As outrageous as the boastful claim sounded, Hunter knew Lucien was right.
‘We could even have a talent show to search for America’s next Superstar Serial Killer.’ Lucien pulled a face as if he were seriously considering it. ‘I should actually suggest that to some cable TV channels. And it wouldn’t surprise me if one did consider such a show, because one thing is for sure — they would have a bigger audience than most of their other shit.’
Memories of Hunter’s latest investigation with the LAPD exploded in his mind like fireworks — a serial killer who had created his own reality Internet murder show. And just like Lucien had suggested, the audience logged in to watch it in droves.
Lucien stood up, grabbed the plastic cup from the small metal table, walked over to the washing basin in the corner, and poured himself some water before returning to the edge of the bed.
‘But returning to your question, Agent Taylor,’ Lucien continued. ‘I didn’t always disposed of my bodies in the same way.’ He had a sip of his water.
‘Susan,’ Hunter said, breaking his silence. ‘You said she was your first victim.’
Lucien’s attention turned to Hunter.
‘I knew you’d want to start with her, Robert. Not only because she was a friend, but also because you’re right. I did tell you that she was my first one. And that really is the perfect place to start, isn’t it?’ He took a deep breath and the look in his eyes changed, as if he weren’t bound by the walls around him anymore. As if the memory and the images were so vivid he could touch them. ‘So let me tell you how it all began.’
Forty
Palo Alto, California.
Twenty-five years earlier.
‘So, are you really going to go traveling?’ Lucien asked, placing a new round of drinks on the table.
Susan Richards nodded. ‘I sure am.’
Lucien and Susan had both graduated in psychology from Stanford University just a week ago, and were still flying high on their achievement. They’d been celebrating every night since.
‘Before I have to start job-hunting,’ Susan said, reaching for her drink — a double Jack Daniel’s and Coke. ‘I want to take a little time for myself, you know? Visit some different places. Maybe even take a trip to Europe. I always wanted to go there.’
Lucien laughed. ‘Job hunting? Have you gone mad? We just graduated from Stanford, Susan, which is the top psychology university in the country. If you decide not to start your own, practices from all over will be hunting you.’
‘Is that what you’re going to do?’ Susan asked. ‘Start your own practice?’
‘Nah, I don’t think so. I’ve been giving it a little thought lately, and I think that I might do the same as Robert.’
‘PhD?’
‘I’ve been thinking about it, yeah. What do you think?’
‘Yeah, if that’s what you really want, go for it, Lucien.’
Lucien tilted his head to one side and shrugged at the same time. ‘I just might.’
‘Talking about Robert,’ Susan said, adjusting herself in her seat, ‘it’s a pity that he had to go back to LA today.’
Young Robert Hunter had been there for their graduation ceremony and for the first three nights of their week-long party spree, but he had taken the bus back to Los Angeles that morning to spend a week with his father, before he had to go back to Palo Alto to start his summer job.
‘Yeah, I know,’ Lucien replied, sipping his new cocktail.
They were sitting at The Rocker Club in Crescent Park, on the north side of Palo Alto. It was their favorite lounge — the staff were friendly, the booze was cheap, the crowd was usually young and up for a good time, and the music was rocking and upbeat.
‘He does miss his father quite a bit,’ Lucien added. ‘It’s the only family he’s got left.’
‘Yes, I know,’ Susan said. ‘His mother passed away when he was very young, didn’t she?’
Lucien nodded. ‘I think he was about seven or eight, but he never really talks about it. Even when he’s a little drunk, Robert still manages to avoid the subject. I think that there’s more to it than just standard trauma of losing a parent when young, you know?’
Susan paused halfway through sipping her drink. ‘Oh, please don’t.’
‘What?’
‘Please tell me that you’re not going to be one of those dopey psychology graduates who can barely have a conversation with someone without psychoanalyzing them, Lucien. Especially your friends.’
‘I. .’ Lucien shook his head with a half-embarrassed smile on his lips. ‘I wasn’t psychoanalyzing Robert.’
‘Yes, you were.’
‘No, I wasn’t. I was just saying that we’ve shared the same tiny dorm room for four years. He’s an odd person. Brightest guy I’ve ever met, but odd nonetheless, and I think that his mother’s death might go a little deeper than he lets on.’
‘Oh, really?’ Susan said, putting her drink down on the table and pulling a face. ‘Like what, for example, Doctor Lucien? Let’s hear your theory.’
‘I’m not a doctor, and I don’t have a theory,’ Lucien replied, pulling a face of his own. ‘I was just saying. .’ He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. ‘Look, never mind. I’m not even sure why we’re talking about this. We’re here to party and celebrate.’ He reached for his drink. ‘So let’s party and celebrate.’
Susan raised her glass. ‘Yeah, I’ll drink to that.’
Guns N’ Roses’ ‘Sweet Child of Mine’ started playing through the speakers. Lucien finished his cocktail in two big gulps.
‘C’mon, let’s go dance,’ he said, getting to his feet.
‘But. .’ Susan pointed at her drink.
‘Drink it down, girl. . rock and roll style,’ Lucien replied, urging her with a series of hand movements. ‘C’mon, c’mon, c’mon.’
Susan gulped her drink down, took Lucien’s hand and allowed him to drag her to the dance floor.
A couple of hours and several drinks later they were both ready to leave. Susan looked to be really drunk, while Lucien looked in much better shape.
‘I think we should leave your car here and take a cab,’ Susan said. Her words were starting to skid into each other. ‘You can pick it up tomorrow sometime.’
‘Nah,’ Lucien came back. ‘I’m still good. I can drive.’
‘No, you can’t. You drank just as much as me, and I. . am. . wasted.’
‘Yeah, but I was drinking cocktails, not double shots of JD and Coke. You know the cocktails here are mainly juice with a splash of booze. I could drink them all night and still be OK to drive home.’
Susan paused and regarded Lucien for a long instant. He did look quite steady on his feet, and he was right, the cocktails at the Rocker Bar weren’t very strong.
‘Are you sure you’re OK to drive?’
‘Positive.’
Susan shrugged. ‘OK then, but you’re driving slowly, you hear? I’m going to keep my eye on you.’ She made a V with her index and middle fingers, pointed at her eyes, and then slowly moved her hand in the direction of Lucien’s.
‘Ten-four, ma’am,’ Lucien said, giving her a military salute.
Lucien had parked down the road, just around the corner. At that time in the morning, the street looked deserted.
‘Buckle up,’ he said, taking the driver’s seat. ‘It’s the law.’ He smiled.
‘Says the man who had a truckload of cocktails before taking the wheel,’ Susan joked, struggling with the seatbelt.