The Crucifix Killer - Chris Carter [14]
‘Your car? Where is it?’
‘Oh! In Santa Monica.’
‘Santa Monica! Damn that’s all the way across town.’
‘Do you have anything else to do?’
‘Not anymore,’ Garcia replied with a foolish look. ‘Where exactly did you leave it?’
‘Do you know the Hideout bar?’
‘Yeah, I know it. What the hell were you doing there?’
‘I don’t even remember,’ Hunter replied with a slight shake of the head.
‘It’s gonna take us around two hours to make it to Santa Monica from here. At least we’ll have plenty of time to talk.’
‘Two hours?’ Hunter sounded surprised. ‘What do you have under that hood? A scooter engine?’
‘Did you notice the bumpy roads all around this place? This is a new car. I ain’t screwing my suspension up, so until we clear the lunar surface-like roads, we’ll be going real slow.’
‘Whatever.’ Hunter got into the car and buckled up. He looked around at an obsessive compulsive cleaner’s paradise. The car’s interior was spotless. No potato chip bags on the floor, no coffee spills on the carpet or seats, no donut smudges, nothing.
‘Damn rookie, do you clean this car every day?’
‘I like my car clean, it’s better than a pigsty of a car, don’t you think?’ Garcia sounded proud.
‘And what the hell is this smell? It’s like . . . tutti frutti.’
‘It’s called air freshener. You should try one inside that old beater of yours.’
‘Hey, there’s nothing wrong with my car. Old yes, but built like a fortress. Not like these cheap imports.’
‘This car wasn’t cheap.’
‘Yeah right,’ Hunter replied with a short laugh. ‘Anyway, I’m impressed. Do you clean houses as well? There is a big market out there in Beverly Hills if you ever decide to pack up the detective’s job.’
Garcia ignored Hunter’s comment, started the engine and maneuvered through the few police units that were still parked in front of the old house. He tried his best to avoid brushing his car against the dense shrubs bordering the narrow path and cursed when he heard the sound of wood scraping against metal. Garcia drove slowly at first, trying to minimize the bumpy ride. They were both silent until they reached the main road.
Hunter had driven along Little Tujunga Canyon Road many times. If you are looking to unwind it’s an astonishing drive with heart-warming views.
‘OK, I’m all ears,’ Garcia broke the silence. ‘Enough with the bullshit. What the hell does that weird carving on the back of the victim’s neck mean? You’ve obviously seen it before, judging by your reaction.’
Hunter searched for the correct words as old images came into his mind. He was about to bring Garcia into a nightmare – one he was trying to forget.
‘Have you ever heard of the Crucifix Killer?’
Garcia cocked an eyebrow and looked inquisitively at Hunter. ‘Are you joking?’
Hunter shook his head.
‘Yeah, of course I have. Everyone in LA has heard of the Crucifix Killer. Damn, everyone in the entire USA has heard of the Crucifix Killer. I actually followed the case as closely as I could. Why?’
‘What do you know about him? What do you know about the case?’
‘Are you trying to brag now?’ he asked with an uncomfortable smile as if waiting for the obvious answer – he got none. ‘Are you serious? You want me to talk to you about the case?’
‘Humor me.’
‘OK,’ Garcia replied with a whatever head movement. ‘It was probably your biggest case. Seven horrific homicides over a two-year period. Some crazy, religious fanatic. You and your ex-partner caught the guy about a year and a half ago. He was picked up driving out of LA. If I’m not mistaken, he had a shitload of evidence inside the car with him, victim’s belongings and stuff like that. Apparently even his interrogation didn’t take that long; he confessed straight away, didn’t he?’
‘How do you know about his interrogation?’
‘I’m still a cop remember? We get some good inside information. Anyway, he got the death penalty and the lethal shot about a year ago, one of the quickest executed sentences in history. Even the president got involved right? It was all over the news.’
Hunter studied his partner for a moment. Garcia knew