The Crucifix Killer (9 page)

He walked to the kitchen and pinned Isabella’s note on a corkboard next to the fridge, before making his way back into the bedroom ready to fight insomnia.

From the parking lot, hiding in the shadows a dark figure avidly observed the flicker of lights coming from the third-floor apartment.

Hunter managed to doze off a few times during the night, but that was the best he could do. By five-thirty in the morning he was up and feeling like he’d been hit by a truck. Gritty eyes, dry mouth and a nagging headache that would be with him throughout the rest of the day – all the signs of a sleep hangover. He poured himself a strong cup of coffee and considered adding a quick shot of whisky to it, but that would probably make him feel worse. By six-thirty he was dressed and ready to leave when his cell phone rang.

‘Detective Hunter speaking.’

‘Robert, it’s me, Carlos.’

‘Rookie, you gotta stop calling me so early in the goddamn morning. Do you ever sleep?’

‘Sometimes, but last night it was hard to.’

‘You can say that again. So what’s up?’

‘I just talked to Doctor Winston.’

Hunter quickly glanced at his watch. ‘This early? Did you wake him up as well?’

‘No, he’s been up most of the night. Anyway, he said his team of forensic examiners didn’t come up with anything from the wooden house either.’

Hunter ran his hand over his chin. ‘Yeah, I was half expecting that,’ he said disappointedly.

‘He also said that there’s something he wants to show us, something important.’

‘There always is. Is he in the Coroner’s office now?’

‘Yep.’

‘OK, I’ll meet you there . . . half an hour?’

‘Yeah, that’s enough time, see you there.’

The Los Angeles County Department of Coroner is located on Mission Road. As one of the busiest Coroners in the entire United States, it can receive anywhere up to one hundred bodies a day.

Hunter parked next to the main building and met Garcia by the entrance door. He’d seen his fair share of dead bodies after ten years as a detective, but Hunter still felt uneasy walking down the corridors in the Department of Coroner. The smell was like a hospital, but it had a different sting to it, something that burnt the inside of his nostrils and irritated the back of his throat.

Yesterday’s victim’s autopsy had been conducted in a small separate room in the basement of the building. Doctor Winston had been the medical examiner during the Crucifix Killer case; if anyone could identify the same modus operandi, he could.

‘Why are we going downstairs – aren’t all the autopsy rooms on the first floor?’ Garcia asked intrigued, as they reached the bottom of the stairs that led to an empty and creepy basement corridor.

‘This is the same autopsy room that was used during the Crucifix Killer’s investigation. As the captain said, he wants this whole thing kept under wraps. Those goddamn reporters pay informers everywhere and this place is no different. Until we make sure the nightmare hasn’t started again the captain has asked the good old doctor to use the same precautions as the original case – and that includes no access to the victim’s body by anyone except the doctor himself and us.’

As they reached the room at the end of the narrow, well-lit corridor, Hunter pressed the intercom button on the wall and smiled a silly smile at the camera mounted just above the door. Seconds later Doctor Winston’s voice cracked through the small wall speaker.

‘Robert . . . let me buzz you in.’

A loud buzz echoed through the basement corridor followed by a clicking sound. Hunter pushed the heavy metal door open and stepped inside the room with Garcia.

A gleaming stainless-steel table with a sink at one of its ends was positioned close to the far wall. A large surgical light above the table illuminated the entire room. A tray which was used for placing organs as the examiner removed them from the victim’s body sat close to the sink. The drainage tube from the organ tray was stained orange-brown. The stinging smell was stronger inside the room. Two large surgical saws and several blades of different shapes and sizes were neatly arranged over a small table up against the west wall. The faceless woman’s body lay on the steel table.

‘Come in,’ Doctor Winston said, showing them into the room.

Garcia’s gaze rested on the motionless corpse and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

‘So, what do you have for us?’ Hunter asked quietly as if scared of waking her up.

