Chris Carter - The Caller

Hunter had a few more fries. ‘Are you sure you don’t want any?’

Tracy sighed. ‘Will you answer my question if I have some?’

‘Sure.’

Tracy grabbed a few fries and dipped them in the tomato relish that accompanied them.

‘Like I told you before,’ Hunter finally said, ‘it’s just observation.’

‘That’s what you’ve said, yes,’ Tracy agreed. ‘And that’s also why I told you that I couldn’t see it, despite replaying everything I could remember about the episode in my mind countless times. Like I said, none of the books I had with me that night were on academia, or on any subject related to psychology. I didn’t have my badge on display, so how did you figure out that I am a psychology professor at UCLA?’

Hunter was about to reply when he felt his cellphone vibrate inside his pocket. He reached for it and checked the display screen.

‘Give me just a minute,’ he said, getting to his feet and bringing the phone to his ear. ‘Detective Hunter, Homicide Special.’ Hunter listened in silence for several seconds. ‘What?’ Disbelief filled his entire body. ‘Are you sure?’ He consulted his watch — 11:03 p.m. ‘OK. OK. I’m on my way.’

‘You’ve got to be kidding me.’ Tracy’s comment came as a whisper. ‘Again?’

‘I’m terribly sorry,’ Hunter said. The look on his face was somewhere between confused and incredulous. ‘I have to go.’

Tracy didn’t know what to say, so instead, she kept her surprised eyes on Hunter.

He reached for his wallet and placed a couple of bills on the table. As he took the first steps in the direction of the exit, he paused and looked back at Tracy.

‘I know that this will sound odd but... could I call you sometime?’

Tracy really wasn’t expecting that. ‘Umm... yeah, sure. I’d like that.’

Hunter winked at her before setting off again.

‘Wait,’ Tracy said, quickly jotting down her number on a paper napkin and getting to her feet. ‘It would help if you actually had my number, don’t you think?’

‘Yes, that would help,’ Hunter replied as he took the napkin. A second later he was gone.

Detective Webb took the keys from Dr. Barnes’ hands and unlocked the front door to her two-bedroom house in Mid-City, a very diverse and densely populated neighborhood in Central Los Angeles. The white door with a decorative beveled glass window opened with a slightly eerie creak.

At the end of their interview back at the police station, Webb had told Dr. Barnes that, given the circumstances, all he could really do was take the note and the bracelet to their forensic lab so they could be tested for fingerprints.

‘No offense, Detective,’ she had said, visibly disappointed, ‘but we both know that chances are, they won’t find any prints other than my own. Who goes through this kind of trouble and forgets to wear gloves?’

‘You’d be surprised, Doctor.’

‘Can’t it be tested for DNA?’ she had pushed.

Webb had to do a double-take. ‘Why, Doctor? Do you think that the person who took the bracelet might’ve worn it for a few hours before leaving it on your car?’

He was unsure if his words had come out with a sarcastic tone or not. By the look Dr. Barnes gave him, they had.

‘No, Detective.’ Her tone had matched his. ‘But what if after it was taken from my house, he placed it in his pocket, or in a bag, or anywhere else where the bracelet could’ve come into contact with something else that contained his DNA?’

Webb had looked even more puzzled then. He sincerely doubted that Dr. Barnes had thought her words through properly.

‘You mean DNA transference? Also known as DNA contamination? That’s a defense argument, Doctor, not an incriminating one.’

Webb had been right. Dr. Barnes hadn’t thought this through at all and right then her frustration had threatened to surpass her fear, but she still had one last angle to try.

‘OK, how about my house? How about searching it for fingerprints or DNA? We’ll have a better chance of finding something there, won’t we?’

Webb had looked back at her with “sorry puppy” eyes.

‘I can’t justify putting in a request for a forensic team, Doctor, not even a forensic agent. There was no burglary. Nothing is actually missing because you have the bracelet with you, and you admitted that you haven’t noticed any signs of a break-in. My captain would never sign the request because, technically, no crime has been committed.’

Frustration didn’t surpass her fear, but it certainly equaled it. She had no idea of what to do next. She felt completely exhausted, but the thought of going back to her house alone filled her heart with dread.

Something about Dr. Barnes had struck a chord within Detective Webb. Maybe it had been her charisma. Maybe it had been the sincerity that came across in every word she spoke. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he knew he wanted to help her.

Understandably, she felt too rattled and scared to go back to her empty house. Webb had asked her if there was anywhere else she could go and stay for the night — a friend or a family member’s house, for instance.

The thought had already crossed Dr. Barnes’ mind. She had actually considered calling her sister, Erica, who lived with her boyfriend on the opposite side of town. Maybe she could stay the night, but Dr. Barnes and Erica’s boyfriend had never got along well. She had also thought about her best friend, Nancy Morgan, but in the end she’d decided against calling either of them. What she really wanted was to feel safe in her own home.

Webb could easily see her logic, so given the circumstances he did the best he could do — he offered to follow her home and carefully check her house for her.

The eerie creak that came from her front door would’ve given the dark room beyond it a very sinister feel, if not for the fact that the air inside it carried a delicate aroma of roses and summer berries.

‘The light switch is on the wall to your right,’ she said, standing on her porch just a few paces behind Webb.

For an instant, maybe to make the doctor feel a little more secure, Webb almost unholstered his weapon as he switched on the lights and stepped into Dr. Barnes’ house. His hand did actually move towards his gun, but he paused mid-movement, feeling positively silly.

Dr. Barnes’ living room was relatively spacious, and it had undoubtedly been decorated very much with a woman’s touch. There were fluffy cushions on the sofa, scented candles in candleholders, rugs that made you want to lie down and fall asleep on them, vases filled with roses and sweet alyssum, and the walls... the walls were peach.

Webb walked over to the center of the room and paused by the navy-blue armchair. Despite his skepticism, his eyes circled the room with the utmost attention.

Dr. Barnes stayed by the door.

The detective checked each and every one of the room’s six windows. All locked. He walked back to the front door and checked its lock. No sign of forced entry. Satisfied, he nodded in the direction of the hallway that took them deeper into the house.

‘Everything else is through there?’ he asked.

‘Everything but the kitchen,’ the doctor replied, indicating a door to his right.

‘I’ll have a look in the kitchen first then,’ Webb said, making his way towards it.

Dr. Barnes finally stepped into her living room and closed the door behind her.

The kitchen was compact, with no real hiding space, unless Webb considered the fridge or the cupboard under the sink. He checked them both. No one hiding anywhere.

‘OK,’ he said, ‘let’s have a look at the rest of the house.’

‘Guest bedroom is the first bedroom on the right,’ Dr. Barnes said as they crossed the living room in the direction of the corridor. ‘First door on the left is the bathroom. The door at the end of the hallway is my bedroom.’