The Executioner

Seventy-Six

Garcia and Hopkins moved closer to study the map.

‘Same-age kids like to hang out together. They could’ve been part of the same street group,’ Hopkins suggested.

‘Not many LA neighborhoods mix well,’ Garcia countered, ‘and Compton is certainly one of those that don’t. Especially with Gardena.’

Hunter responded with a head tilt. ‘Yeah, but we’re talking twenty-five years ago. Things weren’t so bad then. We didn’t have as big a gang problem as we have today. Neighborhoods mixed a lot better in those days.’

‘That’s true,’ Hopkins admitted.

Hunter kept his eyes on the map for a while longer before checking his watch. ‘This is the best we’ve got, so let’s drop by their old schools and see what else we can find out, ask around a little, check their archives,’ he said, gesturing for Hopkins to hand him the sheet with Amanda’s information.

‘Would you like me to call the schools?’ Hopkins asked.

‘They’ll just bounce you around from person to person. Plus, I’m sure they’ll have some photographs that we’ll need to look at.’ Hunter turned and faced Garcia. ‘I’ll take the priest’s old school in Compton; you check Amanda’s one in Gardena.’

Garcia nodded.

‘I’m still running the two photographs you got from the house in Malibu against the MUPU and the Homicide databases.’ Hopkins turned to his computer and clicked his mouse a few times. Both photographs filled his screen. ‘No matches as of yet with any.’

‘Keep trying,’ Hunter said confidently and noticed a doubtful look about Hopkins. ‘Something wrong?’

‘I’ve been thinking about this. What if these two were killed a while ago? Maybe even years?’ Hopkins offered cautiously, his eyes on the photographs. ‘That’d explain why we haven’t found them yet and why there’s been no link. Maybe the killer started killing sometime ago and had to stop for some reason. Now he’s back.’ He checked his watch absent-mindedly.

‘Sonofabitch,’ Hunter said. His wide-opened eyes moved from Hopkins to the computer screen a couple of times.

‘What did I do?’ Hopkins asked nervously.

‘Those two weren’t killed a long time ago,’ Hunter said firmly. ‘They were killed within the last five months.’

Garcia frowned, struggling to keep up with his partner. ‘And how do you know that?’

‘His watch,’ Hunter said, tapping the screen.

Garcia and Hopkins leaned forward and squinted as they tried to make out the partially obscured timekeeper on the man’s left wrist. Garcia gave up after a few seconds.

‘You can’t really see the entire watch,’ he said, returning to an upright position. ‘Half of it is cut off by the edge of the picture.’

‘Sonofabitch.’ Hopkins this time. ‘It’s an LA Lakers commemorative NBA final champion’s watch. It was only released in July, after the NBA finals in June.’

‘How the hell do you know that?’ Garcia asked.

‘Because he’s got the same watch,’ Hunter said, and all eyes focused on Hopkins’s wrist. ‘Contact the morgues. Get a personal possessions’ inventory for every male body they’ve received in the past eight weeks. We find the watch, we find victim number one.’