The Executioner

Forty-Six

Hunter was leaning against his car in the empty LACDC parking lot. His hands deep inside his jacket pockets. It was a clear day, but cold according to LA standards. A cup of flavorless machine coffee purchased from a gas station rested on the hood of his old Buick. It was 7:10 a.m. Doctor Winston had called him about half an hour ago saying he’d already concluded the autopsy on the new body.

Hunter had been waiting less than five minutes when Garcia pulled up and parked next to him. As he stepped out of his Honda Civic, Hunter noticed his reddish eyes and pale complexion.

‘I guess I wasn’t the only one who got no sleep last night,’ Hunter said, reaching for his coffee.

Garcia shook his head slowly. ‘I freaked Anna out last night.’

‘What do you mean?’ A slight head shake.

‘I called Anna to let her know I’d be home late yesterday, but she decided to wait for me so we could have dinner together.’

‘That’s nice.’ Hunter sipped his coffee and pulled a bitter face.

‘When I got home, Anna was in the kitchen.’ Garcia buttoned up his coat. ‘As soon as she heard me walk in, she threw two steaks onto the grilling pan. The sizzling noise, together with the smell of cooking meat, hit me like a ton of bricks. I puked right there on the kitchen floor.’

‘Oh shit! That can’t be good.’ They started walking towards the LACDC building.

‘Obviously, I didn’t tell her about the investigation and the real reason why, all of a sudden, a sizzling steak was making me throw up.’ He paused and pulled his longish hair away from his eyes. ‘I was born in Brazil, Robert. I was practically brought up on steak. It’s my favorite food.’

‘What did you tell her?’

Garcia laughed tensely. ‘I came up with some bullshit about a stomach bug going around at the station.’

‘Did she buy that?’ Hunter’s eyebrows arched.

‘Hell no. Anna’s too smart for that kind of crap. But she pretended she did.’

Hunter gave Garcia an understanding smile.

‘That’s not all. I needed to have a shower. That godforsaken smell was all over me like zits on a teenager, and I was sure Anna could smell it too. I passed on dinner and locked myself in the bathroom for about an hour. My skin was red-raw from all the scrubbing, but the smell just won’t go away.’ He brought his right wrist to his nose.

‘It’s not on you, Carlos,’ Hunter said without going into details.

‘And then came the tossing and turning in bed,’ Garcia continued. ‘It was like her melted face and burned body were hiding behind my eyelids. I couldn’t close them. Not only did I get no sleep, but I kept Anna up all night. I know I’m starting to scare her again, Robert. She ain’t exactly over what happened during the Crucifix Killer’s case, you know.’

They reached the main building and were allowed in by the security guard, who told them Doctor Winston was waiting for them in autopsy room 2A. They suited up and Garcia popped two anti-acid tablets in his mouth before making his way to the room on the far end of the corridor. The doctor was sitting at the microscope counter, flipping through some result sheets. His shoulders were hunched forward, his hair in a mess.

‘Did you pull an “all-nighter”, doc?’ Hunter asked, closing the door behind them.

Doctor Winston looked up slowly. ‘Almost.’ He gave them a faint smile before approaching the stainless-steel table where the woman’s body lay. Hunter and Garcia pulled their surgical masks over their noses and mouths and followed.

‘What we have here is-’ Doctor Winston paused and shook his head, as if words weren’t enough to explain ‘-a masterpiece of evil. Whoever this killer is, he must’ve hated this woman with every fiber in his body.’