The Night Stalker

Seventy-Three

The rain was coming down a little harder now, drumming against the window just behind Hunter. The wind had also picked up.

‘Give me a sec,’ he said before disappearing down a small corridor. Moments later he returned with a portable stereo system.

‘I found this on the Internet, almost by chance,’ Myers said as Hunter cleared the table, placed the stereo on it and plugged it in.

‘What is it?’

‘An interview.’

Hunter paused and looked up. ‘With Katia?’

Myers nodded and handed him the CD. ‘It was first aired by KUSC Radio. It’s a dedicated classical music FM station.’

Hunter nodded. ‘Yeah, I know it. It’s run by the University of Southern California.’

Myers pulled a face. ‘I didn’t know you were into classical music.’

‘I’m not, but I read a lot.’

Myers moved on.

‘The entire interview is about an hour long with a few classical pieces thrown in so the whole thing isn’t just talk. In the first half, Katia is talking to the radio DJ, answering questions he puts to her. In the second half, she’s answering questions that were phoned or emailed in by listeners.’ She tilted her head to one side. ‘I’m not that cruel, so I’m not gonna make you listen to the whole thing. I’ve copied only the important bits.’

Hunter slotted the CD in, pressed play, and adjusted the volume.

‘Welcome back. This is KUSC Radio, the best in classical music in Los Angeles and California.’ The DJ’s voice sounded exactly like what most people would expect the voice of a classical music station DJ to sound like — velvety and soothing. ‘We’re back with our special guest this afternoon, someone most of you will need no introduction to. The Los Angeles Philharmonic concertmistress, Katia Kudrov.’

A small section of a violin solo faded in for several seconds and then out again.

‘OK, just before the break we talked about your early beginnings and how much you struggled to dominate your instrument, but now we’re moving onto something a little more personal — love and romance. Is that OK?’

There was a small pause, as if Katia was considering something.

‘Yeah, sure, as long as you don’t make me blush.’ Her voice was delicate but not fragile. There was confidence in her tone.

‘I promise I won’t. OK, you describe yourself as a hopeless romantic. Why?’

A timid chuckle. ‘’Cause I am, really. And here comes the first blush. My favorite movie is Pretty Woman.’ Giggles.

‘Yeah, I’d say that’s reason enough to blush,’ the DJ laughed.

‘I’m like a little girl when it comes to love. I know this might sound naïve, but I’d love for that kind of fairy tale to exist.’

‘The “true love” fairy tale?’

‘Yes. The magical make-you-float-on-air kind of love. Sparks flying the first time you set eyes on someone and you just know you were made for each other.’

‘Have you ever been that much in love?’

Another chuckle. ‘No, not yet. But there’s no rush, and I have my music. That really does make me float on air.’

‘I’d say your music makes us all float on air.’

‘Thank you.’ A short pause. ‘And now I’m really blushing.’

‘So, judging by your comment about sparks flying the first time you set eyes on someone means you believe in love at first sight?’

‘Absolutely.’

‘And what would someone have to say or do to grab your attention?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Nothing?’

‘Nothing. I believe that love is a lot more than words, or looks. It’s something that hits you and then just takes over, without any warning. I believe that when you meet the person you’re supposed to spend the rest of your life with—’

‘The proverbial “soul mate”?’ the DJ interrupted.

‘Yes, your soul mate. I think that when we meet that person, we just know. Even from a silent moment. Even if he doesn’t say a word at first.’

‘OK, I guess I can see what you mean, but he can’t be silent forever. He’ll have to say something eventually. So what would that have to be? How would he grab your attention?’

‘He wouldn’t have to do or say anything in particular, but let me tell you my favorite romantic story.’

‘OK.’

‘As a teenager, my grandmother’s first ever job was as a flower girl in a street market in Perm in the old Soviet Union. My grandfather worked in a tailor shop, just a few streets from the market. Her first day at work was the very first time he saw her, and just like that, he fell madly in love. My grandfather was an attractive man, but he was also very, very shy. It took him sixty days to gather up the courage to finally say something to her.’

‘Sixty?’ the DJ commented.

‘Every morning on his way to work he walked past her stall. Every morning he’d promise himself that’d be the day he’d speak to her. And every morning when he saw her, he’d become too nervous. Instead of speaking to her, he’d just walk on in silence.’

‘OK, so what happened?’

‘What my grandfather didn’t know was that my grandmother had also fallen in love with him from the first day she saw him. Every day she watched him walk past the flower stall, and every day she hoped that he’d stop and ask her out. So one morning, he gathered all the courage he could muster, walked up to my grandmother, looked her in the eye and managed to whisper five little words: “You take my breath away.”’

Myers reached over and pressed the pause button.

Hunter’s memory flashed back to the deciphered answering machine recording Myers had given him a few days ago. The very first words Katia’s kidnapper had said had been exactly those — YOU TAKE MY BREATH AWAY. .

By the way Myers looked at Hunter, he knew that there was more to come.