The Crucifix Killer - Chris Carter [87]
‘Yes, our tail followed one of them home after the club last night,’ Garcia said, pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket.
‘Great, we can drop in on her right after Peterson. Let’s go, you drive.’
Malibu is a twenty-seven-mile strip of spectacular coastline northwest of Los Angeles. It’s a retreat for people like Barbra Streisand, Tom Hanks, Dustin Hoffman, Pierce Brosnan and scores of other rich and famous Hollywood stars.
Most of the long drive to Peterson’s house was made in silence. Hunter’s thoughts were divided between the amazing night he’d had with Isabella and the astonishing breakthrough she might’ve brought into the investigation. Had she really stood face to face with the killer? If so, was he wearing no disguise? Had she scared him off by noticing the tattoos on his wrists? Hunter knew this killer never left anything to chance, but there was a minute possibility that his meeting with Isabella had been accidental. Hunter felt his luck was changing.
‘This is his road,’ Garcia said as he turned into Via Linda Street.
‘Number four, that’s his house right over there,’ Hunter said, pointing to a pale-blue-fronted house with three cars parked on the driveway, one of them a brand-new-looking Chevy Explorer van.
By Malibu standards Peterson’s house wasn’t anything spectacular, but by Hunter and Garcia’s standards it was simply huge. The house itself was a three-story modern development and the generous lawn in front of it had been mowed to perfection. A curved cobblestone walkway led from the street to the enormous front door, its landing decorated by beautifully arranged flowers producing a riot of color. Whoever took care of this house was a perfectionist.
Hunter loved the element of surprise. Forewarning gave people the chance to prepare their lies, get them organized in their heads. If he could get away with it, he preferred not to make interview appointments, just show up. A homicide cop with a bag full of questions tended to make the regular citizen nervous.
On the front door they found a brass lion’s head with a knocker coming out of its mouth.
‘Eccentric,’ Garcia commented and knocked three times. ‘I bet they have a swimming pool in their backyard.’
‘This is Malibu, rookie, all the houses around here come with a swimming pool, whether you want it or not.’
A few seconds later the door opened to reveal a fair-haired, brown-eyed little girl no older than ten. Not who they were expecting.
‘Hi there, is your daddy home?’ Garcia said with a broad smile and bending over to draw level with the little girl.
She took a step back and studied the two men in front of her for a short moment. ‘May I ask who I should announce?’
Garcia was taken aback by the little girl’s eloquence. ‘Of course you may,’ he replied trying to match her pompousness. ‘I’m Detective Garcia and this is Detective Hunter,’ he said, pointing to Hunter.
‘May I see some identification please?’ she asked with a skeptical look.
Garcia couldn’t help laughing. ‘Sure.’ Both detectives produced their badges and watched in amusement as the little girl checked their credentials.
‘Is there some sort of problem, detective?’
‘No. But we do need to speak to your daddy if you don’t mind.’
‘I’m not to call my father “daddy.” “Daddy” is for little kids. Please wait here,’ she said dryly and closed the door on them.
‘What just happened?’ Garcia asked turning to face Hunter who shrugged. ‘She’s what? Around ten years old? Can you imagine what she’ll be like when she’s fifty?’
‘It’s not her fault,’ Hunter said with a head tilt. ‘Her parents probably force her to behave like an older child, not allowing her to come out and play, not allowing her to have many friends, pushing her to become an exemplary student. Without knowing they are doing more harm than good.’
They heard heavier footsteps approaching. An adult finally. The door opened and this time the same tall, skinny man they’d talked to at Tale & Josh stood in front of them.
‘Mr Peterson, we talked