Gallery of the Dead

Two

‘Good evening, everyone.’

Despite having the assistance of a microphone and a powerful PA system, UCLA psychology professor Ms. Tracy Adams understandably projected her voice a little louder than usual. She was standing before a full-to-capacity one-hundred-and-fifty-seater lecture hall, and the chit-chatter of so many animated voices made the place sound like a giant beehive. The audience comprised not only enthusiastic criminology and criminal psychology students, but also several other tutors, who were all very interested in hearing tonight’s lecture.

Professor Adams’ captivating green eyes, behind old-fashioned, black-framed cat-eye glasses, circled the auditorium.

‘We’re just about to start,’ she continued. ‘So if those of you who aren’t already seated could please find a seat, that would be much appreciated.’ She paused and waited patiently.

Professor Adams was no doubt a fascinating woman — intelligent, attractive, knowledgeable, charismatic, elegant and intriguingly mysterious. It was no wonder that so many of her students, male and female, had developed a somewhat adolescent-like crush on her, not to mention some of the faculty staff. But tonight, Professor Tracy Adams wasn’t the reason why the large lecture hall, located on the northwest quarter of the UCLA campus in Westwood, was heaving with people.

A full minute went by before everyone had finally taken their seats.

‘Well,’ Professor Adams said. ‘I would like to start by thanking everyone for being here. If only I could get this sort of turnout to all my classes...’

Subdued laughter broke out across the auditorium.

‘OK,’ she carried on. ‘Before we begin, if I may, I’d like to give you all some background information on tonight’s special guest.’ Her eyes briefly moved to the tall and well-built man standing to the left of the stage.

The man, who had his hands tucked into his trouser pockets, replied with a timid smile.

Professor Adams’ attention moved to the notes in front of her, resting on the speaker’s podium, before returning to the audience.

‘A psychology graduate from Stanford University,’ she began. ‘He received his first degree at the age of nineteen.’ Her next three words were delivered with a deliberate pause between them. ‘Summa cum laude.’

A wave of surprised mumbling moved across the room.

‘Also from Stanford University,’ she continued, ‘and still at the tender age of twenty-three, he received a Ph.D. in Criminal Behavior Analyses and Biopsychology. His thesis, which was titled “An Advanced Psychological Study in Criminal Conduct” became, and still is to this day, mandatory reading at the FBI’s NCAVC.’ A short pause. ‘For those of you who don’t know, or have forgotten what NCAVC stands for, that’s the FBI’s National Center for the Analysis of Violent Crime.’

She checked her notes then looked back to the crowd.

‘Despite being offered a profiler’s position with the NCAVC’s Behavioral Analysis Unit several times, tonight’s guest has never accepted the offer, choosing instead to join the Los Angeles Police Department.’

More surprised mumbling, this time a little louder.

Professor Adams waited for it to die down before continuing.

‘As a member of this city’s police force, he moved through its ranks at lightning speed, becoming the youngest ever officer to make detective for the LAPD. Since then, his crime-solving record has been second to none.’

She paused again, this time for effect.

‘Our guest tonight is a highly decorated detective with the LAPD’s HSS — the Homicide Special Section — which is an elite branch of the Robbery Homicide Division that was created to deal solely with serial and high-profile homicide cases requiring extensive investigative time and expertise.’

Professor Adams raised her right index finger to emphasize her next point. ‘But that’s not all. Due to his background in criminal behavior psychology and the fact that this beautiful city of ours seems to attract a very particular breed of psychopaths...’

Laughter returned to the lecture hall.

‘... Our guest was placed in an even more specialized entity within the HSS. All homicides involving overwhelming sadism and brutality are tagged by the LAPD as Ultra Violent Crimes. Our guest tonight does a job that most detectives in this country would give their right arm not to. He is the head of the LAPD’s Ultra Violent Crimes Unit.’ She turned and once again looked at the man standing by the side of the stage.

One hundred and fifty pairs of eyes followed hers.

‘It took me a looong time to finally persuade him to come to UCLA as a guest speaker and to talk to all of you about one of the most intriguing subjects as far as criminology and criminal psychology are concerned — the modern-day serial killer.’

The room fell eerily silent.

‘Tonight, it gives me great pleasure to be able to introduce to you Detective Robert Hunter of the LAPD.’

The place erupted in ovation.

Professor Adams motioned Hunter to join her.

Detective Hunter freed his hands from his pockets and slowly took the three short steps that led up to the stage. As he locked eyes with the professor, she gave him a confident smile, followed by a very sensual but almost imperceptible wink. He broke eye contact, faced the applauding auditorium and shyly bowed his head. Hunter really wasn’t used to any of this.

‘Break a leg,’ Professor Adams whispered as she handed Hunter the microphone and left the stage the same way he had come up.

Hunter waited until the place had gone quiet again.

‘I guess I would like to start by once again thanking all of you for being here. I must admit that this wasn’t what I was expecting.’

It was Hunter’s turn to give Professor Adams the eye.

‘I thought that I’d be speaking to maybe twenty to twenty-five students, max.’

More laughter from the crowd.

Renewing her smile, the professor shrugged at Hunter from the edge of the stage.

‘Before I begin, please allow me to explain that I’m no public speaker and I’m certainly no teacher, but I’ll do my best to try to relate to you what I know, and to answer whatever questions you may have.’

Once again, the audience broke into applause.

Hunter was unsure what the audience’s knowledge level was, so he started with some basic definitions — like the difference between a serial killer, a spree killer and a mass murderer. The explanation was substantiated by a few examples of incidents that had taken place recently in the USA.

He proceeded by giving his audience a seven-point list of the phases of a serial killer, from the Aura Phase — the very beginning, where the killer-to-be starts to lose his/her grip on reality — to the Depression Phase — the great emotional letdown that in most cases follows the murder act.

‘Before I move on,’ Hunter said as he finished explaining the final phase, his voice taking a much more serious tone. ‘When it comes to serial homicides, the most important thing I’d like you to remember is that...’

He was interrupted by his cellphone vibrating inside his jacket pocket.

He paused and reached for it.

‘I’m so sorry about this,’ he said, raising his right hand at the intrigued audience. ‘If you could all give me just a minute.’ He switched off the microphone and placed it on the podium. ‘Detective Hunter,’ he said into the mouthpiece. ‘UVC Unit.’

As he listened to the caller on the other end of the line, his eyes found Professor Adams’. No words were necessary. She could read the expression on his face. She’d been by his side before when a similar call had come in.

‘You’ve got to be joking.’ She mumbled the words in disbelief before taking to the stage again and approaching Hunter. ‘Why am I not surprised this is happening tonight?’

Hunter disconnected from the call and faced her.

‘I’m terribly sorry, Tracy,’ he said, his voice low and constricted. He could see her disappointment. ‘I need to go.’

She nodded her understanding. ‘It’s OK, Robert. Go. I’ll explain it to everyone.’

As Hunter rushed off the stage, Professor Adams grabbed the microphone from the podium, let out a sad sigh and faced a very confused crowd.