by Carter Chris
‘Her name is Silvia Hinton from Garland in Texas. Twenty-six years old. Her parents flew in to stay with her. Not surprisingly, she’s still in shock, so we haven’t had a chance to get a full statement from her.’
‘Do we know when she was abducted?’
‘Five days ago,’ Hunter confirmed. ‘Miss Hinton is a nurse at the Children’s Hospital in Sunset Boulevard. Apparently she was taken as she got into her car after finishing an evening shift.’
‘And how is she doing?’
‘Healthwise, she’s OK – a little malnourished, but OK. Psychologically? She’ll definitely be traumatized. How much? Only time will tell.’
‘How about Angela Wood?’
‘She’s a little shook up,’ Hunter confirmed. ‘But she’s fine. She’s being discharged from hospital this morning. After I leave here, I’m picking her up and giving her a ride back to her place.’
‘Also,’ Garcia added. ‘Clay Heath’s body was discovered inside sublevel one of the “under refurbishment” multi-story car park, just across the road from the Westin Bonaventure Hotel. Work had been interrupted a couple of weeks ago – something to do with the budget – that’s why the body was only found last night by a group of teenagers.’
‘So the killer sliced the poor kid’s throat,’ the captain said. ‘And then calmly crossed the road into the hotel to wait for Robert and the diary.’
‘Precisely,’ Garcia agreed.
Captain Blake finished her coffee and got to her feet. The look on her face was concerned.
‘That chat room we saw on the Dark Web?’ she asked. ‘The “voices”, can we track those people down? Get the FBI or Interpol after them?’
‘No, we can’t,’ Hunter replied. ‘That’s the appeal of the Dark Web, Captain. It’s untraceable. They can buy or sell whatever they like in there, safe in the knowledge that they will never be identified.’
Captain Blake paused by her office window and stared at the sky outside for an instant – her stare distant and lost.
‘It’s a sad and very dark world we live in,’ Garcia commented, ‘when people can not only sell those things over the Internet, but there are hundreds . . . thousands of people out there willing to buy them and there’s nothing we can do about it. It pisses me off.’
‘We can’t save the whole world, Carlos,’ Hunter said. ‘We can’t save everybody. You know that. All we can do is keep doing what we’re doing – giving our best to the job, saving the ones we can save, protecting the ones we can protect . . . putting the people we catch behind bars.’
‘Robert is right, Carlos,’ Captain Blake said, turning to face her detectives. ‘All you can do is keep on doing what you’re doing – giving your best to the job, and I couldn’t ask any more of you two. So shake that goddamn frown off your faces, go have a couple of donuts and a glass of milk, and go do what you do best.’
‘You mean – look this good all day long?’ Garcia asked.
‘Get out,’ the captain demanded, pointing at her door.
Ninety-Nine
Sunday, December 14th.
While Garcia went back to their office, Hunter took a drive down to the Good Samaritan Hospital on Wilshire Boulevard. Angela Wood was waiting for him at the reception, together with a nurse.
‘How are you feeling?’ Hunter asked, after he signed the release papers. He had used his health insurance to cover her hospital stay.
‘I’m fine,’ Angela replied, as they made their way to his car. ‘I’m just glad to be out of here. Hospital food is a joke.’
‘Do you want to go grab something to eat?’ Hunter asked.
‘No, I’m OK. Thank you.’ She paused as Hunter unlocked the passenger door to his Buick. ‘Look, you don’t have to drive me to my place. I can walk or get the bus. I would’ve left hours ago, but they won’t discharge you if you don’t have someone to come pick you up.’
‘Just get in, will you?’
Reluctantly, Angela got into the passenger seat. ‘You really need to think about getting a new car. This . . . thing, is falling to pieces . . . and it smells in here.’
‘No, it doesn’t,’ Hunter countered, looking a little offended. ‘Smells like what?’
‘Old,’ Angela replied. ‘It smells like old.’
Hunter said nothing back, but he winced as he veered left.
‘How’s the rib?’ Angela asked in a tone a lot more gentle than usual.
‘Black and blue,’ Hunter replied. ‘And it hurts like hell, but I’ll live. They’ve patched me up nicely.’
‘I am really sorry about that,’ Angela sounded sincere. ‘The tackle was not meant for you.’
‘I know that.’
‘Why didn’t you call out my name before opening the door? I really thought that that door would open and it would be “goodbye Angie”.’
‘Yeah, I should have,’ Hunter admitted.
‘Yes, you should.’
‘Anyway,’ Hunter said with a smile. ‘It was a damn good tackle.’
