The Crucifix Killer - Chris Carter [128]
‘So the killer has knowledge of explosives?’
‘At least some,’ Hunter said nodding.
‘What do you mean “At least some”?’
‘I don’t believe the bomb was anything spectacular. Definitely not state of the art or terrorist style. Yes, the killer would need some knowledge of explosives to put it together and build the detonating mechanism, but he wouldn’t need to be an expert.’
‘And where the fuck would he get explosives from?’
‘This is America, Captain,’ Hunter answered with a sarcastic chuckle. ‘The land where money buys you anything you want. With the right contacts and cash you could get an antiaircraft gun never mind a small amount of explosives to blow up a basement room. If the killer has enough understanding of chemistry he could’ve built it himself using easy-to-purchase chemicals.’
The captain shook his head in silence for a few seconds. ‘We’re gonna have to come clean about this case you know that, right? The press is all over this now. Explosives, a detective being crucified alive. It’s a goddamn circus out there, and we’re the clowns.’
Hunter had nothing to say. The room had almost stopped spinning and he tried standing up once again. As his feet touched the floor Hunter let out an agonizing grunt. His new shoes had done a good job of rubbing his feet raw.
‘Where the hell do you think you’re going?’ the captain asked.
‘I gotta go see Carlos – where is he?’
The captain ran his hand over his mustache and regarded Hunter with a sharp gaze. ‘I told you, in the ICU. C’mon, I’ll show you.’
As he walked past the small mirror to the left of the room door, Hunter stopped and peered critically at his outline. He looked like death. Hundreds of small cuts covered his tired and pale face. His eyes were bloodshot. His lower lip was swollen and disfigured. A blob of dried blood decorated the right corner of his mouth. He’d aged ten years in one afternoon.
‘You must be Anna,’ Hunter said as he entered the L-shaped ICU room.
A short dark-haired woman was sitting next to Garcia’s bed. Her complexion heavy, her hazel eyes swollen from crying.
‘And you must be Robert.’ She sounded weak and shattered.
Hunter attempted to give her a smile, but his cheeks gave way. ‘I’m sorry we’re meeting this way.’ He extended a shivering hand.
She shook his hand with the most gentle of touches, her eyes filling up with tears. In silence all three of them stared at an unconscious Garcia. He lay flat under a thin coverlet. Tubes came out of his mouth, nose and arms looping away through the bed frame and connecting to two separate machines. His hands and head were heavily bandaged and his face bruised and cut. A heart monitor beeped steadily at the corner of the room and at the sight of it Hunter shuddered.
Garcia looked peaceful but fragile. Hunter stepped closer and placed a soft hand on his right arm.
‘C’mon, rookie, you can fight this, this is easy,’ he whispered tenderly. ‘The difficult part is over. We got out of there, rookie. We beat him. We beat him at his own game . . . you and I.’
Hunter kept his hand on Garcia’s arm for a while longer before turning to face Anna. ‘He’s very strong, he’s gonna come out of this easy. He’s probably just sleeping it off.’
Anna had no reply. Tears rolled down her face. Hunter returned his attention to Garcia and bent over to draw level with him. He seemed to be searching for something.
‘Is something wrong?’ the captain asked.
Hunter shook his head and pressed down on Garcia’s pillow around neck height being careful not to disturb his head. Very gently he ran his finger around the back of his partner’s neck.
‘C’mon, he needs the rest and so do you,’ the captain said, moving towards the door. Hunter wanted to say something to Anna, but words simply evaded him. He merely followed the captain and no one said a word until they were back in Hunter’s room.
‘He had no mark,’ Hunter spoke first.