The Crucifix Killer Part 19

He poured himself a double dose from the twelve-year-old bottle of Laphroaig, dropped in his usual single cube, dimmed the lights and collapsed onto his old, stiff sofa. He felt physically and mentally exhausted, but he knew he wouldn't be able to fall asleep. His mind kept playing back everything that had happened in the past few hours and it intensified his pounding headache.

'Why couldn't I have chosen a simple profession, why couldn't I have been a chef or a carpenter?' he thought out loud. The reason was simple. Cliche or not, he wanted to make a difference, and every time his investigations and hard work caught a killer, he knew he'd made that difference. It was a high unlike any other the self gratification, the exhilaration, knowing how many lives he saved by following the evidence, staying calm and piecing together a scene that seemed lost and diluted in time. Hunter was good at what he did and he knew it.

He had another sip of his single malt and swirled it around in his mouth before swallowing it down and welcoming the burning sensation. He closed his eyes and dropped his head back, trying his best to clear his mind of all the day's events, but they were hammering his memory with a thunderous force.

The message alert from his cell phone made him jump. He felt his pockets for it but found they were empty.

's.h.i.+t!'

The phone was on the small gla.s.s bar. He'd left it there together with his wallet and keys.

Placing his gla.s.s on the floor Hunter slowly stood up and glanced at his watch.

'Who the h.e.l.l would be sending me a message at this G.o.dforsaken hour anyway?' He checked the phone.

I hope you are OK. It was very nice seeing you again this afternoon, even if it was just for a few minutes Isabella.

Hunter had forgotten all about their quick lunch in the afternoon. He grinned and at the same time felt guilty for having to run out on her for the second time. He quickly typed a reply message.

Can I call you? He pressed the 'send' b.u.t.ton and went back to the sofa. He pressed the 'send' b.u.t.ton and went back to the sofa.

A minute later the phone vibrated and played its message alert, breaking the silence in the room.

Yes.

Hunter had another sip of his single malt and pressed the 'call' b.u.t.ton.

'h.e.l.lo . . . I thought you'd be asleep by now,' she said softly.

'I thought the same about you. Isn't this a little late for a researcher? Don't you have to be in the lab early tomorrow?' Hunter asked with a little smile.

'I never sleep much. Usually five to six hours max every night. My brain is always busy. Research work does that to you.'

'Five to six hours only. That really isn't much.'

'Look who's talking. Why aren't you asleep?'

'Insomnia is part of the package. It comes with the job.'

'You need to learn how to unwind.'

'I know. I'm working on it,' he lied.

'Talking about the job is everything OK? You looked a little distressed after that phone call this afternoon.'

Hunter paused for a minute and rubbed his tired eyes. He thought of how innocent the majority of the people were, not knowing the evil that awaits just a stone's-throw away. Part of his job is to make sure these people stay innocent.

'Everything is alright. It's just the job. It always carries that sort of pressure.'

'I'm sure . . . more pressure than I can imagine. Anyway I'm really glad you called.'

'I'm sorry I had to leave in such a hurry again. Maybe I can make it up to you.' He could swear he heard her smile.

'I'd like that . . . and that's what I was thinking about. How would you like to have dinner with me at my place on Sat.u.r.day evening?'

'A dinner date?' Hunter teased.

'Well, now that the check out check out lunch date is out of the way, I thought dinner would be nice. Are you busy this Sat.u.r.day?' lunch date is out of the way, I thought dinner would be nice. Are you busy this Sat.u.r.day?'

'No, no, I'm free. Sat.u.r.day is fine. What time shall I come over?'

'How about six o'clock?'

'That sounds great. I'll bring a bottle.'

'Fantastic. Do you remember the address?'

'You'd better give it to me again, just in case. I was pretty drunk that night.'

'Don't I know it?'

They both laughed.

Twenty-Nine.

The next morning Hunter and Garcia went back to the County Department of Coroner. Doctor Winston had called them at around ten o'clock, after he'd completed the autopsy on the new victim. He wanted both detectives to be the first ones to hear the results.

George Slater's body rested on the metal autopsy table near the far wall. A white sheet covered him from the waist down. Most of his internal organs had been remo'ved, weighed, and placed over the organ tray. Doctor Winston had buzzed the two detectives into the bas.e.m.e.nt autopsy room and left them waiting by the door as he finished a.n.a.lyzing a small piece of human tissue.

'Well, one thing is for certain, our killer is very inventive,' the doctor said, lifting his eyes from the dissecting microscope. Only then Hunter realized how tired Doctor Winston looked. His thin hair was messy, his complexion heavy and his eyes exhausted.

'So he's a murder victim?' Hunter asked, pointing to the ghostly white body on the table.

'No doubt about that.'

'From our killer?'

'Oh yes, unless someone else knows about this,' the doctor said walking over to the body followed by both men. He lifted the victim's head about four inches off the autopsy table surface. Hunter and Garcia bent over at the same time, almost hitting head against head. Their eyes met the unmistakable symbol.

'It's the same killer alright,' Garcia said getting back to an upright position. 'So what was all that c.r.a.p about him dying from some sort of disease?'

'That was no c.r.a.p. A disease is exactly what killed him.' The confusion and frustration intensified in Garcia's face. 'Have you ever heard of streptococcus pyogenes streptococcus pyogenes?'

'What?'

'I guess not. How about staphylococcus aureus staphylococcus aureus?'

'Yes, doc, Latin is a constant part of my everyday vocabulary.' Garcia's sarcastic tone brought a quick smile to Hunter's lips. 'What the h.e.l.l is it?'

'It sounds like a bacterium,' Hunter said.

'And you're right on the money, Robert. Come here, let me show you.' Doctor Winston took a' moment to search for a slide from a small portable archive and then walked back to the microscope desk. 'Have a look,' he said after placing the slide over the stage.

