The Night Stalker

Eighty-Six

It was just past eight in the evening when Stephen Anderson answered his phone inside his home office on the outskirts of Healdsburg. Hunter quickly introduced himself.

‘Los Angeles Police Department?’ Anderson said, sounding worried. His voice was husky. Hunter could tell it came from years of smoking rather than natural charm. ‘Are you sure you’ve got the right person, Detective?’

‘I’m certain,’ Hunter replied, motioning Garcia to listen in.

‘And what will this be about?’

‘An article you wrote twenty years ago flagged up on one of our searches. Unfortunately the article is quite brief. I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind giving us a few more details on it.’

Even down the phone line, the silence that followed felt uncomfortable.

‘Mr. Anderson, are you still with me?’

‘Call me Stephen, and yes, I’m still here,’ he said. ‘Twenty years ago. . That must be the Harper family murder tragedy.’

‘That’s right.’

A new brief silence. ‘You said my article flagged up in an LAPD investigation search. I’m guessing, a homicide investigation?’

‘That’s correct.’

Hunter heard the sound of a lighter being flicked a couple of times.

‘You have a victim over there that’s been stitched up?’

This time the silence came from Hunter. Anderson was quick on the uptake. Hunter chose his next words carefully.

‘It sounds like there could be similarities between the Harper case and one of our ongoing investigations, yes, but as I said, your article doesn’t describe what happened in great detail.’

‘And those similarities would be the stitching of the victim’s body?’

‘I didn’t say that.’

‘Oh, c’mon, Detective, I spent thirty-five years as a reporter. I know that the similarities you’re referring to couldn’t just be a jealousy-fueled family murder/suicide, or someone blowing his head off with a shotgun. You’re an LA cop — the city where the freaks come out to play. You probably have crimes like those happening on your doorstep every week. From my article, the only unusual aspect about the Harpers incident is the mentioning of stitches.’

There was no doubt about it, Anderson was quick on the uptake. Hunter conceded.

‘Yes, we have a case here where stitches have been applied to the victim’s body.’

The silence returned to the line for a moment.

‘Do you remember any more details?’ Hunter pushed. ‘Or is the reason why your article was so brief with no follow-ups was because that was all the information you ever had on the case?’

‘Do you know anything about Sonoma County, Detective?’

‘The biggest wine production county in California,’ Hunter replied.

‘That’s correct.’ Anderson coughed a couple of times to clear his throat. ‘You see, Detective, Sonoma lives off its wine production county status in every possible aspect — not only by producing great wine. There are special events every month of the year all around the county which pull in the crowds. Agricultural festivals, holiday celebrations, street fairs, music carnivals and more. There’s always something happening somewhere.’

Hunter could already see where Anderson was going with this.

‘We can’t compare to Los Angeles or Vegas, but we have our share of tourists. Publicizing something as horrific as what happened that day would’ve benefited no one. The Tribune wouldn’t have sold any more copies than it did on a day-to-day basis either.’ Anderson coughed again, a lot heavier this time. ‘I didn’t get to see the scene, but yes, I did find out the details. On that same day I was approached by Chief Cooper and Mayor Taylor. We talked for a long time, and it was decided that it would be in the town’s best interests if the paper didn’t sensationalize the story, and by that I mean I agreed to play it down. So between the police, the mayor and the paper, a very heavy lid was placed over the whole incident.’

‘We really need to know those details, Stephen.’

The pause that followed felt laden.

‘You’re not gonna be breaking your promise to the police chief or the mayor,’ Hunter insisted. ‘None of what you tell me will go any further, but I do need to know those details. It could save lives.’

‘It’s been twenty years, I guess,’ Anderson said after taking a long drag of his cigarette. ‘Where would you like me to start?’