The Night Stalker

Fourteen

Captain Blake let out a frustrated breath and started pacing the room. Her high heels clicked against the wooden floor.

‘It doesn’t make any sense. If the victim was still alive when she was left in that butcher’s shop, and the message on the ceiling was meant for her, how come she was dead when we found her? Who killed her, the rats?’ She pulled a photograph from the board and studied it for a moment. ‘Independently of whatever happened to the victim, the fact still remains that someone placed a bomb inside her and stitched her shut. The only way of getting that bomb out was to cut through the stitches and pull it out.’ She paused and allowed her eyes to move from one detective to the other. ‘Don’t tell me you think the killer expected the victim to do that by herself?’

No one replied.

Hunter massaged the back of his neck, and for a moment allowed his fingers to rub the rough scar on his nape.

The captain turned towards him. ‘I know you, Robert. If you think the message was left for the victim instead of us, you must have a theory on this. I’m all ears.’

‘I don’t have a proper theory yet, Captain, just too many ifs.’

‘You’ve gotta have something brewing in that brain of yours,’ the captain pushed. ‘Indulge me, because right now I hate what I’m hearing.’

Hunter took a deep breath. ‘Maybe the bomb’s how the killer wanted her to die.’

Captain Blake’s eyes narrowed. ‘You think the bomb was supposed to blow up inside her, while she was still alive?’

Hunter tilted his head to one side, musing over the possibility.

Captain Blake sat down in Hunter’s chair. ‘You’re going to have to develop on that, Robert. If this killer thought everything through so thoroughly as Garcia has suggested, and if the bomb was supposed to blow up inside the victim as you’re suggesting, why didn’t it? What happened? Did the killer make a mistake? How would the trigger mechanism be activated while the bomb was inside her? And if he didn’t kill her, how the hell did she die?’

‘As I said, too many ifs, Captain,’ Hunter replied calmly. ‘And at the moment I don’t have the answers. With everything that’s happened, we don’t have much to go on. I don’t know if the killer made a mistake or not. I don’t know why the bomb didn’t blow up inside her, or how it was supposed to be activated in the first place. Without the autopsy report we’ll probably never know the real cause of death. What we do know is that it’s nothing apparent. She wasn’t shot, stabbed, or strangled. I also don’t believe she was poisoned.’ He paused. ‘But there’s a possibility she suffocated.’

Captain Blake threw Hunter a perplexed look. ‘How’s that?’

Hunter pointed to an enlarged picture of the victim’s face. ‘Suffocation causes the blood vessels around the eyes and behind the delicate skin on the cheeks to burst. See here.’ He indicated on the photo. ‘This sort of old-person’s-skin look is a consequence of burst blood vessels. There’s a good chance she suffocated. I confirmed it with Doctor Hove. But again, without an autopsy we’ll never be certain.’

‘So you’re saying that you think she might’ve suffocated by herself, after the killer left her there?’

Hunter nodded.

‘On what? The foul smell of the place?’

Hunter shrugged. ‘Her own vomit. . her tongue. . Who knows? Maybe the victim had a bad heart. But just imagine if she was still alive when she was left in that butcher’s shop — unconscious, but still alive. She wakes up, naked, frightened, in pain, and with parts of her body stitched shut. That’d certainly be enough to trigger a severe panic attack in most people.’

Captain Blake massaged her closed eyelids, considering Hunter’s suggestion. She knew that a panic attack could easily cause someone to vomit, gag or hyperventilate. With the victim’s mouth sewn tightly shut, she’d have no way of drawing in breath and increasing the flow of oxygen to her lungs. That would’ve made the victim’s panic turn into mindless desperation. If she’d puked, the vomit had nowhere to go. Choking and asphyxiating would’ve been just a breath away. And then. . certain death.