Gallery of the Dead

Fifty-Five

Once again, the man at the metal table scooted forward and placed his elbows on the tabletop.

‘Before we start with this proposal you’re talking about,’ he said, addressing Hunter, ‘how about a gesture of good faith? These handcuffs really are annoying. I would feel much more relaxed without them.’

‘That can be easily arranged,’ Hunter replied. ‘But first, we would need to confirm your identity. Can we have your real name?’

The man exhaled while he weighed the odds. ‘OK,’ he finally said. ‘My name is Owen. Owen Henderson.’

Hunter waited, but the man offered nothing else. ‘You’re going to have to give us a little more than that if you want those removed with any urgency. If you’re not bothered and you don’t mind keeping them on for another few hours, we can go with just Owen Henderson and hope for a quick match.’

The man now had four different faces to study instead of just one, which made the task infinitely harder. He concentrated his efforts on Hunter’s.

‘Before we go there,’ he began. ‘What sort of deal are we talking about? What are you offering and what do you expect back?’

Agent Fisher, who had turned her back on the man and was now facing Hunter, managed to ask him four different questions with a single look: ‘Yeah, what sort of deal are you talking about here? What are you offering? What do you expect back and under whose authority are you able to offer anyone a goddamn deal?’

Hunter disregarded Agent Fisher’s frosty look and approached the table. ‘Somehow you ended up at a crime scene even before the police got there.’

The man could already guess where this was going.

‘There are only two ways in which that would be possible,’ Hunter continued. ‘One: you really are the person we’re after, in which case you’re screwed and this case is over, or two: you were tipped off, in which case we need to know every detail about that tip.’

The man broke eye contact with Hunter while he scratched the back of his left hand. ‘OK, I see what you need from me, but what do I get in return?’

‘You’ll get more than enough information for a very credible news piece,’ Hunter said. ‘Victims’ names, locations, dates... you know how it goes.’

The man continued regarding Hunter with the utmost attention. So much so that he missed the angry look Agent Fisher gave the LAPD detective.

‘And I get my photos back,’ the man said. ‘All of them.’

‘You’ll get your photos back,’ Hunter accepted.

Agent Fisher looked like she was about to put a stop to the entire conversation, but Agent Williams signaled her to hold on for a while longer.

‘But there’s one condition,’ Hunter added.

‘Oh really?’ The man didn’t look very impressed. ‘And what condition would that be?’

‘You’ll have to give us a few days before the piece is published,’ Hunter revealed. ‘Or else you will jeopardize the entire investigation and there’s no way we will allow that to happen.’

The man drummed his fingers against one another. ‘How many days are we talking about here?’

‘We need a week,’ Hunter replied.

The man shook his head. ‘No. I can give you three days.’

‘This is not a negotiation,’ Hunter came back, his voice so commanding it made the man blink. ‘I will not put this investigation in harm’s way for you or anyone else. That’s the deal. It’s that or nothing. No information. No pictures. No anything. Good luck trying to find anyone who will publish your flimsy article.’ As Hunter made his way toward the door, everyone else turned their backs on the man and followed suit.

‘OK, fine,’ the man called out. There was a little defeat in his voice. ‘I’ll give y’all seven days from today. It will give me more time to write the article, anyway.’

Everyone stopped and turned to face him.

‘So how about we speed this up?’ Hunter said.

The man nodded once. ‘Owen Henderson, 531 West 17th Street in Clark Park, Phoenix, Arizona. I’m a freelance investigative reporter and photographer. I’ve had articles and photographs published by the New York Times, the LA Times, the Chicago Tribune, the Washington Post, and the Miami Herald, to name a few.’

From the corner of his eye, Hunter saw Agent Williams reach for his cellphone before exiting the room.

‘OK,’ Hunter said. ‘Give us five minutes.’

‘Hey,’ the man called out. ‘How about my handcuffs?’

Hunter paused by the door. He was the last one of the group. ‘If everything checks out, Owen, I’ll take those handcuffs off myself. I’ll be back in five minutes.’

‘Seriously? C’mon, man. Why the hell would I lie now?’

Hunter wasn’t listening anymore.