Angela smiled back. ‘Just so you know,’ she said, as Hunter turned right on West 6th Street. ‘I’m quitting the game. I’m quitting being a pickpocket.’
‘Really?’ Hunter looked pleased, but not surprised.
‘Yeah. I promised myself that if I ever made it out of that stinking hellhole, I would quit. I stick to my promises.’
‘That’s fantastic,’ Hunter said with a smile. ‘Do you have a plan? Do you know what you would like to do?’
‘Not yet, but I will.’
Hunter reached into his pocket and retrieved a small piece of paper. ‘Here.’ He handed it to Angela.
‘What’s this?’ she asked, as she unfolded the note. It contained a name and a phone number. ‘Who’s Richard Cole?’
‘He’s a friend of mine, who happens to be the Los Angeles head of security for the Bloomingdale’s group. I told him about you and he would love if you could give him a call so he can set up an interview with you.’
‘An interview? An interview for what?’
‘For a job.’
Angela looked at Hunter, a little confused.
‘The way they see it,’ he explained, ‘it’s much better to have someone with your skills on their side instead of against them. I’m sure that you could teach them a few things, like what and who to look out for.’
Angela’s stare stayed on Hunter, but the look in her eyes softened a little.
‘It’s a good job and the pay isn’t bad at all,’ Hunter added. ‘I’m sure you’ll be great at it. Give him a call. He’s a really nice guy too.’
Angela placed the note in her pocket and sat quietly for the next ten minutes.
‘Can I ask you something?’ she finally said.
‘Sure.’
‘Why are you being so nice to me?’
Hunter blinked and looked back at Angela, as if trying to figure her out.
‘What I mean is . . . I know I’ve been a bitch to you. I know that because I’m a bitch to everyone. I don’t trust people, so being a bitch is kind of my defense mechanism. But this time being a bitch has cost two agents their lives, and I’m so, so sorry about that.’ Angela’s eyes welled up and her voice faltered. ‘I was stupid, I was selfish . . . I was much more than just a bitch . . . and now they’re dead.’ Tears began streaming down her face. ‘I’ll never forgive myself for that for as long as I live. I am so sorry.’
The deep remorse in Angela’s voice filled Hunter’s car with emotion.
‘I’m not a bad person,’ she continued, as she wiped away the tears. ‘At least I didn’t used to be. Please believe that.’
‘I do,’ Hunter said in return.
‘I want to go back to the person I used to be. I want to start again. I don’t want to be this way anymore.’
‘That’s great,’ Hunter agreed. ‘And a new, legit job can be the new beginning you’re looking for. Give Richard a call.’
Angela tried to catch Hunter’s eyes, but he kept them securely on the road.
> ‘You didn’t answer my question,’ she pushed. ‘Why are you being so nice to me?’
‘Because I know a lot of people like you, Angela,’ Hunter finally replied. ‘I was once like you, and all of us, no matter how tough or strong we think we are . . . we all make mistakes, and we all need a little help every once in a while, because none of us can be tough and strong one hundred percent of the time. I know it, because I’ve tried it before and I’ve failed.’
Tears came back to Angela’s eyes.
‘I’m not really doing anything out of the ordinary here,’ Hunter said in a tender voice. ‘I’m just trying to help a friend get back on her feet, that’s all. I’m just being human.’
Angela paused. ‘You’re a much nicer human than most of the ones I’ve met. Trust me on that.’
They went quiet again for another minute.
‘Do you really mean what you said just now?’ Angela asked, as she dried her tears once again.
‘About the job?’ Hunter replied. ‘Of course I—’
‘No, not about the job,’ Angela interrupted Hunter. ‘About helping a friend. Do you consider me a friend?’
This time it was Hunter who sought Angela’s eyes. ‘I do. I was hoping that maybe you would feel the same.’
Angela smiled a shy smile.
‘I’d like that. I’d like that very much.’
Hunter pulled up in front of Angela’s apartment building and turned off the engine. ‘So, will you give Richard a call?’
‘I think I might. Yes.’
‘Great. By the way, your door has been fixed.’ Hunter handed Angela the keys to the new lock.
‘About time.’ She took the keys, paused, then quickly leaned over and gave Hunter a kiss on the cheek. ‘Thank you . . . for everything.’
Hunter smiled and watched Angela run into her building’s entry lobby and up the stairs.
He turned the ignition key, and his engine misfired.
He tried again.
Nothing.
One more time.
Nothing.
‘Goddamn it.’ He sat back in his seat. ‘Maybe I should really get a new car.’
