‘So where are the others?’

Garcia shrugged. ‘We don’t know; chances are, she threw them away.’

A moment of surprised silence.

‘Why would she do that?’

‘Because they scared her, Captain,’ Hunter responded. ‘Why would she keep something that scared her in her house? Most people wouldn’t.’

‘Because they constituted physical proof, Robert, and they could’ve carried forensic evidence. Didn’t she take them to TMU? Register a complaint? Start a process?’

‘I understand, but according to her best friend, that’s not how she saw it,’ Hunter clarified. ‘What she believed was that because the notes were completely anonymous, the police wouldn’t be able to do much for her. She was afraid that they would just ask her some routine questions and push her case to the back of the queue. She was scared. She wasn’t sleeping well and all she wanted was for the notes to stop. The solution she came up with was to move.’

Captain Blake chewed on that thought for a moment. ‘OK, so why do you think she kept this particular one?’ She nodded at the note on Garcia’s desk.

‘That is the problem, Captain,’ Hunter said. ‘We don’t think she did.’

It took the captain just a second to pick up on what Hunter was suggesting. ‘She never actually found it.’

‘That’s what we think,’ Garcia agreed. ‘Which, to be honest, isn’t that surprising.’

Captain Blake injected a little inquisition into the look she gave him.

‘I’m telling you, Captain,’ he said in reply, ‘there were over sixty pairs of shoes on that rack. If she was anything like Anna, it doesn’t matter how many pairs of shoes she had, she’d mainly stick to wearing three, maybe four pairs. The comfortable ones. The rest are just the consequence of some innate female obsession with shoes. It doesn’t matter that they’ll only wear them once, if that. They just have to have them.’

Captain Blake couldn’t argue with Garcia’s logic. Despite owning a staggering number of pairs of shoes herself, she did mainly stick to a handful of them. The rest she would wear sporadically, maybe once or twice a year, depending on the occasion. She took a step back from Garcia’s desk, while mulling over a couple of thoughts.

‘So do you think this means that the perp wasn’t that familiar with the victim after all?’ she asked both detectives.

‘Because he placed the note inside a shoe which she didn’t wear very often? It could,’ Hunter agreed with a nod, then followed it with a sideways head-tilt. ‘But not necessarily.’

‘What do you mean, Robert? A stalker would’ve noticed her shoes. He would’ve noticed her earrings, her handbag, her lipstick . . . everything about her. Isn’t stalking the product of an unwanted and obsessive attention from one person to another?’

Hunter nodded once.

‘So if he was obsessed with her, he would’ve noticed her shoes. He would’ve known which ones she wore more often.’

Hunter agreed again, then explained. ‘The problem we have is that people driven by uncontrollable obsessions can very easily become delusional, Captain, and stalkers are very high on that list. They desperately want to be part of their “victims’ ” world.’ He used his fingers to draw quotation marks in the air because he knew that most stalkers didn’t see the source of their obsession as victims. ‘To achieve that, many will break into their victims’ homes while they are gone and sleep in their beds, eat their food, watch their TVs, wear their clothes, their shoes, anything, just to make them feel like they belong. Like they have a connection. Some, and Karen Ward’s stalker seems to fall into this category, like to push the boundaries and leave little clues behind so their victims would know that they’d been in their home. Sometimes those clues come in the shape of notes.’ Hunter once again indicated the note on Garcia’s desk. ‘But it could be something a lot more subtle. Something that would fill the victim’s head with doubts, like an object out of place, a door left ajar, or a light left on.’

Captain Blake considered the scenario. Nothing would scare a single woman living alone more than knowing that someone had been in her house, because if he got in when she was out, he could get in when she was in, or even worse – he could still be in there.

‘So the reason why they would leave any of these sort of clues behind,’ she said, ‘is scaremongering – to simply bring fear to the victim.’

‘For some of them, yes,’ Hunter agreed. ‘But not all, and here’s where the delusional part kicks in. It’s called erotomania, a fairly common trait in stalkers. It’s a type of delusion where they believe that the object of their affection, usually a total stranger or somebody famous, is in love with them.’

‘Well, this is the perfect city for that, isn’t it?’ Captain Blake commented.

‘So,’ Hunter continued, ‘breaking into their victim’s home, sleeping in their bed, using their toothbrush, or whatever it is that they do while they’re in there, makes them believe that they are indeed part of their victim’s world. It makes them believe that they belong. In their fantasy the hiding of notes is nothing more than a fun game that two people in love would play.’ Hunter paused, giving Captain Blake a moment to absorb his words.

‘Because if he believes that she’s in love with him,’ she said in conclusion, ‘then he’d also believe that she enjoys playing the game just as much as he does.’

‘Exactly.’

‘So you’re saying that he could’ve placed the note inside a shoe she didn’t wear very often on purpose, just to make the Easter egg hunt a little more fun.’

‘It’s possible,’ Hunter admitted.

Captain Blake walked back to the center of the room; as she did, she noticed the look on Hunter’s face. A concerned look that she’d seen many times before. ‘OK, what is it, Robert?’

Hunter looked back at her and his eyebrows arched.

‘C’mon, don’t give me that “what are you talking about?” look. Something is clearly bothering you. What is it?’

‘Everything about this case bothers me, Captain.’

‘Well, it bothers me too, but I know you well enough to see that there’s something that’s already frying your egg, so what is it?’

Hunter walked over to the coffee machine and poured himself a large cup. ‘Coffee?’ he offered.

Captain Blake declined with a hand signal.

‘This stalker business,’ he finally said. ‘The way I see it, it blows hot and cold.’

‘How so?’

Hunter returned to his desk but didn’t take a seat, instead he leaned against its edge. ‘His actions. From the little we have so far, some of them are very consistent with the behavior pattern of a stalker, but some don’t come even close.’

‘Could you clarify, please?’ the captain asked.

Hunter sipped his coffee. ‘As we’ve just discussed, breaking into the victim’s house when she wasn’t there, leaving clues or notes behind, even murder as a consequence, all of that can easily be associated with stalking. The fact that all of the killer’s rage was directed exclusively towards Karen Ward’s face – its injuries, its complete disfiguration – indicates a fixation with the way she looked, which again is very consistent with the behavior of someone who was obsessed with her beauty. Someone who could very easily become delusional. But the phone call to Tanya Kaitlin, the question game he made her play, the way he forced her to watch her best friend being murdered, and the brutality and the self-indulgence of the whole act, all of that falls way beyond the realm of stalking, Captain.’

Captain Blake’s eyes narrowed as she clearly began pondering something else.

‘Let me ask you something,’ she said. Her gaze slowly moved from Garcia to Hunter. ‘Do you think he was bluffing? If Tanya Kaitlin had answered both questions correctly, do you think that he would’ve allowed Karen Ward to live?’

Silence ruled the room for several seconds, and as Hunter considered the captain’s question, something new suddenly fired inside his head and he paused. His eyes moved down to the floor while he tried to organize his thoughts.