The Night Stalker

Fifty

When Hunter got back to his office, he found an email from Mike Brindle in Forensics — the lab results from the fibers found on the wall behind the large canvas in Laura Mitchell’s apartment were in. They had been right in their assumption. The fibers had come from a common wool skullcap. That meant that whoever had hid behind that canvas was somewhere between six foot and six four.

The results for the faint footprints were also in, but because they were set on house dust, and therefore smudged, they weren’t 100 per cent accurate. The conclusion was that they’d probably come from size eleven or twelve shoes, which was consistent with the height theory. The interesting fact was that they had found no sole marks. No trademark imprints, or grooves, or anything. A completely flat sole. Mike Brindle’s take on it was that whoever had waited in Laura’s apartment had used some sort of shoe cover. Probably handmade. Probably soft rubber or even synthetic foam. That would have no doubt also muffled the perpetrator’s footsteps.

After analyzing the entire studio floor for any more size eleven or twelve foot imprints, Brindle arrived at the same conclusion as Hunter and Garcia had. After hiding behind the large canvas resting against the back wall, Laura Mitchell’s attacker had somehow diverted her attention and very quickly gotten to her with a strong sedative, probably an intravenous one.

‘I’ve got the personal info on Kelly Jensen from research,’ Garcia said as he walked through the door, carrying a green plastic folder.

‘What do we have?’ Hunter asked looking up from his computer.

Garcia took a seat behind his desk and flipped open the folder. ‘OK, Kelly Jensen, born in Great Falls, Montana, thirty years ago. Her parents haven’t been notified yet.’

Hunter nodded.

Garcia continued. ‘She started painting in high school. . At the age of twenty, against her parents’ wishes, she relocated here to Los Angeles. . She spent several years struggling and being rejected by every agent and art gallery in the business. . blah, blah, blah, your typical LA story, except she was a painter, not an actress.’

‘How did she get noticed?’ Hunter asked.

‘She used to sell her work on the oceanfront — a street stall. Got noticed by none other than Julie Glenn, New York’s top art critic. A week later, Kelly got an art agent, a guy called Lucas Laurent. He was the one who reported her as missing.’ He paused and stretched his arms high above his head. ‘Kelly’s career took off quickly after that. Julie Glenn wrote a piece about her in the New York Times, and within a month, the canvases Kelly couldn’t give away at the beach were selling for thousands.’

Hunter checked his watch before grabbing his jacket. ‘OK, let’s go.’

‘Where?’

‘To see the person who reported her missing.’