Chris Carter - The Caller

He finished his account without ever meeting the detectives’ gaze again. He never told them about the demon’s hysterical laugh.

‘Could I ask you how long you were in in Fresno for?’ Hunter began once Mr. J was done.

‘I left here on Thursday morning.’

‘And before that, when was the last time you were away?’

Mr. J paused before deliberately but very delicately allowing his eyes to move up and to the right. He knew that both detectives would be monitoring everything about him, especially his facial expressions and eye movements. Textbook behavior psychology preached that if the eyes went up and to the left, the subject was trying to access his/her visual constructive cortex. In other words, trying to create a mental image that wasn’t there to start with. If the eyes moved up and to the right, the subject was searching his/her memory for visually remembered images — memories that did exist.

‘About three and a half weeks ago,’ he replied truthfully, his voice tired and defeated. ‘I had to fly to Chicago for a couple of days.’

‘Business again?’

‘That’s right.’

Hunter wrote the information down in his notebook. ‘Does anyone else, other than you and your wife, have a key to this house?’

Mr. J’s reply came with a very slight lift of the shoulders. ‘My son.’

‘No one else? A cleaner perhaps?’

‘No. Cassandra did all the cleaning herself, once a week,’ Mr. J explained. ‘She said it relaxed her. We use a pool cleaning company for the pool in the backyard, but they don’t have a copy of the key.’

‘Have you, your wife, or your son lost those keys recently?’ Hunter insisted. ‘Do you know?’

‘Not that I’m aware of. I’ve never lost my keys. I don’t think Cassandra ever did either. As for Patrick, if he has, he’s never told me about it, but I can ask him when I talk to him.’

Hunter nodded. ‘We’d appreciate it if you did.’

Mr. J didn’t say anything because he didn’t want the detectives in his office to become suspicious of how much he knew about police interrogations and interviews, but the line of questioning they were pursuing could mean only one thing — no signs of forced entry had been found all throughout the house. They had no idea of how his wife’s killer had got in.

‘You said that a hammer and chisel were used,’ Hunter asked, finally moving the subject along. ‘Are you sure it was a chisel, not a nail?’

‘It was a masonry chisel with a pointy end,’ Mr. J replied confidently. ‘Not a nail. I’m sure of that. But the hammer was a regular claw hammer.’

‘Did it belong to this house?’ Hunter asked. ‘Is that something he would’ve found inside a drawer, maybe?’

Once again, Mr. J shook his head. ‘No, neither the hammer nor the chisel belong to this house. He must’ve brought them with him.’ He regarded both detectives intensively. ‘From your line of questioning, I take it that none have been found.’

‘No,’ Hunter admitted. ‘The house and its grounds have been searched, but we’ve found nothing. In the morning we’re widening the search to include neighboring streets.’

The look Mr. J gave Hunter and Garcia was totally lacking in confidence.

‘How about Cassandra’s phone?’ he asked. ‘This psycho used her phone to call me. Have you found it?’

‘Yes,’ Garcia this time. ‘We found it inside the microwave in the kitchen.’ He shook his head. ‘It’s worthless. Even Forensics won’t be able to get anything out of it.’

Mr. J played dumb for a moment. ‘Can’t you contact her cellphone company? Ask them for a digital copy of the call?’

‘They won’t have any,’ Hunter replied.

‘How come?’

Hunter gave Mr. J the explanation he already knew.

‘We did find a black Asus laptop on the kitchen counter,’ Garcia said. ‘Did that belonged to your wife?’

Mr. J nodded. ‘It was Cassandra’s, yes.’

‘You said that the perpetrator was wearing a mask?’ Garcia asked, taking the subject back to the killer’s video call.

Mr. J nodded. ‘The fucking coward. Man enough to break into my house and murder a defenseless woman. Man enough to place a goddamn video-call to me just so he could play God. But not man enough to show his face.’

A vein on Mr. J’s forehead threatened to explode.

‘Could you describe this mask for us?’

Mr. J’s description of the killer’s mask was identical to the one Tanya Kaitlin had given them two days ago.

Garcia looked at his partner but said nothing. ‘And you also mentioned that the caller told you that calling the police would be a waste of time, is that right?’

‘Yes. He said that the police would never make it in time.’

Another quick look exchange. They would have to check the nine-one-one records for bogus calls once again, but Hunter and Garcia were both sure that the killer had used the same tactics as before.

Hunter decided to bring the questioning a little closer to their first victim.

‘Do you know if your wife knew someone by the name of Karen Ward?’ he asked.

Mr. J’s eyes narrowed for a beat, while he repeated the name to himself a couple of times.

Hunter observed him attentively.

‘The name doesn’t really ring any bells,’ he replied. ‘But Cassandra knew a lot of people who I never met. People from her gym. People from the charity shops she volunteered at. People from the support groups she attended. Her circle of friends was much bigger than mine.’ He fixed Hunter down with a new serious stare. ‘Why? Who is she?’

‘We don’t know yet,’ Hunter lied. ‘Her name was on a card we found outside on the street.’

‘Outside on the street like what?’ Mr. J asked, buying it. ‘On my front yard? On the street in front of the house? Where?’

Hunter had to think fast. ‘That’s the reason I asked. It was found on the street a little further up the road. It’s probably nothing, but we’ll check with every house on the street anyway.’

Mr. J wasn’t able to tell if that was a lie or not, but he immediately committed the name to memory. He would have to ask Brian Caldron to check on who she was.

Hunter quickly moved the subject away from Karen Ward. ‘You mentioned your wife and support groups?’

‘Cassandra lost her mother to an undiagnosed heart condition several years ago,’ Mr. J explained. ‘Support groups helped her a lot during that time, but she’s the kind of person who likes helping others too.’ He paused, realizing his mistake. His pain was almost palpable. ‘ Was the kind of person who liked helping others,’ he corrected himself. ‘So every now and again she would attend support-group sessions for people who had lost loved ones to illnesses. Try to help them in some way. That’s the kind of person she was.’

‘Do you have any other details on these support groups?’ Hunter asked. ‘Names? Locations where they met? Anything?’

‘No. Not really. But I can call a few of her friends and try to find out.’

‘That would be very much appreciated,’ Hunter said, though he would get a team on to it straight away as well.

‘Did your wife used any type of social media network sites?’ Garcia asked.

‘Doesn’t everyone nowadays?’

‘Yes, that’s very true,’ Garcia accepted it. ‘Did she ever mention anything to you about anyone trolling her, or sending her inappropriate messages, or anything?’

Mr. J brought a hand to his face and used his thumb and index finger to rub his exhausted eyes.

‘No,’ he said. ‘Never. But she mainly used it just to keep in touch with some old friends from Santa Ana. Nothing like what most kids do nowadays, like my son, spending most of his time online.’