I Am Death

Forty-eight

It was just coming up to lunchtime by the time Garcia got back to the Police Administration Building. A few white clouds had gathered over downtown Los Angeles, providing it with a much-needed break from the incessant summer heat, even if only in the form of a few scattered shadows.

‘We might have a little crack here,’ he said in an animated voice as soon as he entered the office.

Hunter, who was sitting at his desk running over a few paper files, paused what he was doing and turned to look at his partner.

Garcia immediately proceeded to tell him about the passenger who had caught Sharon Barnard’s attention on the morning flight.

‘Operations is already on it,’ he said. ‘They’re contacting US Airways and the FAA for the passenger manifest of both flights.’ He lifted a hand. ‘OK, I’m sure that if this is our guy, he no doubt used a bogus name and probably wore some kind of disguise, but if we establish that it could be him, with the manifest we could then get in touch with the passenger who was sitting next to him. Maybe he or she noticed something Tom Hobbs didn’t. Also —’ this seemed to be what excited Garcia the most because his eyebrows lifted like a drawbridge — ‘LAX is packed full of CCTV cameras, including the transit corridors. If this is our killer,’ Garcia nodded, ‘we’ll get some sort of footage.’

Garcia was so focused on the possibility of some sort of breakthrough, however small it might be, that until that moment he’d failed to notice the see-through, plastic evidence bag on Hunter’s desk. He paused and craned his neck sideways.

The evidence bag contained the brown paper envelope that had been slid under Hunter’s door in the early hours of the morning.

Garcia repositioned himself to have a better look at it. As he did, his breathing froze for a second. He didn’t need to compare it to know that handwriting.

‘What the fuck is that, Robert?’

‘It’s exactly what you think it is.’ Hunter slid the evidence bag towards his partner.

‘It was delivered here?’ Garcia asked without reaching for it.

‘No. Somebody slid it under my door some time in the middle of the night.’

Garcia looked at Hunter as if what he’d just said made no sense.

‘Under your door? As in — under the door to your apartment?’

Hunter confirmed it with a nod.

‘Somebody slid it under your door? Somebody who?’

Hunter shook his head. ‘By the time I noticed the envelope, the person was long gone.’

‘The killer?

‘I can’t think of anyone else, can you?’

‘Holy shit, Robert. Are you telling me that the killer dropped by your apartment to deliver that? He was standing just outside your front door?’

Another nod from Hunter. This time, the movement looked a little more defeated than the previous one.

‘It looks that way. Yes.’

Garcia ran both hands through his hair, pausing as they reached the back of his head. ‘What the hell, Robert? Why? Why would he do that?’

‘I have a suspicion as to why, but I’d like you to read the note first and tell me what you think.’

Despite their investigation not being in the news yet, it wouldn’t have been hard for the killer to get hold of Hunter’s address. All he needed to do was place a call to the PAB and ask for the name of the detective in charge of the investigation. Once he had Hunter’s name, obtaining his address wouldn’t have taken any longer than five minutes.

‘Has forensics seen this?’

‘Not yet,’ Hunter replied. ‘I wanted you to read it first.’

‘Sure,’ Garcia said, picking up the evidence bag and walking over to his desk. As he sat down, he pulled open the top right-hand drawer, reached inside it and retrieved a pair of latex gloves. After gloving up, he turned his full attention to the envelope.