The Crucifix Killer (37 page)

‘Nothing else was found inside the car, right? No fingerprints, no fibers, only a hair strand from a wig?’

‘And you’re thinking this doesn’t sound like our guy, right?’ Hunter concluded. ‘The killer cleans the entire car as he’s done with every crime scene, but leaves a hair behind?’

‘He’s never screwed up before, why would he screw up now?’

‘Maybe it isn’t a screw-up.’

Garcia stared at Hunter with uncertainty. ‘What are you saying? He wants to be caught now?’

‘Not at all. He might just be playing games like he’s always done.’

Garcia still looked unsure.

‘He knows we can’t afford to overlook this. He knows we’ll be following this up, checking with every wigmaker in LA, spending time and resources.’

‘So you think he might’ve left the hair behind on purpose?’

Hunter nodded. ‘To slow us down. To buy him time to plan his next kill. He’s getting closer to his final act,’ he said in a quiet voice.

‘What do you mean, final act?’

‘These killings have some sort of meaning to the killer,’ Hunter explained. ‘As I’ve said before, I’m sure this killer has an agenda, and something tells me he’s about to complete it.’

‘And you believe if we don’t catch him before he completes his psycho agenda, we’ll never catch him. He’ll simply disappear.’

Hunter nodded slowly.

‘So let’s catch him,’ Garcia said, pointing to the brown envelope Hunter had obtained from the hospitals.

Hunter smiled. ‘The first thing we gotta do is eliminate anyone under twenty or over fifty years of age from the list. After that let’s try and get a picture of everyone that’s left. We might just come up with something.’

‘Sure, pass me one of the lists.’

‘Have you been through the old investigation files?’

‘I’m still on them.’

Hunter looked pensive for a moment.

‘What’s up?’ Garcia asked.

‘Something’s been bothering me. Maybe the Crucifix Killer did frame Mike Farloe to throw us off course. Maybe he made a mistake and he had to cover it.’

‘A mistake?’

‘Maybe. It could be something to do with the last victim. The one just before we caught up with Mike Farloe. A young lawyer, I remember that. Do you have her file?’

‘It should be here.’ Garcia started searching through the files on his desk.

Their conversation was interrupted by Garcia’s fax machine’s ringtone. He pulled himself closer to his desk and waited for the printout to come through.

‘Você tá de sacanagem!’ Garcia suddenly said after staring at the received fax for half a minute.

Hunter didn’t understand Portuguese but he knew that whatever it meant, it wasn’t good.

Hunter stared at his partner and waited, but Garcia kept his eyes on the fax, still mumbling something in Portuguese. ‘What the hell is it?’ Hunter shouted impatiently.

Garcia extended his hand displaying a black and white picture of a woman. It took Hunter a few seconds to realize what he was looking at. ‘Is that Jenny Farnborough?’

Garcia shook his head. ‘No this is Vicki Baker.’

‘Who?

‘Victoria Baker, age twenty-four, works as a manageress for a gym called 24 Hour Fitness in Santa Monica Boulevard,’ Garcia read from the foot of the picture.

‘I know that gym,’ Hunter cut in.

‘Apparently she was supposed to have gone to Canada on the second of July.’

‘And did she?’

‘It doesn’t say.’

‘Who sent us this?’

‘Logan from the Missing Persons’ Department. We still have a flag up on anyone that looks like the computer-generated image we got from Doctor Winston remember?’

Hunter nodded.

Because the first victim hadn’t been positively identified yet all protocol measures were still in place and that included constant checks against new entries to the MUPU database.

‘When was she reported missing?’

Garcia checked the fax’s second page. ‘Two days ago.’

‘By who?’

Another check. ‘Joe Bowman, the head manager of the gym.’