Acknowledgements
Unfortunately, during the process of writing this novel, I suffered a loss that shattered my universe, bringing with it the sort of personal darkness I hoped I would never have to face again. If not for the amazing help and companionship of some of the most special people I’ve ever met, this novel would’ve never been finished, and I probably wouldn’t be here anymore.
Helen Mulder, Jair and Lisa Pelegrina, Uwe Lippold, Andru and Tracy Kalker, Lynne Marie Campbell.
From the bottom of my heart, I thank you all. You guys have saved my life and you mean a lot more to me than you’ll ever know.
Thank you for being there for me.
On a professional level, my heartfelt thanks goes to a few special people – my agent, Darley Anderson, for being the best agent an author could have. Darley’s Angels – Mary Darby, Kristina Egan, Georgia Fuller and the whole team at the agency, for simply being amazing. My new editors at Simon & Schuster – Anne Perry and Bethan Jones – who have worked tirelessly to fix all the problems in this book.
Thank you also to all the readers and everyone out there who have so fantastically supported me and my novels from the start. Without your support, I wouldn’t be writing.
More from the Author
Hunting Evil
Gallery of the Dead
The Caller
I Am Death
An Evil Mind
One by One
FIND OUT MORE ABOUT
CHRIS CARTER
Chris Carter writes highly addictive thrillers featuring Detective Robert Hunter
To find out more about Chris and his writing, visit his website at
www.chriscarterbooks.com
or follow Chris on
@ChrisCarterBooksOfficial
All of Chris Carter’s novels are available in print and eBook, and are available to download in eAudio
HAVE YOU READ THEM ALL?
Discover the entire Robert Hunter series . . .
‘Carter is now in the Jeffery Deaver class’
Daily Mail
THE CRUCIFIX KILLER
A body is found with a strange double cross carved into the neck: the signature of a psychopath known as the Crucifix Killer. But Detective Robert Hunter knows that’s impossible. Because two years ago the Crucifix Killer was caught. Wasn’t he?
THE EXECUTIONER
Inside a Los Angeles church lies the blood-soaked body of a priest, the figure 3 scrawled in blood on his chest. At first, Robert Hunter believes that this is a ritualistic killing. But as more bodies surface, he is forced to reassess.
THE NIGHT STALKER
When an unidentified victim is discovered on a slab in an abandoned butcher’s shop, the cause of death is unclear. Her body bears no marks; but her lips have been carefully stitched shut. It is only when the full autopsy gets underway that Robert Hunter discovers the true horror.
THE DEATH SCULPTOR
A student nurse has the shock of her life when she discovers her patient, prosecutor Derek Nicholson, brutally murdered in his bed. But what shocks Detective Robert Hunter the most is the calling card the killer left behind.
ONE BY ONE
Detective Robert Hunter receives an anonymous call asking him to go to a specific web address – a private broadcast. Hunter logs on and a horrific show devised for his eyes only immediately begins.
AN EVIL MIND
A freak accident leads to the arrest of a man, but further investigations suggest a much more horrifying discovery – a serial killer who has been kidnapping, torturing and mutilating victims all over the United States for at least twenty-five years. And he will now only speak to Robert Hunter.
I AM DEATH
Seven days after being abducted, the body of a twenty-year-old woman is found. Detective Robert Hunter is assigned the case and almost immediately a second body turns up. Hunter knows he has to be quick, for he is chasing a monster.
THE CALLER
Be careful before answering your next call. It could be the beginning of a nightmare, as Robert Hunter discovers as he chases a killer who stalks victims on social media.
GALLERY OF THE DEAD
Robert Hunter arrives at one of the most shocking crime scenes he has ever attended. Soon, he joins forces with the FBI to track down a serial killer who sees murder as more than just killing – it’s an art form.
HUNTING EVIL
Lucien Folter, the most dangerous serial killer the FBI has ever known, has just escaped. Now, he’s hunting for Detective Robert Hunter – and he’s going to make him pay . . .
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First published in Great Britain by Simon & Schuster UK Ltd, 2020
Copyright © Chris Carter, 2020
The right of Chris Carter to be identified as author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
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A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
Hardback ISBN: 978-1-4711-7957-0
Trade Paperback ISBN: 978-1-4711-7958-7
eBook ISBN: 978-1-4711-7959-4
Audio IS
BN: 978-1-4711-8975-3
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Typeset in Sabon by M Rules
Printed and bound by CPI Group (UK) Ltd, Croydon, CR0 4YY
