The Executioner

Hundred and Six

Garcia used his index finger to rub between his eyebrows. ‘Three weeks,’ he confirmed.

‘Has the lab tested her blood against the one used to draw the number three on Father Fabian’s chest?’

‘No. This was two weeks ago, and though the investigation is still ongoing, Jonathan Hale, with the support of the DA’s office, did everything he could to get the body released. She was cremated two days ago.’

‘Fantastic,’ Hunter said, running his fingers through his hair.

‘It doesn’t matter, Robert. She was pregnant just as you said the second victim would be,’ Garcia said in a more animated tone. ‘Her picture was left in Amanda Reilly’s crime scene by the killer, who drew the number two on the back of it. I don’t think there’s much doubt Debbie Howard was a victim of this same lunatic.’

‘It’s dismissive to think this killer is a lunatic. Don’t make that mistake, Carlos.’

Garcia picked up a new sheet of paper from his desk. ‘In a later interview, Jonathan Hale said Debbie was petrified of water. I mean, going into deep water. We live in a tropical weather city where the sun shines almost throughout the year. They were a very well-off family. Their house is massive, but it’s the only one in their street without a swimming pool. The reason for it is because Debbie never wanted one. She wouldn’t even go close to pools or the beach or anything. Apparently, she came this close to drowning when she was young.’ He brought his thumb and index finger close together. ‘Just like the other victims, Robert, she was killed in the way that scared her the most. As you said, this guy goes after their fears.’

Hunter thought about it for a second. ‘He cut her down,’ he whispered. ‘That’s why no one found the number two on her body.’ He stood up, approached the nonmagnetic marker board and started drawing on it.

‘Debbie is hanging upside down over her bathtub.’ He used a stickman to represent her. ‘Her husband comes in and finds her this way. He panics and cuts her down, but the bathtub is still full of water.’

Garcia took a step closer. ‘Jonathan allowed her body to splash into the tub.’

‘If there was a number drawn on her body, it got washed off.’

‘But why not just force her head into the tub and hold it there like we see it in the movies? Why take the time to hang her upside down and all? The drowning effect would’ve been the same.’

‘No, it wouldn’t,’ Hunter disagreed. ‘We have no pictures, but the report says that only her head and shoulders were submerged.’

‘That’s correct.’

‘If this killer goes after his victims’ fears, how would he exploit the fact that Debbie Howard was petrified of water? How could he really terrify her?’

Garcia rubbed his face as he stared at the crude stickman drawing. ‘Christ…’ He turned to face Hunter as he realized. ‘The tub was empty when he strung Debbie from the wooden beam on the ceiling.’

Hunter nodded. ‘I’m sure of it.’

‘Shit. Debbie knew her head was way past the bathtub’s edge. She could see the water creeping up slowly. She felt it as it wet her hair and forehead and it just kept coming. She had to watch her worst nightmare slowly becoming a reality.’

‘The killer could’ve tortured her even more by stopping the water just as it reached the top of her nose-’ Hunter took over again ‘-forcing her to breathe only through her mouth for a while. But even a calm person in an upright position would’ve found that hard to do, never mind a terrified woman hanging upside down knowing she was about to die. Her drowning was slow and very painful.’

‘That’s fucking creepy,’ Garcia said, screwing up his face.

‘It’s what the killer does,’ Hunter continued. ‘He sat and watched Amanda Reilly cook to death for two days. He slowly and patiently extracted two and a half liters of blood from Darnell Douglas, ten millileters at a time, before stabbing the syringes into his body. I’m sure he watched Debbie Howard drown, and he’d want to make it last. He wanted the torture.’

Garcia shuddered. ‘I’m glad I wasn’t a bully when I was in school. You never know what kind of freaks people may grow up to be.’

Hunter flipped through the autopsy photographs again but stopped halfway through the pile. ‘She had a venipuncture mark on her right arm,’ he announced, lifting one of the pictures to show Garcia and checking the coroner’s notes. ‘Probably acquired on the same day of her death.’

Garcia nodded. ‘The killer needed her blood.’

‘Exactly. Debbie drowned. No spillage of blood for the killer to collect. And he needed blood to draw the number on his next victim – Father Fabian. We need to talk to Jonathan Hale.’

‘Well, that’s gonna be a problem,’ Garcia admitted.

‘Why?’

‘He’s spending Christmas at his parents’ house far away from here.’

‘How far away?’

‘Tennessee.’

‘Damn.’

A knock came to the door.

‘Come in,’ Garcia called.

Hopkins stepped into the room with his usual blue folder under his arm.

‘I found him.’