‘They have all been bagged,’ Dr. Slater added. ‘Ready to be taken for analysis,’
‘They?’ Garcia asked, his eyes moving from the photo to the doctor.
She nodded as she breathed in. ‘There were a total of sixteen photos stapled to that journal. Sixteen different “subjects”.’
Hunter and Garcia had both noticed the small pile of evidence bags on the worktop directly behind Dr. Slater, but had assumed that those were evidence belonging to different cases.
‘How about this smear at the bottom of the page here?’ Hunter asked. ‘Is this blood?’
‘It is,’ Dr. Slater confirmed. ‘Every single photo I retrieved from that notebook came accompanied by a similar blood smear. The logical conclusion is that the blood belongs to the subject in the photo. I’ve swabbed that specific one you’re looking at and the swab has already been sent to the DNA Unit for testing.’ She crossed her arms in front of her chest. ‘But please, carry on reading. The really good part is just a few lines ahead.’
Hunter placed the evidence bag down on the worktop next to the journal before allowing his attention to return to the writing, which re-started directly after the gap. On this page, there was a sketch showing a rectangular box. Underneath it, the word ‘wood’ had been written. Every dimension to the box panels, including the lid, were clearly noted.
Unlike the last subject, which turned out to be a terribly messy affair, the preparation and delivery of this one was relatively simple. No blood. No torture. No humiliation. No degradation. I heard the voices loud and clear – ‘You need to bury her alive.’
Five
Hunter paused. His concerned stare returned to the Polaroid photo inside the evidence bag before moving once again to Dr. Slater.
‘Is this for real?’ Garcia asked, a skeptical expression on his face. ‘Are you sure that this isn’t a hoax?’
‘Well,’ the doctor began. ‘That’s why I called you guys. I wouldn’t like to waste your time, so I took the liberty of checking her name and photo against the Missing Persons database.’ Her eyebrows arched as she reached into her lab-coat pocket. ‘Elizabeth Gibbs,’ she read from the printout in her hand. ‘Born October 22nd, 1994, right here in Los Angeles. Resident of La Mirada. She was reported missing on February 4th, 2018, by her boyfriend, Phillip Miller, with whom she shared a house not that far from the location cited in that book – the Albertsons parking lot on Rosecrans Avenue. Her car, a white Nissan Sentra, was found abandoned by the Sheriff’s Department at that exact location. Nothing was found in her car – no prints, no clues. Elizabeth Gibbs has also never been found. She’s still listed as missing.’ Dr. Slater returned the printout to her pocket. ‘If you missed that, the date matches the entry in that journal.’
‘Yeah, I got that,’ Hunter said. His brow was creased in thought.
‘Does that printout mention the name of the detective assigned to the case?’ Garcia asked.
Out came the printout again. ‘Detective Henrique Gomez,’ she informed them. ‘LAPD Missing Persons Unit. Do you know him?’
Hunter and Garcia both shook their heads.
‘As you might expect,’ Dr. Slater continued. ‘Miss Gibbs’s boyfriend came under heavy scrutiny, but his alibi was solid.’
Garcia scratched his forehead uncomfortably as he breathed out. ‘I’m starting to get a severe case of déjà vu here.’ His eyes widened at Hunter. ‘Another notebook describing victims and how they were murdered?’
Hunter knew that his partner was making a reference to Lucien Folter – without a doubt the most dangerous and delusional serial killer they had ever chased – but thanks to their team effort, Lucien’s new permanent address was the United States Federal Supermax prison in Florence, Colorado.
‘This isn’t the same thing, Carlos,’ he came back.
‘I’m not saying it is,’ Garcia agreed. ‘All I’m saying is that a notebook describing victims and how they were murdered brings back some pretty awful memories.’
‘What are you guys talking about?’ Dr. Slater asked, curiosity all over her face. ‘What memories?’
‘It’s an old case we worked on,’ Hunter replied, but left it at that. His attention reverted back to the notebook on the worktop so he could finish reading the rest of the entry.
Building the box where the subject lay was easy. The voices gave me no specifications when it came to the container itself, so I was free to do as I liked. A few solid planks of wood and a bag of nails was all it took. There was no point in making the inside of the container comfortable. The technical side of the request took me a whole day to finally get it all working, but in the end everything ran smoothly and without glitches. The subject was never retrieved from its resting place – 34°15'16.9"N 118°14'52.4"W.
Garcia’s jaw dropped open. ‘Is that what I think it is?’
Hunter felt a surge of adrenaline rush though him. The writer had ended the entry with longitude and latitude coordinates.
‘I think so,’ he replied.
Both detectives looked back at Dr. Slater, who nodded almost apologetically.
‘Call me curious, but I couldn’t wait. I entered those coordinates onto a web map application.’
‘And?’ Garcia asked, eagerly.
‘And what I got was a somewhat remote location by a cluster of trees near some hills, about a mile into Deukmejian Wilderness Park, in Glendale. Though the location is somewhat remote,’ the doctor added, ‘it’s certainly accessible.’
For a moment, the room went completely silent.
Garcia saw the look on Hunter’s face and spoke first.
‘OK.’ He nodded at his partner. ‘I know that look, Robert. I know what you’re thinking, but before we take this to Captain Blake asking for a green light for a digging expedition, don’t you think that we should at least wait for the DNA results from that blood smear? Elizabeth Gibbs’s DNA will be on file with the Missing Persons Unit. If there’s a match then I’m sure we’ll get a “go ahead”, but if we go up to the captain right now with nothing more than matching dates on a suspicious notebook, she’ll red-light us. You know she will, especially with all these budget cuts that the department’s been getting.’
‘We also have the Polaroid photos,’ Dr. Slater offered.
‘Still,’ Garcia argued. ‘That won’t be enough to get Captain Blake to approve an excavating expedition somewhere in the woods. Not with the pressure she’s under because of these budget cuts. Those come at a high cost. We’d need to get an entire crew over to that location with a digger, lights, power generators, the works. The Captain will need more than matching dates and Polaroids.’
‘Yes, you’re right,’ Hunter agreed. ‘But DNA analysis can take a while. You know that. Even with an urgent request.’ He checked his watch.
Once again, Garcia recognized the look on his partner’s face.
‘You cannot be serious,’ he said, looking at Hunter sideways.
‘It’s coming up to two o’clock now,’ Hunter came back. ‘We can probably make it up there for about three, three-thirty at the latest. That’ll give us about one to one and a half hours of sunlight today, but if needed, we can go back tomorrow.’