‘Unfortunately, not much,’ Doctor Winston replied as he slipped on a brand-new pair of latex gloves. ‘My team didn’t manage to lift a single fingerprint from the house and given what we might be facing again, I’m not surprised.’

‘Yes, Carlos told me,’ Hunter said, letting out a disillusioned sigh. ‘How about fibers or something that can give us some sort of start?’

‘Sorry, Robert, the house has given us zilch.’

‘How can that be?’ Garcia asked. ‘The killer has obviously spent hours torturing that woman in that house. How come he left nothing behind?’

‘You said it before, rookie,’ Hunter explained. ‘A secluded location. The killer had all the time in the world to torture her uninterrupted. After she died the killer had all the time in the world to go over the entire house and make sure nothing was left behind. Time is on his side.’

Doctor Winston nodded.

‘How about her?’ Hunter asked tilting his head towards the body. ‘What can you tell us about her, doc?’

‘Twenty-three to twenty-five years of age, very healthy. She took very good care of herself. Her body fat was around 14.5 percent, which is athlete low. You don’t need me to tell you about her muscle tone, which means she was probably a gym rat. No operations or implants either, she still had her tonsils and appendix and her breasts were her own. Her skin still feels very smooth even after rigor mortis and the lab analysis showed a high content of humectants, emollients and lubricants.’

‘What?’ Garcia asked frowning.

‘Moisturizer,’ Hunter replied, trying to end Garcia’s confusion.

‘So she moisturized, most women do.’

‘Don’t I know it?’ Doctor Winston replied in a mocking voice. ‘Trisha spends a fortune on creams that have absolutely no effect; it’s all a big con if you ask me, but the thing about our victim is that the tests have shown a very high-quality grade of it, in other words, she used the very expensive stuff . . . just like Trisha. My confident guess is that she was well off.’

‘Why? Because she used expensive moisturizers?’ Garcia asked.

‘Do you have any idea how much they cost?’

Garcia raised his eyebrows indicating he didn’t.

‘A hell of a lot I can tell you. Also have a look at her nails, both hands and toes.’

Hunter and Garcia checked her hands and feet. Her nails looked very nicely kept.

‘I had to remove her nail varnish, standard procedure,’ the doctor continued. ‘Once again, the tests showed a very high-quality product. Her nails were professionally done, judging by the smoothness of the cut and cuticle. Now, manicure and pedicure isn’t really an expensive treatment, but it highlights how much importance the victim paid to her appearance. The hair analysis showed another high-quality-grade product and judging by its condition she probably had a hairdresser’s appointment at least once a month.’

‘Is her hair dyed?’ Garcia asked.

‘No, she’s a natural blond. Whatever she did for a living, I’d say her appearance played a major part in it.’

‘Rich husband maybe?’ Garcia suggested.

‘No wedding band and no signs that she’d ever worn one either,’ the doctor quickly dismissed the suggestion.

‘So she made good money on her own?’

‘It looks that way, yes.’

‘Was she raped?’ Hunter asked.

‘No, no sexual intercourse for at least forty-eight hours – no lubricant in her vagina or anus, which rules out the possibility of sex with prophylactics – the killer wasn’t after sexual pleasure.’

‘Any identifying marks?’

‘Nothing . . . she’s got no tattoos, no birthmarks, no scars.’

‘Fingerprints?’

‘I faxed them to your captain last night so you’ll have them when you get back to your precinct, but I can also access the Central Fingerprint Database from here – no match, she’s not in the system and as you know we’ve got no chance of getting an ID from her dental records.’ Doctor Winston walked over to his desk and quickly fumbled through a few loose pieces of paper. ‘As I’d suspected, she’d been drugged. I found traces of gamma hydroxy butyrate in her stomach, better known in clubs as GHB.’

‘I’ve heard of that,’ Garcia said. ‘The new date-rape drug right?’

‘Well, it’s not really a new drug. Kids use it in small doses to get high, but an overdose would produce an effect very similar to Rohypnol,’ Hunter clarified.

