‘It’s more than a hun . . .’

‘No, it isn’t, rookie,’ the captain cut him short, his voice firm and authoritative. ‘Don’t even think about giving me that crap. If you’ve got absolutely no proof, it’s called a hunch. Do you have anything to substantiate your allegation?’

‘Not yet, but . . .’

‘Then it’s a hunch . . . on your first case. Just thinking about it is making my balls itch.’

‘Proof is coming, Captain,’ Hunter hit back, his voice just as firm. ‘If you give me an hour, maybe two, I’ll find proof.’

Hunter heard the captain breathe out heavily on the other side.

‘I read your whole file again, rookie,’ Captain Bolter said. ‘And I can already tell that you’re going to be trouble, aren’t you?’ He didn’t give Hunter a chance to reply. ‘With your, and I quote from the transcripts on your file, off the scale IQ and outstanding reasoning test results, you are going to want to prove yourself in every single damn case you are assigned to, aren’t you?’

‘I’m just trying to do my job, Captain.’

‘Oh, is that a fact? Well, let me let you in on a little secret that I want you to remember for the rest of your life, rookie. Are you listening?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Not every case is a goddamn, seven-headed monster mystery, you understand what I’m saying? The majority of criminals out there are thick as shit. Nine out of ten murders in this city are committed by someone who was too angry, too jealous, too drunk, too high, too desperate, too crazy, or a combination of the above. They aren’t criminal masterminds.’

Hunter was waiting for a pause so he could say something. It didn’t come. The captain simply steam-rolled on.

‘You already got the job, rookie. You don’t have to prove yourself to anyone anymore. I’ve checked, you are the youngest ever person to make RHD Detective in the history of the LAPD. Congratu-fucking-lations. That fact alone will already earn you the “pretentious little dick” look from every detective in this department. If you start trying to rub it in with that IQ crap and the Criminal Behavior Psychology bullshit in every case, including the simple suicide ones, I can assure you, you are not going to be a very popular guy around here, do you understand what I’m saying to you?’

‘I’m not trying to impress anyone, captain.’ Hunter was finally able to get a word in. ‘I’m not trying to prove myself to anybody either, but the scene here is all wrong. Nothing fits with a suicide motive. Trust me on this.’

‘Except for the fact that the only door that leads in or out of the apartment was locked from the inside, with a security chain firmly in place.’

Hunter said nothing.

‘We’re not the X-Files detectives’ division, rookie. Perps don’t walk through walls.’

‘I understand that, captain.’

‘Why did you join the LAPD, rookie?’

The question caught Hunter by surprise.

‘What?’

‘Why did you join the LAPD?’ Captain Bolter repeated it.

Hunter knew it was a rhetorical question, so he gave the captain the biggest bullshit answer he could think of. ‘To protect and to serve, captain.’

‘Of course it was,’ the captain shot back. ‘Nothing to do with your father’s death right?’

Hunter stayed quiet.

‘It’s not in your file, but I’ve checked. Exactly one week after your father died you joined the academy.’

Hunter still said nothing.

Two weeks after receiving his PhD in Criminal Behavior Analysis and Biopsychology, Hunter’s world was turned upside down. For the past three and a half years his father had been working as a security guard for the Bank of America branch in Avalon Boulevard. A robbery gone wrong turned into a Wild West gunfight and Hunter’s father took a bullet to the chest. He fought for twelve weeks in a coma, before his heart finally gave in. The person who shot him was never caught.

‘Anger and revenge is as good a reason as any, rookie,’ Captain Bolter said. ‘But you need to tread very carefully when that’s the main thing driving you. Do you understand what I’m saying?’

No reply.

‘Are you listening to me, rookie?’

‘Yes, captain,’ there was a harder edge to Hunter’s voice this time. ‘But you don’t have to worry. If I’m wrong about this case, I’ll put in a transfer request first thing tomorrow morning. You have my word. How does that sound?’

Captain Bolter was silent for a few moments. A rookie willing to put his whole career on the line straight off the blocks, based on something that he believed in – a hunch. The captain had to admit that he admired his conviction.

“Above all, trust your gut.” Captain Bolter had lived by that motto his whole life. And it had always served him well.

Hunter couldn’t see it, but a smile came to the captain’s lips.

‘Fair enough, rookie, I’ll give you some rope on this one. Let’s see if you hang yourself with it or not.’

He disconnected.

Chapter 5

‘Are you the lead detective here?’ a forensics agent asked as he stepped into the living room, looking at Hunter a little askance. He was tall and slim, with a thick moustache and bushy sideburns. A second agent followed him in. This one was short and round, with a shaved head.

Hunter nodded and quickly introduced himself.

Both agents scrutinized Hunter’s credentials for a long while.

‘Something wrong?’ Hunter asked.

‘No, not at all.’ The tall agent shook his head. ‘You just look a lot younger than any other RHD Detective we’ve ever met.’

This was getting old in a hurry, Hunter thought.

‘I’m Keith.’ The tall agent extended his hand. ‘And this is Matt.’ He nodded at his colleague. ‘Is this your first case?’

‘With the RHD, yes,’ Hunter replied, shaking Keith and Matt’s hands.

‘I’m not sure if “welcome” is the appropriate word but . . . welcome to the toughest detectives’ division in Los Angeles. So what have we got here?’

‘In the bedroom,’ Hunter said, and proceeded to explain everything he knew so far.

‘You’re definitely right about one thing,’ Keith said, approaching the bed and studying the woman’s position for an instant. ‘This suicide scene looks all wrong.’

Hunter paused his apartment search for a moment to observe both forensics agents at work. They took their time examining the body, the bed, and everything around it.

‘I know that her skin color and elasticity have completely changed,’ Hunter said. ‘Which makes identifying marks and bruises a lot more difficult, but do you think you would still be able to recognize any strangulation or ligatures marks . . . anything that could confirm that she suffocated prior to dying?’

Matt, the shorter of the two forensics agents nodded. ‘Using a UV light, probably. She’s been dead for three days, max. Decomposition hasn’t really started yet. As I’m sure you understand, death obviously interrupts processes like natural healing. So if she had any sort of bruise on her body when she died, it should still be there. Even with the skin color change, a high spectrum UV light should be able to detect it.’

He retrieved a hand-held, battery powered UV light from his case, switched it on, adjusted the intensity to a higher wavelength, and began studying the victim’s neck. After a few seconds, he lifted her head off the bed, and while Keith held her hair up, Matt shone the light on her nape.

Hunter waited patiently.

‘And here we have it,’ Matt finally said.

‘Have you got something?’ Hunter asked, feeling a tingle of excitement travel through his body.

Matt nodded. ‘Here, let me show you.’

Hunter moved closer.

‘See this long, darker mark here?’ Matt indicated the spot on the victim’s nape.

‘I see it,’ Hunter said.

‘OK, that would’ve been caused by something, or someone, applying strong pressure to the back of her neck.’


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