Hunter grabbed the fax from Garcia’s hand and studied it for a minute. The resemblance was there, but then again attractive, tall blonds seemed to grow on trees in Los Angeles. Hunter could clearly see how easily Vicki Baker and Jenny Farnborough could both be matched to the original computer-generated image. On their rush to identify the first victim they’d simply assumed Jenny Farnborough was their girl.

‘When did Jenny go missing from the Vanguard Club?’ Hunter asked.

Garcia flipped through a few pieces of paper he’d taken from his top drawer. ‘On the first of July. Vicki went missing one day later.’

‘This girl might not have gone missing on the sixth. She might’ve taken the plane to Canada and gone missing there, or when she got back, we don’t know yet. Let’s call the gym and check if this Joe Bowman is on duty today. If he is we’ll be on our way. The head of Customs at LAX is an old buddy of mine. I’ll get him to check if she boarded the plane on the sixth.’

Garcia quickly went back to his computer and with just a few clicks he had the gym’s information in front of him. He dialed the number and sat back on his chair waiting impatiently for someone to pick it up at the other end. It took only three rings for Garcia to get an answer. The conversation was restricted to about five sentences.

‘He’s on now until eleven-thirty tonight,’ Garcia said as he replaced the receiver.

‘Let’s go, you drive. Let me just call Trevor first.’

Trevor Grizbeck was the head of Customs and Immigration for the Los Angeles International Airport – LAX. Hunter knew there was no way he’d get an airline to disclose passengers’ information without a warrant, and he didn’t have time for one. It was time to call in some favors.

The sun had already set, but the heat seemed almost as intense as in the afternoon. Hunter sat in silence and read Victoria Baker’s fax sheets over and over again, but it still looked too surreal. Just as they were arriving at the gym in Santa Monica his thoughts were disrupted by his cell phone.

‘Trevor. What have you got for me?’

‘Well, as you know I have no access to airline records, but I do have access to Immigration records. Just to be on the safe side I checked from the 1st to the 12th of July. Victoria Baker never cleared passport control.’

‘She never boarded the plane.’

‘It looks that way.’

‘Thanks, bud.’

‘Sure, man. Don’t be a stranger.’

With his badge in hand Hunter forced his way through the small crowd at the gym’s entrance lobby to reach the reception desk.

‘Is Joe Bowman the manager here?’ he asked even before one of the two receptionists had a chance to check his credentials.

‘Yes.’ The reply sounded a little shy.

‘We need to speak to him.’ His voice was demanding.

Both detectives watched as the blond receptionist quickly picked up the phone and dialed the manager’s direct line. A quick murmured conversation followed.

‘Trish, can you handle it out here by yourself for five minutes?’ the blond girl asked, putting the phone down and turning to the other receptionist, a short, red-haired girl with a handful of freckles under each ocean-blue eye.

‘Yeah, I’ll be alright,’ Trish replied with a slight Texan accent.

The blond receptionist pressed a button behind the counter and the light on one of the turnstiles went green. ‘Please come through, gentlemen,’ she said to both detectives before joining them on the other side. ‘Please follow me.’

The manager’s office was at the far end of the packed main gym floor. The receptionist knocked three times and as the door opened they were greeted by a striking-looking African American man, about two inches taller than Hunter and at least twenty pounds heavier, all of it muscle. He was wearing a black, skintight T-shirt that seemed to be two sizes smaller than he needed and his crew-cut hairstyle made him look like an army sergeant. He introduced himself as Joe Bowman.

‘This is about Vicki I presume,’ he said, showing both detectives into the room.

‘That’s correct,’ Hunter said as they occupied the two leather chairs facing an attractive black and white desk. Joe sat behind it.

Hunter studied the man behind the desk for a quick second. ‘You look familiar, have we met before?’ he asked, squinting as if searching his memory.

Bowman stared at Hunter for a moment. ‘I don’t think so, not that I can remember anyway.’

Hunter dismissed the thought after a few seconds with a quick shrug of his shoulders. ‘You were the one who reported Victoria Baker missing, is that right?’ he asked.

