Gallery of the Dead

Twenty-Eight

‘What?’ Special Agent Fisher said once she was allowed back into Hunter and Garcia’s office. The look on her face was as if the world had turned upside down during her absence. ‘A joint operation?’ Her stare sought Agent Williams for help, but all he could do was shrug.

‘That’s right, Special Agent Fisher,’ Kennedy confirmed.

‘But sir, that’s absolutely unnecessary. We have this whole investigation under contr—’

‘Special Agent Fisher,’ Kennedy stopped her yet again. This time he sounded angry. ‘We’re not going to keep on doing this and if you are to stand a prayer of being a part of this operation, you better snap out of this superior attitude of yours, and you better do it pronto, do you understand me?’

Agent Fisher looked like she was about to breathe out fire.

‘If I hear that even a single second of this investigation has been jeopardized due to your attitude, you’ll be stuck with office work for the rest of your FBI career. Have I made myself clear?’

Agent Fisher’s stare went from Kennedy to Agent Williams, to Hunter and finally back to Kennedy.

‘Have I made myself clear, Special Agent Fisher?’ Kennedy’s voice was resolute.

‘Yes, sir,’ she replied with a nod. ‘Crystal. You’ll get no problems from me.’

Garcia was about to let fly a new sarcastic comment when Hunter gave him an almost imperceptible headshake.

‘OK,’ Kennedy said, addressing his agents and positioning himself behind Hunter’s desk. ‘Now that we’re all in agreement, how about we get everybody up to speed on what we’ve got so far?’

‘That’d be a good start,’ Garcia said.

Kennedy nodded at Special Agent Williams, who retrieved a blue file from the briefcase he had brought with him.

Kennedy stepped back from the desk, as if to give everyone more space.

‘OK,’ Agent Williams began. ‘The Surgeon first came to our attention a little over two months ago, on February fifteenth to be exact.’

‘The Surgeon?’ Garcia asked.

‘That’s the moniker the FBI is using on this creep,’ Agent Williams explained. ‘The reason, I think, is pretty obvious.’ He indicated the board. ‘But I’ll get there in time, anyway.’

From the blue file, Agent Fisher obtained an eleven-by eight-inch colored portrait of a woman and placed it on Hunter’s desk.

‘The Surgeon’s first victim was Kristine Rivers, a twenty-year-old college student from Wayne State University in Detroit.’

Hunter, Garcia and Captain Blake stepped closer to examine the photograph. As they did, Hunter felt an uncomfortable knot begin to tie itself up at the back of his throat. Though the girl in the photo looked to be no older than seventeen, she reminded Hunter of Professor Tracy Adams. Her gentle heart-shaped face was stylishly framed by long red hair. Her almond-shaped eyes were blue and they seemed to carry a naive sparkle in them. Her lips were full and adorned by a deep red lipstick. Her nose was pointy but delicate, and her cheekbones were prominent and smooth-curved.

‘Miss Rivers was born and raised in Hamilton, Ohio,’ Agent Williams continued. ‘Where her family still lives. She was accepted into law school at Wayne State two years ago.’ He flipped a page on the file he was reading. ‘Miss Rivers shared a small apartment, located on the outskirts of the university campus, with two other sophomore law students: Susan Temple, also twenty years old and from Michigan, and Rosanna Rodriguez, twenty-one years old from Iowa. On the night of February thirteenth or morning of the fourteenth, Miss Rivers failed to come back home from her waitressing job in an All-American Diner in Springwells Village.’

‘Springwells Village is about three miles from where she lived,’ Agent Fisher added.

‘How did she usually get home from work?’ Garcia asked. ‘Did she walk?’

‘No, she took the bus,’ Agent Fisher replied. ‘We checked all the buses’ CCTV footage, talked to all the drivers who had worked that route that night — nothing. It doesn’t seem like Miss Rivers ever boarded the bus home.’

‘What time did she finish work?’ Garcia again.

‘The Diner closed at half past midnight,’ Agent Williams answered. ‘According to everyone who was working that night, Miss Rivers left, by herself, ten to fifteen minutes after closing time. No one noticed her talking to anyone in particular, either. No customers or anyone else who could’ve invited her out once her shift was over. In fact, some of them were grabbing a beer after work, but Miss Rivers said that she needed to get home because she had class early the next morning.’

‘How far away was the bus stop from the diner?’

‘About a block away, and before you ask, there were no CCTV cameras anywhere on that stretch.’

Agent Williams paused and waited for any more questions. None were forthcoming, so he finally carried on with his accounts.

‘The next morning, Miss Rivers’ body was discovered by Detroit PD inside an abandoned wooden shed on the banks of the Detroit River, not that far from the university campus.’ He retrieved four new photographs from his blue file, placing them all on Hunter’s desk. ‘And this was how she was found.’

‘What the hell?’ Garcia said. His surprise was mirrored on Hunter’s and Captain Blake’s faces.

‘Yeah, exactly,’ Agent Williams replied.