The Crucifix Killer

Forty

Hunter lay awake in darkness staring at the ceiling, his mind too full of thoughts to fall asleep.

Was that how the killer chose his victims? From bars, clubs and parties?

This killer wasn’t one to stick to any routine and Hunter had a feeling he was missing something, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He felt exhausted and drained of energy. No matter how hard he tried, his brain would never disconnect for more than just a few seconds. He knew he was starting to fall into the same abyss as before, and his partner was following on the same path. He couldn’t allow that to happen.

The room was silent except for the tender breathing sound of the brunette sleeping next to him. Her hair soft and shiny, her skin beautifully smooth. Her presence calmed him.

After their quick interview with Rachel Blate, Hunter and Garcia had gone back to their office. There, Hunter met up with Patricia Phelps, the RHD sketch artist, and they both went back to Isabella’s apartment. Garcia had decided to stay behind, saying he wanted to check up on a few things. Isabella had done her best to remember everything she could about the tattooed man she met a few months ago. It had taken her fifty-five minutes and three cups of tea, but in the end Patricia had sketched an image that Isabella agreed was pretty close to the man she’d seen.

After Patricia was done, Isabella asked Hunter to spend the night with her. Hunter’s revelation that she may have met the killer had scared her too much. She felt alone and vulnerable and Hunter was the only person she could think of, the only person she wanted next to her. Hunter was itching to get on with the case. To start processing the new information he got today, but he couldn’t leave Isabella alone. Not tonight.

‘Can’t sleep?’ Hunter hadn’t noticed that Isabella was also awake. He shifted his body to face her.

‘Not really, but I never sleep much anyway, I’ve told you that.’

‘Aren’t you tired?’

‘My body is tired. My brain’s wide awake. My brain always wins that argument.’

She moved closer and kissed his lips softly. ‘I’m glad you decided to stay.’

Hunter smiled and watched as she struggled to keep her eyes open, her head resting against his bare chest. Hunter hadn’t spent two consecutive nights with the same woman in a very long time. He had no time for romance, no interest in sharing his life with anyone at the moment. And he preferred it that way.

He carefully moved her head back to her pillow and skillfully eased himself out of bed leaving her undisturbed. In the kitchen he found the jar of instant coffee she’d bought especially for him and a smile danced on his lips. Hunter made himself a strong cup before walking into the living room and dumping himself on the comfortable sofa, his mind rummaging through both interviews from the day before. Once again it looked like they’d established some sort of link between two of the victims. Jenny and George knew each other, he was sure of it. Sex parties, he thought. Did the killings have a sexual meaning behind them? Was the killer after promiscuous people? Still more questions than answers, but Hunter could feel they were inching closer. For the first time he felt excited about this case. For the first time they had something to go on – a face – maybe.

He had another sip of his strong coffee and wondered how many cups he’d need to get through the day. He checked his watch – 6:00 a.m., time to get ready.

He slowly opened the door to Isabella’s room to check on her. She looked peaceful. She was still asleep when he left.