‘Which is like a blackout?’

‘That’s correct,’ Doctor Winston said this time. ‘Once the subject regains consciousness they can’t remember anything that has happened to them while under the effect.’

‘Can we trace it?’ Garcia asked.

Hunter shook his head. ‘I doubt it. GHB is basically degreasing solvent or floor stripper mixed with drain cleaner; anyone can make it at home, and you can get the correct mixing dosage over the internet.’

‘Kids are mixing degreasing solvent with drain cleaner and taking it as a drug?’ Garcia enquired in surprise.

‘Youth has come a long way since we were kids, detective,’ the doctor replied, patting Garcia on the back.

‘How about the cause of death?’ Hunter asked.

‘Heart, liver and kidney failure. Her body just couldn’t cope anymore. A combination of the tremendous pain she’d suffered together with dehydration and starvation. If she hadn’t been in such good physical condition she would’ve probably lasted only a few hours.’

‘How long did she last?’

‘Anywhere between ten and sixteen hours. She died sometime between 8:00 p.m. on Sunday evening and 1:00 a.m. Monday morning.’

‘She was tortured for almost sixteen hours? Jesus Christ!’ Garcia commented.

The room went quiet for a moment. Doctor Winston was the first to speak again. ‘We have also analyzed the rope that was used to tie her to the posts.’

‘And?’

‘Nothing special there either. Regular nylon rope; it could’ve been bought in any hardware store.’

‘How about the mirror on the bedroom door, it looked new; did we get anything from it?’

‘Not really. We found very old traces of chemicals consistent with mirror adhesives.’

‘So what does that mean?’ Garcia asked.

‘That the killer didn’t buy that mirror – he took it from another door somewhere. I don’t think anyone would’ve reported a stolen door mirror, so tracking it down would be almost impossible,’ Hunter said.

‘And the vinegar in the jar?’

‘Your most common type of vinegar, found in any supermarket.’

‘In other words, we’ve got absolutely nothing,’ Hunter concluded dryly.

‘Oh we’ve got something alright, but you’re not gonna like it . . . let me show you.’ Doctor Winston walked over to the east end of the room where a few photographs were scattered over a small desk, Hunter and Garcia right behind him.

‘This is the carving on our victim’s neck.’ The doctor pointed to the first picture on the left. ‘All the other pictures you see here are from the Crucifix Killer’s case. The carvings are consistent, I’d say with a fair degree of confidence that they were made by the same person, probably with the same sharp instrument.’

The small ounce of hope Hunter had of a copycat killer was crushed. The photographs brought back a hurricane of memories.

This was the first time Garcia had seen any of the forensic evidence of the original Crucifix Killer’s case. He could easily see the similarities in all the photographs.

‘Can you tell us anything about the skinning of her face?’ Garcia asked.

‘Yes, this is where the killer shows us how good he really is, it’s surgically precise – the way the skin had been cut away, the way the lean tissue and ligaments had been left intact – fantastic work. He must’ve spent a fair amount of time operating on her face. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if whoever did this was a surgeon or something along those lines. But then again, we knew that much about the Crucifix Killer.’

‘What do you mean?’ Garcia looked confused.

‘The Crucifix Killer always removed a body part from his victims – an eye, a finger, an ear – human trophies in a way,’ Hunter explained. ‘It’s one of his signatures, together with the carving on the back of the neck and the stripping of the victim. According to the doctor, the removal of the body parts was always surgically precise, and apparently they had always been done while the victims were still alive.’

‘It seems the killer’s got better at it,’ Doctor Winston concluded.

‘Why would the killer take a part of a victim’s body?’ Garcia asked.

‘To remind him of the victim,’ Hunter replied. ‘It’s quite common when it comes to serial killers. Their victims mean a lot to them. Most of the time the killer feels there’s some sort of bond between him and the victim. Some killers prefer to take a piece of clothing, usually an intimate piece of clothing. Some go for a body part.’