychic girl, if that’s what she is.’

Hunter’s confused look intensified. ‘Did she call?’

‘How the hell would I know that? Do I look like your personal answering service?’

Hunter glanced at Garcia, who was staring at the captain wide-eyed. ‘Maybe you should get to the point before that bulging vein on your forehead pops, captain. We still don’t know what this is all about.’

‘Did you see the paper today?’

Garcia shook his head. Hunter held a blank stare.

‘Oh, I forgot. You don’t read the paper ’cos it depresses you, isn’t that what you said?’

Hunter was in no mood to carry on with the irony game. ‘What’s in the paper, captain?’

‘The two of you – front page.’ Captain Blake slammed the copy of the
LA Times
she had with her on Hunter’s desk. The paper was folded in half. A black and white photograph of Hunter and Garcia sitting at an outside table in the company of a young woman occupied a quarter of the page. Hunter snatched the paper. Garcia joined him by his desk, trying to read the article over Hunter’s shoulder. The girl in the picture was Mollie Woods.

Hunter read the small article in silence. It went on to explain how detectives Robert Hunter and Carlos Garcia of the HSS were so stuck for leads in their investigation into the murders of Father Fabian and Amanda Reilly that they had to resort to asking for the help of a psychic girl. The article had been written by Claire Anderson.

‘Bitch,’ Hunter murmured.

Garcia grabbed the paper from Hunter when he was done.

‘You went behind my back on this,’ the captain said angrily.

‘We were just talking to her, captain, listening to what she had to say. That’s what we do in investigations, remember? We talk to people, we ask around.’

‘According to that article, you asked her to help with the investigation. Did you do that?’

No reply.

‘Without clearing it with your superior officer? In this case, me.’ The captain stood with her hands on her hips.

Hunter ran a hand over his face and breathed out. ‘It’s psychology, captain.’

‘What?’

‘She was nervous, hesitant. I had to make her feel at ease and unthreatened. By telling her that we
needed
her help I shifted the power balance.’

‘So you
did
ask her for her help?’ the captain pressed.

‘It was a play on words to get her to talk to us, captain. I’m the lead detective in this investigation. I did what I thought I should do. That’s how I work.’

‘Hold on.’ Captain Blake lifted a hand, stopping Hunter and glaring at him. ‘Did you just throw a title at me? You’re the lead detective in this investigation because I said so, a decision I’m starting to regret. We’ve now become the laughing stock of LA’s law-enforcement agencies. The article called us the
mystic police
, Robert. The
tarot cops
.’ She paused, and her stare bounced between Hunter and Garcia for a while. ‘No surprise the mayor’s been on the phone screaming like a lunatic, and he’s now accusing me of being unable to run this department properly. He said I lack authority, unlike my predecessor. Do you know how much that pissed me off?’ She didn’t wait for a reply. ‘He’s on a crusade to get you busted down to traffic duty if not off the force for good, and let me tell you, he’s gaining momentum.’ She started pacing the room. ‘I told you I wanted this to go by the book. That if you found this girl, you were to bring her here. She needed to be interviewed under caution and I wanted to observe.’

Hunter rubbed his eyes and leaned against his desk. ‘She was
scared
, captain,’ he said slowly. ‘She wanted to talk, but not here. She felt nervous in the interrogation room. She wanted to meet in a public place.’

‘So you disobeyed my order because that’s what she wanted?’

‘I had to make a decision, captain,’ he replied firmly. ‘Go by the book or hear what she had to say. We couldn’t have both.’

‘How the fuck did the paper get to know what we talked about?’ Garcia asked. ‘High-powered directional mikes?’

Hunter shook his head. ‘Eavesdropping could lead to prosecution. Claire Anderson can be a bitch, but she ain’t stupid, she wouldn’t risk it. Plus, if she had eavesdropped, she would’ve published everything Mollie told us about what she saw.’

‘And what exactly is it that this girl told you?’ The annoyance in the captain’s voice was now reaching new heights.

Hunter related the whole conversation he and Garcia had had with Mollie Woods the day before. The captain listened without interrupting, her perfectly threaded eyebrows lifting slightly at times, showing surprise.

‘She knew about the numbering?’ the captain asked, her eyes fixed on Hunter, who nodded in silence.

‘I’ve always been skeptical about this whole extrasensory perception thing, captain,’ Garcia interrupted. ‘But after yesterday, I think this girl’s the real deal.’

‘Even if she is, the fact of the matter is that you disobeyed my orders. You made me and this whole department look stupid.’ She paused for a moment, considering what to do. ‘It’s obvious that your reporter friend has talked to this Mollie girl. Now, she’s gonna have a ton of reporters descending on her. Where is she?’

Silence.

‘Don’t fucking tell me you don’t know.’

‘I told her we needed to keep in touch. She said she’d call me today. She hasn’t yet.’

‘Why don’t you call her?’

‘She doesn’t have a cell phone.’

The captain let out a deep breath. ‘Did she tell you where she lives?’

‘No, and I couldn’t force her.’ Hunter took a seat behind his desk.