‘Yes.’

‘And why was that?’

Bowman looked up from his hands with a dubious smile. ‘Because she’s gone missing.’ He pronounced every word slower than normal.

Wise-ass, Hunter thought. ‘What I mean is why you? Are you her husband, boyfriend, lover?’

Bowman’s eyes moved to the receptionist who was still standing by the door. ‘That will be all, Carey. I’ll take it from here.’

In silence she stepped out of the room and closed the door behind her.

His attention came back to the detectives. ‘I’m not her husband, boyfriend or lover. I’m married.’ He made a head movement towards a picture on his desk of a woman with short black hair and a contagious smile.

Hunter acknowledged the photograph but the sorrow in Bowman’s eyes betrayed him.

‘She was supposed to be back at work on the twenty-sixth, but she never showed up. That’s very unlike her. She’s a very responsible person, very professional, never takes sick days or time off, always on time.’

‘But why you and not her family, husband or boyfriend?’

‘Vicki isn’t married and she’s not in a relationship at the moment. Her family is from Canada. She was flying back there to see them. She lives alone in a small rented apartment a few miles from here.’

‘Has her family contacted you?’ Hunter asked. ‘If they were expecting her and she didn’t turn up, wouldn’t they be worried?’

Bowman looked at Hunter nervously. ‘They didn’t know she was going up there. Sort of a surprise you see? What do you mean, she didn’t turn up?’

‘We checked with the airline, she never boarded the plane.’

‘Oh my God!’ Bowman said, running his hands through his hair. ‘She’s been missing for all this time?’

‘You said she was supposed to be back here on the twenty-sixth of last month, still you only reported her missing two days ago – the thirty-first. Why did you wait five days?’

‘I just got back from Europe on the thirty-first. I was in a bodybuilding competition.’

‘When did you leave for Europe?’ Garcia asked.

‘Two days after Vicky left.’ He stared down at his trembling hands. ‘I should’ve tried calling her when I was in Europe; we spoke on the day she was supposed to go to Canada,’ he murmured in a sad tone.

‘Why would you call her? She’s just an employee, right?’ Hunter pushed him.

Joe Bowman looked uncomfortable. He tried giving Hunter a pale smile but failed.

Hunter pulled his chair closer to his desk and leaned forward, resting both elbows on it. ‘C’mon Joe, it’s time to come clean now, she was more than just an employee, right?’

Silence.

‘Look Mr Bowman, we’re not the marriage police. We’re not here to question you about your relationship with your wife,’ he pointed to the framed picture over the desk. ‘But Victoria Baker might be in some serious trouble and all we wanna do is help, but for that we need your cooperation. Whatever you tell us, will stay between us. If she means anything to you, please help us.’ Hunter gave him a confident smile.

Bowman hesitated for a moment, staring at his wife’s picture. ‘We are in love,’ he finally gave in.

Hunter kept his eyes on Bowman, waiting for him to carry on.

‘We’re thinking about moving in together.’

Garcia’s eyes widened in surprise. ‘How about your marriage?’ he asked.

Bowman massaged his eyes with his right hand taking his time to answer. ‘My marriage died a couple of years ago.’ His eyes were back on the picture over the desk. ‘The love is gone . . . the conversation is gone . . . it’s like we’re total strangers to each other. We tried patching things up a year ago, but there’s nothing there to patch up.’ His tone was firm with a hint of sadness.

‘When did you and Vicki start seeing each other?’

‘About eight months ago. She has this thing about her, this contagious happiness . . . she made me happy again. So a couple of months ago I decided I would ask my wife for a divorce and do what makes me happy, and that is being with Vicki.’

‘Did Vicki know? Did you tell her about your plans?’

‘Yes, that’s why she was going back to Canada.’

Hunter gave him a puzzled look.

‘She wanted to let her parents know that she was thinking about getting a place together with me. She wanted their blessing.’