Chris Carter - Gallery of the Dead

The captain had heard that saying from Hunter so many times, she had lost count.

‘I just hope you can either prove or disprove this theory before the killer decides to go out again.’

As Tracy and Hunter got to the WeHo Bistro in West Hollywood, just a couple of hours ago, the sun had begun tucking itself away behind the horizon line, transforming the sky above Los Angeles into a beautiful gradient sheet, but while they were inside, thick, dark clouds had repopulated the sky, covering almost every visible inch of it. As they came out, a thunder roar startled Tracy.

Hunter noticed the quick quiver of her shoulders.

‘Are you OK?’ he asked.

‘Yeah, I’m fine. I just wasn’t expecting any rain tonight.’

Tracy wore a black and white, knee-length strapless dress with a charming black bow around her waist. Her hair, which she had straightened for tonight’s date, was loose, falling over her shoulders like a shining red shawl.

Hunter looked up at the sky. The clouds were indeed menacing. He took off his jacket and placed it on Tracy’s shoulders.

‘Here,’ he said. ‘It doesn’t really match your outfit, but it will keep you warm.’

Tracy smiled back at him. ‘Will you walk me home?’

‘Of course.’

As they walked, the wind picked up considerably, with the army of black clouds above them gaining strength.

Tracy was glad she had Hunter’s jacket.

They reached her apartment block in less than fifteen minutes and as they climbed the short flight of stairs to the entrance lobby, Hunter paused, his body language a little cryptic.

‘You’re not going to come up?’ Tracy asked, taking a step closer to him. Her green eyes sparkled behind her black-framed cat-eye glasses. Even in her high heels she had to tilt her head up to look into his eyes.

Hunter didn’t reply.

She stepped closer still, so close that he could smell her hair.

‘I think you should come up,’ she whispered, standing up on her toes to put her lips close to Hunter’s.

Their lips didn’t touch, but he could feel her warm breath against his skin as she breathed. Her eyes blinked and the sparkle in them became desire.

Even from up close her skin was smooth and clear.

‘I really think you should come up,’ Tracy whispered again, this time slowly moving her head forward until their lips finally touched. As they did, she parted hers ever so slightly, but that was where she stopped, waiting, applying no extra pressure, controlling her urge. She wanted Hunter to take the initiative, to show her that he wanted her as much as she wanted him.

As Tracy breathed out again, Hunter knew he was lost.

He closed his eyes and kissed her.

As Hunter rolled onto his back, Tracy lay motionless, her breathing labored, her whole body glistening with sweat, her chest rising and falling in a crazy rhythm, as if she was hyperventilating.

‘Oh my God,’ she said, once she had finally caught her breath. ‘I think I need a cigarette.’

Hunter turned his head to look at her.

‘You don’t smoke.’

‘After this, I might have to take it up.’

They both laughed.

‘I wouldn’t mind a drink of water either,’ Tracy said. ‘Followed by a real drink.’

‘That would actually be quite nice,’ Hunter agreed.

‘I’ll get us one,’ Tracy added. ‘As soon as my legs stop shaking.’

More laughter.

Tracy did get them a drink, eventually, before they made love again... then again... then again.

As they lay side by side, literally too exhausted to move, Tracy smiled to herself.

‘Do you know what the most incredible thing about tonight has been?’ She quickly paused and corrected herself. ‘I mean, second most incredible thing.’

‘What was that?’ Hunter asked.

‘Your phone hasn’t rung. Not once.’

‘Unless we get a new victim,’ Hunter said, clasping his hands behind his neck, ‘there’s no reason for a phone call.’

Regardless of how intrigued she was, Tracy stayed quiet. All she did was look back at him with interest. She knew that if Hunter wanted to talk, he would talk.

‘We’re all stuck,’ Hunter continued. ‘The entire investigation is stuck. The FBI, us, forensics... we really have nowhere to go at the moment.’

Tracy rolled her body on her side, placed her elbow on the bed and rested her head on her knuckles. Her eyes were still firmly on Hunter.

His stayed on the ceiling.

‘Which is a horrible feeling,’ he said, and though it looked like he was about to tell her a lot more, he didn’t.

Tracy maintained her silence. Hunter’s profession wasn’t one that would benefit from positive-thinking comments like, ‘I’m sure you’ll get him in the end,’ or ‘You can do this. Believe in yourself.’

The reason Hunter had opened up to her, even if it had been just a couple of sentences, was because he felt the need to let off some steam, not because he was looking for comfort or reassurance. Tracy knew that very well. She was also very sure that Hunter knew if he ever wanted to talk, she would be right there.

When Hunter had gone quiet for long enough, she knew that that conversation was over.

‘I don’t suppose you’re free sometime tomorrow, are you?’ she asked.

‘Possibly. Why?’

Tracy scooted over and rested her head on Hunter’s chest. ‘I think I’ve mentioned this to you before, but for one week only, the owners of the two biggest comic-book stores in the US are opening the doors to their private collections. Between them, they’ve got some of the rarest comic books ever written. I know that comics probably aren’t your thing, but I was wondering if you’d like to come with me? Tomorrow is the last day.’

‘I didn’t know that you were into comic books,’ Hunter said.

‘I’m not a collector or anything, but I really do appreciate the art, the creativity and the imagination that is put into them. Plus, this really is a rare opportunity.’ She pulled back from Hunter, rolled over on her stomach and held herself up on her elbows. ‘C’mon, it could be fun. We don’t have to stay long.’ The mischievous smile was back. ‘We could come back here.’

‘I used to read a lot of comic books when I was younger,’ Hunter revealed. ‘A lot younger.’

‘Really?’

Hunter nodded. ‘I even had a favorite comic.’

‘And which one was that?’

‘Not a very well-known one, I’m afraid — Morbius .’

‘What?’ Tracy’s head kicked back. ‘The Living Vampire?’

Hunter’s surprise was genuine. ‘OK, I’m officially impressed now.’

‘If you’re into a comic like Morbius ,’ Tracy said, excitement lifting her voice, ‘then you have to come.’

Hunter knew Tracy was right. It probably would be fun.

‘Sure. Why not?’ he agreed. ‘What time do you have in mind?’

‘Well, I have a lecture tomorrow at ten in the morning. After that I’m free, but I’d like to re-dye my hair if possible. My roots are starting to show.’ She tilted her head down a touch to prove her point.

Hunter froze.

Sometimes... no, make that ‘most times’, not even Hunter was able to explain how his thought process worked. Things just suddenly came to him. His brain would establish the most obscure connections, triggered by words, or images, or sounds, or whatever he had come across. Right then, in bed with Tracy, Hunter had just had one of those moments.

‘Holy shit.’

Tracy looked back at him in horror.

‘Are my roots that bad?’

Hunter jumped out of bed and began getting dressed as quickly as he could.

‘Holy shit,’ he said again, before rushing out of Tracy’s apartment.