Chris Carter - Gallery of the Dead

The second type is even more debilitating because it will allow the subject to fall asleep easily at first. It will permit them to go into a deep sleep, which we all experience during the first third of our sleeping time, before torturously waking them up as if an angry fire alarm had gone off inside their heads. Once they are awake, most people who suffer from this type of insomnia will not be able to fall asleep again for the rest of the night.

Unfortunately for Hunter, he suffered from both types.

He’d been asleep for just under two hours when his brain decided to hit the fire-alarm switch.

‘Oh, give me a goddamn break,’ he mumbled as he opened his eyes and woozily stared at the ceiling. He could picture his brain laughing at him.

So you thought you would get some real sleep this time, did you? Oh, Robert, you are so easy to fool.

Hunter turned to one side and closed his eyes again, willing sleep to come back, but that just caused his brain to laugh harder.

What are you doing? Are you challenging me? We both know who’ll win this battle, don’t we? Sleep time is over for you, my dear friend.

Defeated, Hunter sat at the edge of his bed and switched on the bedside lamp.

Cursing his brain, Hunter staggered into the bathroom and washed his face. As he reached for the bathrobe hanging from the hook by the shower enclosure, he heard his cellphone ring on his bedside table. He rushed to it.

‘Detective Hunter,’ he said into the mouthpiece. ‘UVC Unit.’

‘Robert, it’s Erica. We’ve got a lead.’ There was an excited quiver to Agent Fisher’s voice.

‘What?’

‘Cyber Crime has managed to track the external connections that were made into the Optum platform.’

‘All of them?’

‘That’s right. It took them almost three days to track the entire path because the connection was bounced through five different locations. A pretty clever move, according to Cyber Crime, but not clever enough. The connections all originated from the exact same location, and guess what? The location is in California. Less than a hundred miles outside Los Angeles.’

‘What? Where?’

‘Riverside County,’ Agent Fisher replied. ‘The property is an old horse ranch just south of Skull Canyon, about an hour’s drive away.’

‘Who’s the owner?’

‘The ranch used to belong to a Mr. Thomas Brewer, who died nine years ago. His wife had passed away five years before him and their only son was killed in action in Iraq in 2005. There’s no record of a new owner. It seems like the place has been abandoned since Mr. Brewer’s death. We’re on our way there right now. You coming?’

Hunter felt a whoosh of warmth start at his temples and slowly spread through his whole body.

‘What’s the address?’

‘I’m sending a map with all the coordinates to your phone right now.’

Once Hunter joined Corona Freeway heading south, it took him exactly fifty-two minutes to reach exit eighty-five, leading to Indian Truck Trail. From there it was another four minutes until he reached Temescal Canyon Road. Two minutes later Hunter got to the dirt road Agent Fisher had indicated on the map she had sent him. The road was narrow and bumpy, surrounded by hills, bushes and rough terrain. The sky, dense with menacing clouds, cast a particularly dark night where not a single star could be seen.

Hunter drove for another eight minutes until he saw Garcia standing in the middle of the road, signaling him with a flashlight. He instructed Hunter to switch off his headlights and pull up by some heavy bushes on the right, where Garcia’s Honda Civic, a Chevrolet Malibu and an Audi A6 were already parked.

‘When did you get here?’ Hunter asked, as he stepped out of his Buick and zipped up his jacket.

‘About three minutes before you,’ Garcia replied. ‘I got the call around two in the morning.’

‘Yes, so did I. So what have we got?’

‘Just around those trees.’ Garcia indicated a cluster of low trees a few yards in front of them. ‘In a night this dark, headlights can be seen from miles away. This is as close as we can get in a car without announcing we’re coming.’

They rounded the trees and climbed up a short but steep hill covered by shrubs. Agents Fisher and Williams were crouched down behind a couple of leafy bushes.

‘That’s the ranch,’ Agent Fisher said, indicating through the bushes while handing Hunter a pair of binoculars. He repositioned himself and had a look.

The property was about two hundred and forty yards in front of them. There were only two buildings — a two-story wooden house with squared windows on the right and a long and wide stable on the left. Both structures looked old, uncared for and in serious need of some heavy repairs. The place also looked deserted.

‘Cyber Crime traced the Optum platform breaches to this location?’ Hunter asked, handing the binoculars back to Agent Fisher.

‘That’s right. All three of them, but it doesn’t look like anyone actually lives here. Did you notice the state of the place? Most of it is falling apart. If Cyber Crime got this right, then my guess is that the killer probably searched around for a place like this — abandoned, unclaimed and far from prying eyes. You drove up the dirt track, right?’ She looked around just to emphasize her point. ‘There’s nothing around here but hills and rough terrain. No neighbors. No roads. No animals. Nothing. In theory, this place is a safe house. The killer could do whatever he liked in there without ever worrying that he might get caught or disturbed.’

With the number of abandoned and shut-down properties increasing every year all over the land, Hunter didn’t find it at all surprising that this killer had perhaps settled on a disused location to run his operation from. Over the years, he and Garcia had chased a number of perpetrators who had done just that — used abandoned buildings as their ‘headquarters’, or to dump bodies, or to rape and torture their victims before murdering them... the applications varied, but the examples were plenty.

‘Do we know if there’s anyone in there right now?’ Hunter asked. ‘It looks empty.’

‘There’s someone in there, all right,’ Agent Williams countered. ‘I got here about twenty minutes before you guys. See the top window on the right?’ He indicated the house. ‘About fifteen minutes ago, a light came on briefly before being switched off again. We haven’t seen anyone leave.’

‘Can I have those binoculars again?’ Hunter asked.

He spent another minute studying the property and its grounds. No dogs, and he couldn’t see a vehicle anywhere, but then again, a car could easily be parked at the back of the house, or inside the stable.

Hunter turned around and looked down the hill they had climbed. ‘So are we waiting for the strike team?’

‘They’re on their way,’ Agent Fisher replied. ‘But we’re not waiting.’ She quickly decided to explain before the next obvious question came her way. ‘This killer acts alone, we all know this. If he’s in there, and it looks like he is, then the odds are totally in our favor. Four armed and highly trained law-enforcement officers against one probably unarmed civilian.’

‘Probably,’ Garcia said, as he zipped up his jacket and readjusted its collar. The wind had started to pick up, bringing with it a strong smell of damp soil. Rain was clearly imminent.

‘He has no reason to be,’ Agent Fisher retorted. ‘He’s not waiting on a strike. Like I’ve said, this is probably his safe house. The only place where he feels secure enough to let down his guard. Add to that the fact that he’s completely oblivious to the fact that we’ve made this location. He might be in there walking around naked while covering himself in ice-cream. I’ve checked with Cyber Crime — they’ve covered their tracks. They guaranteed me that there’s no electronic, cyber way the killer could’ve been alerted that his connections to Optum have been traced.’