‘So she really didn’t put up a fight?’ Garcia asked.

‘Not even a tiny one,’ the doctor confirmed. ‘Do you know how the killer gained access to the property?’

‘Not yet,’ Garcia replied. ‘There were no signs of forced entry anywhere, but we have reason to believe that he has possibly been in her house before.’

‘So you think that he was known to her?’

A small shrug from Garcia. ‘We’re looking into it, Doc.’

Dr. Hove nodded before facing Hunter. ‘I’ve put in an urgent request with the toxicology lab, so hopefully we’ll have confirmation by tomorrow, but your report says that according to the witness statement, the killer told him that he had injected the victim with something that would numb most of her body, but it would not do the same to her brain or her nervous system.’

‘Yes, that’s correct,’ Hunter confirmed.

Dr. Hove breathed out. ‘OK, so here is where the evil starts.’ She called their attention to the right side of Cassandra’s neck.

Both detectives bent forward to have a better look at it. Now that her head, face and neck had been cleaned from all the blood, Hunter and Garcia were able to clearly notice a tiny needle-prick to her skin, just under her ear.

‘In order for the killer to achieve that desired effect,’ the doctor explained, ‘he would’ve had to use a neuromuscular blocking agent and dose it absolutely perfectly, or else it would’ve also paralyzed the muscles needed for respiration and been lethal to her in minutes.’

Garcia flipped a page on the report. ‘And how easy would it be to obtain something like that, Doc?’

Dr. Hove made a ‘Who knows?’ face. ‘Go back fifteen years, maybe a little less, and any neuromuscular blocking agent would be pretty hard to come by, unless you were in a medical profession or had some very good contacts. Today? With the Internet and the thousands of illegal online drugstores? People can get it delivered to their door – gift-wrapped. No questions asked. No real record of purchase anywhere either.’

‘Great,’ Garcia said, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

‘I’m sure that both of you must’ve had a pretty good idea back at the crime scene,’ Dr. Hove continued, ‘but I can confirm that, just like the first victim, this one wasn’t sexually assaulted either, which solidifies the case for a non-sexual motive. Whatever this is about, it isn’t about sexual pleasure.’

Following her accounts, both detectives flipped another page on the report.

‘But whoever this killer is,’ the doctor added, ‘he’s very skillful, and he’s got at least some basic knowledge of neuroanatomy and trauma.’

‘Neuroanatomy?’ Garcia asked.

‘Let me explain.’ She stepped left and this time directed their attention to the victim’s head wounds. ‘As I’ve said before, there are no other injuries to her body, with the exception of the three perforations to her scalp.’

Hunter and Garcia repositioned themselves by Dr. Hove’s side. With Cassandra’s head now completely shaved, even with the rubbery-like skin and its discoloration, three very small punctures to her scalp were clearly noticeable. None of them looked to be any larger than three millimeters in diameter.

‘These perforations to her scalp caused a very particular type of fracture to her skull,’ the doctor proceeded.

‘Pyramid splinters,’ Hunter said, studying the three small holes on Cassandra’s head.

‘Exactly,’ the doctor confirmed.

‘Pyramid what?’ Garcia looked at his partner.

‘Dr. Hove can explain them better,’ Hunter said.

Garcia turned and face her.

‘It’s all in the report,’ she said. ‘But I’ll give you the quick version.’

‘That works,’ Garcia replied.

‘OK,’ she began. ‘Every human bone has a certain elasticity to it. The skull is no different. So, with a forceful traumatic impact, the skull bone depresses in the shape of the striking instrument.’ She brought her hands together, fingertips against fingertips, and slowly moved them downwards to simulate a bending effect. ‘With that, two things happen. One: You get parallel break lines on the surface of the bone; these are called terraced fractures. Two: On the interior of the bone, you get a deep depression fracture. In other words, a dent. It can happen to any bone, but when it happens on the inside of the skull, this dent causes a fracture called a pyramid splinter. As the name suggests, this is simply a pyramid of splinters, moving from top to bottom. The top splinter moves down, creating another splinter, which in turn moves down, creating yet another one, and so on. Are you still with me?’

Garcia nodded.

‘So, if the impact is forceful enough, these splinters will keep on projecting downward through the interior lining of the skull until they propel themselves deep into the brain tissue, like a bullet, causing instant termination of brain function and death.’

Garcia grinded his teeth as if he could feel the pain.

‘That’s what happened with the third and last puncture we have here.’ She indicated the wound right at the center of Cassandra’s skull. ‘The splinter fracture from this particular wound ripped through the precentral gyrus and the central sulcus of her brain, ending its trajectory at the postcentral gyrus.’ The doctor drew in a deep breath before locking eyes with both detectives. ‘She never had a chance.’

‘How about the other two wounds?’ Garcia asked.

Hunter looked down at the floor with sad eyes, as if he already knew the answer.

‘They both were forceful enough to also produce splinter fractures,’ Dr. Hove confirmed. ‘And though they did reach her brain, they didn’t travel deep enough to cause instant death.’ The tone in which Dr. Hove’s next few words were delivered practically froze the air. ‘But if she had lived, they would’ve produced irreversible brain damage.’ She went quiet for a few seconds while her eyes rested on Cassandra’s alien-looking face. ‘Though it took three fractures for her to perish, her life as she knew it was over from the very first hit.’

Sixty

As soon as they got back to their office, Garcia went straight to his desk and fired up his computer. Something had begun nagging at his brain halfway through Dr. Hove’s postmortem explanation. Something he desperately wanted to crosscheck.

Hunter left his partner to it, stepped outside, and placed a call to Cassandra Jenkinson’s husband. The phone rang only once before Mr. J answered it.

‘Hello!’

From his exhausted and full-of-gravel sounding voice, Hunter knew that he hadn’t slept a single second.

‘Mr. Jenkinson, this is Detective Robert Hunter with LAPD Homicide. We met at your house?’

Mr. J remained silent. At his request, Brian Caldron had already compiled a very comprehensive dossier on Detective Hunter. A dossier he had just finished reading, and he couldn’t deny that he was impressed.

Robert Hunter grew up as an only child to working-class parents in Compton, an underprivileged neighborhood of South Los Angeles. His mother lost her battle with cancer when he was only seven. His father never remarried and had to take on two jobs to cope with the demands of bringing up a child on his own. A child who turned out to be a prodigy.

From a very early age it was obvious to everyone that Hunter was different. He could figure things out faster than most. School bored and frustrated him. He finished all of his sixth-grade work in less than two months and, just for something to do, sped through seventh, eighth and even ninth-grade books. After being put through a battery of tests and exams, Hunter was transferred to a special school for gifted children, but even a special school’s curriculum wasn’t enough to slow his progress. Four years of high school were condensed into two and, with recommendations from all of his teachers, Hunter was accepted as a ‘special circumstances’ student at Stanford University. By the age of nineteen, he had already graduated in psychology – summa cum laude. At the age of twenty-three, he had received a Ph.D. in Criminal Behavior Analyses and Biopsychology. His thesis paper – titled An Advanced Psychological Study In Criminal Conduct – had become mandatory reading at the FBI’s National Center for the Analyses of Violent Crime (NCAVC) and it still was to this day.