Hunter moved closer, bent over and positioned his eyes over the eyepiece. He rotated the coa.r.s.e-focus k.n.o.b and a.n.a.lyzed the slide for a moment.

'What the h.e.l.l am I looking for here, doc? All I can see is a whole bunch of . . . little worm-like things moving around like headless chickens.'

'Let me have a look,' Garcia said like an excited college student and gesturing for Hunter to move out of the way. 'Yep, I see the same thing,' he commented after looking through the viewer.

'Those little worm-like things are streptococcus pyogenes streptococcus pyogenes, my dear students,' Doctor Winston said a.s.suming a professor's tone. 'Now, have a look at this one.' He retrieved another slide from the portable archive and replaced the one on the microscope stage.

This time Hunter saw green circular shapes that moved at a much slower pace than the previous worm-like ones. Garcia had a quick look right after Hunter.

'Yes so? Green round things this time.'

'OK, those are staphylococcus aureus.' staphylococcus aureus.'

'Do we look like biology students to you, doc? Give it to us in English.' Garcia wasn't in the mood for playing games.

Doctor Winston rubbed his eyes with the back of his right hand. He pulled a chair and sat down resting his right elbow on the microscope desk.

'The first slide that you looked at streptococcus pyogenes streptococcus pyogenes, the worm-like bacteria, once inside the human body it releases several destructive toxins. One of these toxins is the one responsible for scarlet fever.'

'He didn't die of scarlet fever, doc. The symptoms are all wrong,' Hunter shot back.

'Patience, Robert.'

Hunter threw both hands up in an 'I give up' gesture.

'Another toxin that can be released by the bacteria causes necrotizing fasciitis.'

'And that is?' Garcia now.

'That's the disease from h.e.l.l,' Hunter said as his brow creased with worry. 'Flesh-eating disease.'

'That's what it's commonly known as,' Doctor Winston agreed.

'Wait, wait, wait,' Garcia said making a 'T' sign using both of his hands. 'Did I hear you guys right? Did you just say flesh-eating disease?'

The doctor nodded, but before he was able to say anything Hunter started to explain.

'The term is widely used but not actually correct as the bacterium that causes it doesn't really eat the flesh. It's a rare infection of the deeper layers of the skin and subcutaneous tissues. It causes the destruction of skin and muscle by releasing toxins, but the overall effect makes it seem as if the victim is being eaten from the inside out.'

Garcia s.h.i.+vered and stepped away from the microscope. 'How do you know that?' he asked Hunter.

'I read a lot.' The answer came with a shrug.

'Very good, Robert,' Doctor Winston said with a smile before picking up from where Hunter left off. 'The victim starts to show flu-like symptoms, quickly moving to very strong headaches, a drop in blood pressure and tachycardia. The skin then starts to develop extremely painful, large, mucus-filled blisters and sunburn-type rashes. The victim will then go into toxic shock losing and regaining consciousness periodically. Health deteriorates lightning fast and then . . . death.'

Garcia and Hunter both looked at the corpse. The blisters had all burst, revealing dried and scabby flesh sores.

'In 2004 a rare but even more serious form of the disease started to appear with increasing frequency, and the majority of those cases were found here, in California,' the doctor continued. 'In those cases, it was discovered that the bacterium causing the disease was a strain of the staphylococcus aureus staphylococcus aureus a much stronger strain of it.' a much stronger strain of it.'

'That's the second slide we looked at, the green round things?'

Doctor Winston nodded.

'I remember that story,' Hunter said. 'It didn't really get the attention of the media. Just a sideline in the papers.'

Doctor Winston stood up and walked over to the autopsy table. Garcia and Hunter followed him with their eyes.

'The way the disease works is as follows the bacterium enters the body and reproduces itself. The more bacteria there are, the more toxins they release. The more toxins they release, the quicker and more painful the death. Unfortunately for our victim, these little b.a.s.t.a.r.ds reproduce like crazed rabbits. They can double their number in the s.p.a.ce of a few hours.'

'Can it be treated?' Garcia this time.

'Yes, if found early enough, but that rarely happens due to how fast the bacteria spread.'

'And how do you get it? How does the bacterium enter the body?'

'Funnily enough, the bacterium is frequently found living on the skin or inside the nose of a healthy person.'

Garcia placed both of his hands over his nose as if he was about to blow it. Hunter couldn't help but laugh.

'It's in a dormant state,' Doctor Winston said with a smile. 'But the bacterium can easily infect an open flesh wound. Sometimes it's picked up in hospitals from infected surgery incisions.'

'Wow, that's rea.s.suring,' Garcia joked.

'Necrotizing fasciitis is one of the fastest-spreading infections known to man. In regular cases it takes only three to five days for a patient to go from early symptoms to death. In the case of our victim, and I'm sure you both have probably guessed it, the killer has injected him with the staphylococcus aureus staphylococcus aureus bacterium.' bacterium.'

A morbid silence took over the room. What else could this killer come up with?

'But the dog race was only two days ago, how can a disease have such a quick reaction time?' Garcia asked shaking his head.

'Dog race?' Doctor Winston frowned.

Garcia waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. 'Too complicated to explain it now, doc.'

'Anyway, as I've said, the bacterium multiplies fast and the more there is the more damage it causes. Our victim was injected with a phenomenal amount of it and straight into the bloodstream. Within ten to twelve hours he would've gone from healthy to knocking on death's door.'

Doctor Winston approached the organ tray. 'His liver and kidneys were thirty-five percent destroyed. There was also great deterioration of the heart, the intestines and esophagus, and that would explain the blood when he coughed, he was hemorrhaging internally very badly when we got to him at the park. It was probably his body's last struggle before death.'

Garcia contorted his face remembering the images from the park.