‘And then you got your break.’
‘And then we got our break – we arrested Mike Farloe. For Scott, that was a blessing.’
‘I can see why.’
‘I’m sure if the case had gone on for a few more months, Amanda would’ve walked out on him and Scott would’ve ended up in a crazy house.’
‘So what happened after the arrest?’
‘We were ordered to go on a vacation, not that we needed any persuasion,’ Hunter said with a shy smile.
‘I bet you didn’t.’
‘Scott’s big passion was this boat of his. He’d saved for years to be able to afford it.’ Another sip. ‘He needed to spend time with Amanda, you know, just the two of them to try and patch things up. A sailing vacation sounded like a great idea.’
‘It was a sailboat?’ Garcia’s interest grew.
‘Yeah, something like… Catarina 30.’
Garcia laughed. ‘Catalina 30, you mean.’
Hunter’s eyes met Garcia’s. ‘Yeah, that’s it, how do you know?’
‘I grew up with sailboats. My father was obsessed with them.’
‘Huh! How about that? Anyway, there was some sort of fuel leak on board. Something ignited it causing it to blow. They died in their sleep.’
‘A fuel leak?’ Garcia sounded surprised.
‘That’s right,’ Hunter replied, noticing Garcia’s skeptical look. ‘I know what you’re thinking.’
Garcia raised his eyebrows.
‘Sailboats don’t carry that much fuel. Why would they, right? They are sailboats. And it would’ve had to have been a massive leak to cause the boat to explode.’
Garcia nodded.
‘Yeah, that didn’t sit right with me either so I tried carrying out my own private investigation. I don’t believe someone as thorough as Scott would’ve overlooked any sort of problem with his most prized possession, no matter how small. Scott was a very proud man.’ Hunter had another sip of his whisky. ‘The leak didn’t come from the engine. It came from the fuel barrows.’
‘Fuel barrows?’
‘For some reason that I’ll never find out, Scott took more fuel onboard than usual. A few barrows.’
‘Was he planning a longer trip?’
‘I don’t know, and as I’ve said, I’ll never find out.’
Garcia looked pensive for a long minute and watched Hunter drink the rest of his whisky in silence. ‘Did Scott smoke?’
‘Both of them did, but I don’t buy it. That’s what the official report tried to blame it on.’ Hunter shook his head. ‘There’s no way I’ll ever believe that some sort of cigarette accident caused the boat to blow. Not with Scott on board. He wouldn’t make that sort of mistake.’
They stared at each other without saying a word.
‘I was only told about it two weeks after it’d happened, when I got back to the RHD.’
Garcia could sense real pain in his partner. ‘I take it that the case’s been closed.’
Hunter nodded. ‘They saw no reason to investigate it any further.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘If I’d lost a partner to the job, then maybe…’ Hunter paused, moving his index finger around the rim of his now empty glass. ‘But that just felt wrong – a freak accident and suddenly I’d lost two very important people in my life.’
‘Two?’
Hunter rubbed his eyes, taking his time to respond. ‘Amanda was my only cousin. I had introduced them to each other.’ His voice was sad. It was obvious Hunter was battling with his emotions. This was the first time he’d talked about what had happened to anyone, and in a way, it made him feel better. Hunter noticed that Garcia looked like he wanted to say something. Maybe something to try and comfort him, but he knew that in situations like these words would make no difference.
Garcia bit his lip and said nothing.
It took Hunter a few more seconds to gather himself again. ‘We better get going,’ he finally said then got up.
‘Yeah, sure.’ Garcia finished his whisky in one big gulp.
Outside the warm air felt a little uncomfortable.
‘Maybe we should just call police rescue,’ Garcia said as they reached Hunter’s car once again.
‘No need.’ Hunter turned the key in the ignition and the engine started straight away.
‘I’ll be damned!’
‘I told you, great car, just a little temperamental.’ Hunter had a proud smile on his lips as he drove away.
Twenty
Hunter’s shirt was drenched in sweat when he woke up from another vivid and disturbing dream at five in the morning.
He sat in bed, breathing heavily, his forehead wet with perspiration, his whole body shaking. When would these dreams leave him? Since Scott’s death they’d become a constant part of his nights. He knew he wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep now. He walked into the bathroom and splashed some icy-cold water on his face. His breathing had slowed down but his hands were still shaking. The reflection in the mirror disturbed him. The bags under his eyes seemed heavier, his complexion too pale.
He moved to the kitchen and sat in the dark for a few minutes nursing his anxiety. His eyes grazed the kitchen’s noticeboard and he saw the note he’d pinned up a few days ago – Isabella.
Hunter had forgotten about her. He unpinned the note from the board and read it. A pleasing grin found its way to his lips without him even noticing it. For a quick second he forgot all about the Crucifix Killer’s case and remembered how she made him smile. He remembered how he had to fight the urge to jump back in bed with her after her invitation.
Hunter retrieved his cell phone from his jacket pocket, keyed in her number and created an alarm entry to remind him at 12:30 p.m.
Hunter arrived at the RHD building at eight o’clock to find Garcia already sitting at his desk. They spent the morning faxing photos to model and acting agencies and trying to gather all the information they could about D-King. Hunter knew from experience never to interrogate anyone unprepared, especially if that someone was a self-proclaimed crime lord.
‘Yeah, it looks like we’re gonna be dealing with one tough sonofabitch here,’ Garcia said, holding the fax he’d just received.
‘I knew that, but what do you have?’
‘As you’ve said before it seems like our guy deals in just about anything you’d like, drugs, guns, prostitution, stolen goods…’ Garcia made a movement with his hand indicating that the list went on and on. ‘And you were right when you said he was very slick. He’s been taken to court a few times…’
‘Let me guess, walked every time.’
‘Free as a bird.’
‘That figures. Where did that information come from?’
‘The District Attorney’s office.’
‘And that’s all they sent us?’ Hunter arched his eyebrows.
‘Uh-huh.’
‘Get back onto them and see if they can send us the whole file. They usually do a very good job of gathering information on the people they’re after.’
‘I’m on it.’ Garcia started searching his desk for the DA’s office number. He knew he had it just a minute ago.
Hunter felt the vibration of the cell phone in his pocket before he heard its sound alert – ‘12:30 call Isabella’.
‘I’ll be right back, gotta make a quick personal call.’ He stepped into the empty corridor and closed the door behind him, leaving Garcia still looking for the DA’s phone number.
He selected Isabella’s number from his phone’s address book, pressed the dial button and heard it ring three times.
‘Hello!’
‘Hi… Isabella?’
‘Yes, this is Isabella.’
‘Hi, this is Robert Hunter.’ He couldn’t remember if he’d told her his name or not. ‘We met over the weekend at the Hideout bar.’
‘This past weekend?’ she sounded uncertain.
‘Yeah, I ended up in your apartment. Had to rush out at three in the morning, remember?’