The Executioner

Eighty-Five

Claire stopped picking at the fancy food and stared at Hunter uncomfortably. Her smile vanished. ‘Do you think she’s in danger?’

‘It’s a little too late to be asking that question, don’t you think? If you wanna be a crime reporter, it stands to reason that you maintain a good relationship with the people in the force, especially detectives.’ He stopped and waved his hand. ‘Oh, that’s me.’ His irony was back. ‘You could’ve called and run the story by me before going to press. It’s actually common practice. That way you don’t piss us off, we get to have a first look at what kind of bullshit you’re about to print, and if there’s anything we judge detrimental to the investigation we can ask you to omit it. By doing that, you keep us sweet and – who knows? – we might even share some information.’

‘I tried calling,’ she shot back with irritation. ‘But you didn’t return any of my calls. Do you even check your messages?’

Hunter ran his hand over his mouth. ‘How did you get her to talk to you?’

‘I’ve got my methods.’

‘You just sounded like a torturer.’

‘There was no torture.’ Claire shook her head and smiled.

Hunter glared. ‘You lied to her, didn’t you? What did you say? That you worked with me and you needed a few more details?’

Another enigmatic smile.

‘You bitch.’

‘Fuck you, Robert. I tried talking to you, but you didn’t wanna know.’ Her voice got louder, and some of the neighboring tables sent a disapproving look their way.

‘You tried taking me back to your place. You call that talking?’

‘Fuck you. Don’t come telling me how I should do my job.’

‘Someone should, ’cos you’re obviously fucking it up.’

‘Only an arrogant bastard like you could call getting a story on the front page of the LA Times “fucking it up”.’

‘It’s not a story, Claire; it’s a case, and people’s lives are at stake.’ Hunter paused for a deep breath. ‘You scared her away. I need to find her before something happens.’

Claire narrowed her eyes. ‘You want my help, don’t you?’

‘Do you know where she is?’

‘Wait a second. You did all this, played the macho detective, scared my date away, called me incompetent and now you ask me for my help?’ She leaned back on her chair and put on a snobbish face. ‘Oh, this is rich. No wonder you have no wife or girlfriend. You have no tact with women.’

Hunter kept silent, his eyes holding Claire’s.

‘If I tell you where to find her, what information will you send my way?’

Hunter’s eyes narrowed. ‘Are you serious?’

She studied him for a second. ‘Dead serious.’

‘Have some decency, Claire. She’s just a girl, and she’s probably scared shitless. I’m just asking you to do the right thing.’

‘If you rub my back, I’ll rub yours.’ A whisper of seduction in her voice. ‘Nothing in this world is free. At least not the good things.’ She gave Hunter the same inviting wink she’d given him the first time they met.

‘Her life could be in danger.’

No reaction.

‘You don’t give a shit, do you?’

‘A lot of people die every day in this city, Robert. It’s a fact of life. We can’t save everyone.’

‘But we can help this girl. That’s all I’m asking.’

‘And all I’m asking is for something in return.’

Hunter’s cell phone went off. He held Claire’s gaze for a tense moment.

‘Aren’t you gonna answer that?’ she asked, conscious that heads were starting to turn.

Hunter reached into his jacket pocket. ‘Detective Hunter.’

‘Detective, it’s Monica.’ A quick pause. ‘I mean, Mollie.’ She sounded like she was crying.

Hunter turned away from Claire. ‘Are you OK? Where are you?’ he asked, but the only reply he got was static noise. He quickly covered the mouthpiece with his hand and looked back at the reporter. ‘You’re wrong, Claire-’ getting up, he placed five twenty-dollar bills on the table ‘-there’re a lot of good things in this world that are free.’