The Crucifix Killer - Chris Carter [7]
Three police officers stood to the left of the house discussing last night’s football game, all three holding steaming cups of coffee.
‘Where can I get one of those?’ Hunter asked pointing to the coffee cups.
‘I’ll get you one,’ Garcia replied. ‘The captain’s in the last room on the left, through the corridor. I’ll see you in there.’
‘Working hard, guys?’ Hunter shouted to the three officers who glanced at him indifferently before carrying on discussing the game.
Inside the house a peculiar smell hung in the air, a mix of rotten wood and raw sewage. There was nothing to see in the first room. Hunter turned on his flashlight and moved through the door at the far end into a long and narrow corridor that led to four other rooms, two on each side. A young police officer was standing outside the last door on the left. As Hunter made his way down the corridor, he quickly peeked inside each room he passed. Nothing except for spider webs and old debris. The creaking floorboards gave the house an even more sinister feel. As Hunter approached the last door and the officer standing guard he felt an uncomfortable chill. The chill that comes with every murder scene. The chill of death.
Hunter produced his badge and the officer stepped to one side.
‘Go right ahead, detective!’
On a table just outside the door Hunter found the customary overalls together with blue plastic shoes and head covers. Next to them a box of latex gloves. Hunter got himself ready and opened the door to face his new nightmare.
The shocking image that met his eyes as he stepped into the room sucked all the air out of his lungs.
‘Jesus Christ.’ His voice was just a weak whisper.
Five
Hunter stood at the door of a large double room illuminated only by two moving flashlights – Captain Bolter and Doctor Winston. Surprisingly the room was in much better condition than the rest of the house. A giant pit welled in his stomach as he stared at the image before him.
Directly in front of the bedroom door and about three feet from the back wall, the naked body of a woman hung from two parallel wooden posts. Her arms spread as wide as they’d go, her knees bent as they touched the floor placing her in a kneeling Y position. The rope restraining her wrists against the top of the poles had cut deep into her flesh and dark lines of dried blood now decorated her thin arms. Hunter stared at the dead woman’s face. His mind struggling to understand what his eyes were seeing.
‘Sweet God in heaven!’
An incessant swarm of flies were swirling around her body creating a relentless buzzing sound, but they left her face alone. Her skinless face. A shapeless mass of muscle tissue.
‘Hunter! You finally decided to show up.’ Captain Bolter was standing across the room next to Doctor Winston, the Chief Medical Examiner.
Hunter stared at the woman for a few more seconds before diverting his attention to the captain. ‘Somebody skinned her?’ he questioned from the doorway, his voice carrying a tone of disbelief.
‘Alive . . . someone skinned her alive,’ Doctor Winston’s calm voice corrected Hunter. ‘She died hours after her skin had been ripped off her face.’
‘You’ve gotta be kidding me!’ Hunter studied the faceless woman. The absence of skin made her eyes puff out of their sockets and they seemed to be staring straight at him. Her mouth hung open. No teeth.
Hunter guessed her age to be no older than twenty-five. Her legs, stomach and arms had defined muscle tone and it was clear she’d taken pride in her appearance. Her hair was golden blond, long and smooth, falling halfway down her back. Hunter was sure she’d been a very attractive woman.
‘There is more. Have a look behind the door,’ Doctor Winston said.
Hunter stepped into the room, closed the door and stared at it confused for a couple of seconds.
‘A full-length mirror?’ he said quizzically staring at his reflection. Suddenly he stepped out of the way and the woman’s body came in full view on the mirror.
‘God! The