Chris Carter - I Am Death

Hunter saw sadness and disappointment creep into Sanders’ eyes and he understood exactly why. If Nicole Wilson had been murdered only hours after being abducted, there would’ve been very little anyone could’ve done, but she hadn’t. The killer had tortured her, seemingly for almost six days, before finally ending her life. That meant that Missing Persons had had five days, or around one hundred and twenty hours, to get to Nicole, but they didn’t get anywhere near her or her captor. No matter how experienced or seasoned a Missing Persons detective was, in these sorts of circumstances the feeling of failure wrapped up in guilt can run them over like a speed train.

‘Sure, that’d be great. Thank you,’ Hunter agreed.

Sanders popped another mint into his mouth before extending the round tin container in Hunter’s direction.

Once again, Hunter declined.

‘You’ve read the transcript of the telephone conversation between Miss Wilson and Ms. Bennett, right?’ Sanders asked. ‘Just before her abductor took her.’

Hunter nodded.

‘I’ll tell you this much, I have ten years with the LAPD MPU, half of them with the Special Division. I’ve seen some crazy shit, and I’ve investigated some really arrogant bastards, but I’ve never come across anyone with this level of confidence, or an abduction this clean. Forensics spent two days fine-combing the entire house and its grounds, and they got nothing that didn’t belong. Not a single hair. Not a speck of dust. This guy left absolutely nothing behind, other than a forensic black hole. That’s not an easy thing to achieve.’

Hunter looked at the detective for a couple of seconds. Sanders didn’t have to voice it for Hunter to know that he feared exactly what he and Garcia already knew — Nicole Wilson was only the beginning.

Their fifteen minutes were up. This had been one hell of a boring meeting, but with elections just around the corner Mayor Richard Bailey had to endure several of those on a daily basis, and he did it with a perfect smile on his lips and a look of total interest on his face. If there was one thing Richard Bailey had learned since joining the world of politics over a decade ago, it was that every vote counted, and the two women sitting before him represented a group of over one thousand voters from South Los Angeles.

‘I completely understand your views,’ Mayor Bailey said, addressing the stick-thin blonde woman who had just finished a five-minute-long monologue that he had paid no attention to. Their chairs had been strategically positioned with their backs toward the round clock on the wall behind them inside the mayor’s office. That way, while facing them, Mayor Bailey could always keep track of the time without appearing rude by consulting his wristwatch every couple of minutes.

‘And if I get to serve another term,’ he continued, dishing out another very well-rehearsed look that made sure his visitors understood what those words really meant, ‘I will certainly put those views forward to the relevant committees. You have my word.’

He stood up and adjusted the sleeves of his jacket.

The women followed suit.

‘It’s been an absolute pleasure, ladies, and I want to thank you for taking the time to come and see me,’ he said, offering his hand. His handshake was as well crafted as his entire performance — strong enough to show strength and authority, but not too overpowering. He escorted both women to the door, before giving them one last ‘goodbye’ smile.

His personal assistant, Grace Hamilton, was standing in the outer office, holding a legal-size envelope.

As always, Grace was impeccably dressed. Today she wore an extremely well-fitting navy-blue suit with a silky white blouse, but the look on her face was far from her usual tranquil and smiling one.

‘Richard,’ she said, taking a step forward once the two women were gone.

Mayor Bailey had insisted that she call him by his first name. The request hadn’t been a flirtatious move, though he did enjoy flirting and was very good at it, but because he didn’t like formalities in his office... and it made him feel younger.

He locked eyes with his assistant and paused for a heartbeat. Her eyes were full of fear.

‘Grace, is everything OK?’ There was nothing fake about his expression or tone of voice. The concern in them was all real.

Grace Hamilton never discussed anything with the mayor in his anteroom.

‘Could I have a word in private, please?’ Her voice sounded edgy and urgent.

‘Of course,’ he replied with a single nod before stepping to one side and ushering her into his office.

Grace closed the door behind her and followed Bailey to his large oak desk.

‘What’s the matter?’ Bailey asked, turning to face her.

‘This arrived this morning,’ she finally said, lifting up the envelope she had with her. ‘It was addressed to you, and marked as “urgent — private and confidential”.’

Bailey looked at Grace. ‘Yes? So? We get enough of those every week. Did you check the contents?’

‘I did,’ she said, nodding. ‘It’s a photograph.’ She paused as if she needed to catch her breath. ‘And a note.’

Bailey’s eyes moved to the envelope.

Grace handed it to him.

Without sitting down, Bailey opened it and reached inside. The first item he brought out was the 4x6 Polaroid photograph.

Grace looked away in disgust.

Bailey glanced at the image and froze. A pit immediately opened in his stomach and threatened to swallow him whole.

‘What the fuck?’

The photograph was of a woman’s face, but it was far from a glamorous one. Her dark-brown hair seemed dirty and drenched in sweat and was sticking to her clammy forehead and the sides of her face. Tears had caused her eye makeup to smudge and run down her cheeks, drawing thin dark lines that should’ve run down to her chin, but they hadn’t. Instead, they had been collected by the thick fabric gag that had been tied so tight around her mouth it had stretched her face awkwardly and cut into the edges of her lips. Just past the gag, blood had finished the thin-line design that her tears had started. But what seemed to squeeze Bailey’s heart inside his chest was the look in the woman’s eyes — pleading, full of fear and totally void of hope. It was the look of someone who deep inside knew nobody would come for her in time.

Bailey looked at Grace, his expression a mixture of repugnance and confusion.

She finally looked back at him.

‘Is this for real?’ he asked. ‘I mean, with all this digitalphoto-enhancing crap today, who can be sure, right?’

‘I don’t think so,’ Grace replied, her voice unsteady. ‘That’s a Polaroid picture, Richard. Like in the old days. I don’t think they can Photoshop those.’

The mayor looked back at the picture. ‘No, you’re right,’ he agreed. ‘Do you know who this woman is?’

Grace shook her head. ‘I’ve never seen her before. You?’

‘No, me neither.’

A couple of jittery seconds went by.

‘I was unsure whether I should bring this to you, or hand it straight to the police or the Secret Service.’

Bailey placed the photo on his desk but continued to stare at it. His palms were damp with sweat, his mind full of questions. True, over the years he had received a ton of crazy mail, but never something like this. His mind worked fast.

‘How was this delivered, Grace?’

‘It came in a FedEx envelope. The address is bogus. It’s a boarded-up grocery store.’

Bailey’s left eyebrow rose inquisitively.

‘Do you still have it? The envelope, I mean?’

‘Yes, of course. I’ll go get it.’ Grace began backing away from Bailey.

‘Grace, wait,’ Bailey called again. ‘Do we have latex gloves anywhere in the office?’