‘We won’t be able to find out either, will we?’ The captain massaged her neck, trying to relax her tense shoulder muscles. ‘She’s too young to have a proper tenant agreement, and I’ll be very surprised if she used her real name to rent a room anywhere. If she saw the papers, and my guess is that she did, she’s running scared. The problem is, vision or not, she knows details about this investigation that can’t be leaked. Do you understand what I’m saying, Robert?’ Her voice calm and authoritative. ‘You’re not the only one who knows psychology. If some of these reporters catch up with her, they’ll persuade her to talk, I can guarantee you that. Find her.’ She opened the door but spun around before leaving to face both detectives. ‘If you ever pull another stunt like this or disobey a direct order from me again, I swear to God the next job you’ll be doing will involve touching shit with your hands.’ The door slammed behind her hard enough to make the room shake.

Garcia punctured the silence that followed with a nervous sigh. ‘Do you have any idea where Mollie could be?’

‘I’ll find her,’ Hunter replied. ‘Trust me.’

The luxurious Hilton Hotel in Beverly Hills – known as the Beverly Hilton – stands imposingly at number 9876 Wilshire Boulevard. Just a short walk away from the famous Rodeo Drive and Century City, the hotel is a favorite retreat for stars and for those who appreciate being treated like one.

At 8:30 p.m. Hunter sat alone at a corner table near the entrance to the busy and stylish lobby bar. Other than the small saucer filled with assorted peanuts, the only other object on the table was an empty whiskey tumbler. His eyes followed a well-dressed thirtysomething man as he walked in and grabbed the attention of the absurdly tanned barman. Hunter waited a few seconds before approaching him. They talked for less than a minute.

Trader Vic’s Lounge, a meticulously decorated Polynesian-themed indoor/outdoor restaurant and cocktail bar, is one of two gourmet restaurants inside the Beverly Hilton. That’s where the well-dressed man had come from. That’s where Hunter was heading.

She was sitting alone, sipping champagne at a candlelit table by the east wall.

‘Have you seen any famous people yet?’ he asked, standing in front of her table. ‘I heard this place is a must if you wanna play spot the celebrity, but I haven’t seen any.’ He smiled. ‘I probably wouldn’t recognize them anyway. I don’t watch much TV and I barely go to the movies.’

She put her glass down and stared at him, surprised. It took her a few seconds to overcome the shock and string a sentence together. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’

‘What, are you kidding? This is one of my favorite hangouts.’

Claire Anderson chuckled cynically. ‘Somehow I doubt that very much, Detective Hunter. But the blazer and tie suit you.’

Hunter adjusted his tie. ‘Thanks. I thought we were past the Detective Hunter and Miss Anderson phase.’

‘How in the world did you know I’d be here tonight,
Robert
?’

Hunter frowned. ‘Is that a serious question? Maybe the hint is in what I do for a living.’

‘Oh yes, I forgot. The mighty Robert Hunter. Shouldn’t you be using your powers to look for a sadistic serial killer instead of stalking me?’

‘You should talk about stalking.’ He took the empty seat directly in front of her. ‘You wrote the book on it.’

‘What’re you doing? You can’t sit there. I’m with someone.’

‘You mean the married guy in the shiny new dark gray suit, short black hair with a cleft chin?’ Hunter nodded and screwed up his face at the same time. ‘He left.’

‘What?’ Her face dropped in realization. ‘That was you, wasn’t it?’

Hunter’s expression indicated he didn’t know what she was talking about.

‘The maître d’ came over a moment ago and whispered something into Sean’s ear. He excused himself and said he’d be right back. That was you.’

Hunter didn’t answer.

‘Who told you Sean was married?’

Hunter leaned back and crossed his legs. ‘I didn’t really come here to talk about your date, Claire.’

The maître d’ came over to announce that their starter was ready. Claire was about to send it back, but Hunter got in before her.

‘It’s OK, you can serve it.’ He turned to Claire. ‘You ordered it, we might as well eat it.’

‘You’re an asshole.’ She ran her hand through her shiny hair, which she had straightened to perfection.

‘Your hair looks nice that way,’ Hunter said, disarming her for an instant.

A tall waiter returned with their starters. ‘Excuse me. What’s this?’ Hunter asked, pointing to the plate in front of him.

‘Crab Rangoon folded in a wonton skin with cream cheese,’ the waiter answered with a polite smile. ‘Anything wrong, sir?’

‘No, no. That’s fine.’

‘I guess you’re upset about the article today?’ Claire said after the waiter left.

‘The article didn’t bother me in the least.’ Hunter pointed to the jug of iced water on the table. ‘Is it OK if I have some water?’

‘Knock yourself out.’

He poured himself a glass and had a sip. ‘What did piss me off no end was the picture.’

‘Why? I thought you looked quite cute,’ she teased.

‘She’s just a girl, Claire.’ Hunter’s tone went from playful to morbidly serious. ‘You put her life at risk.’

‘What the hell are you talking about?’ Claire shot back.

‘You think psychopathic killers don’t read the papers?’

‘So?’

Hunter shook his head. ‘You didn’t do your homework properly, did you? Many killers have an agenda, which they’ll do
anything
to complete. If they feel that agenda is threatened in any way by someone or something, they tend to try and eliminate that threat. In your article you not only made it clear that she was a threat to the killer, but you also gave him her picture. He now knows what she looks like.’

Claire stopped picking at the fancy food and stared at Hunter uncomfortably. Her smile vanished. ‘Do you think she’s in danger?’