One by One (Роберт Хантер 5 Поодиночке) - Carter Chris (2) - Страница 14
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Hunter said nothing in reply. From the corner of his eye Hunter saw Garcia’s face light up as he read something on his computer screen.
‘Anyway, I’m emailing you all the results we’ve got so far,’ Brindle said. ‘If anything more comes up from the fibers and hairs, I’ll let you know.’
‘Thanks, Mike.’ Hunter put the phone down.
Garcia hit the ‘print’ button.
‘What’s up, Carlos?’
Garcia collected the printout and showed it to Hunter. It was a black and white portrait of a white male in his mid to late twenties. His light brown hair was short and messy. His face was round with chubby cheeks, a prominent forehead and thin eyebrows. His eyes were dark and almond shaped. On the portrait he had a bit of a spaced-out look on his face.
Hunter’s eyes widened. He would’ve recognized that face anywhere. He’d stared at it for hours on end. He watched him die again and again. There was no doubt in his mind. He was staring at a photograph of their victim.
Seventeen
Hunter finally blinked.
‘Where did you get this?’
Garcia had handed the printout to Hunter and was already back at his computer, reading the email he’d just received.
‘Missing Persons. They just sent it over.’
Hunter’s eyes returned to the photograph.
‘He was reported missing on Wednesday,’ Garcia said. ‘It took the Missing Persons’ face recognition program until this morning to partially match that picture to the snapshot we sent them.’
‘Who was he?’
‘His name was Kevin Lee Parker, twenty-eight years old, from Stanton, in Orange County. He was currently residing in Jefferson Park with his wife, Anita Lee Parker. She was the one who reported him missing. He worked as a manager in a videogames shop in Hyde Park.’
‘How long was he missing for?’
Garcia scrolled down on the attached file that had come with the email. ‘Since Monday. That was the last time his wife saw him. Monday morning, when he left for work. He didn’t go back home that evening.’
‘But she only reported him missing on Wednesday,’ Hunter said. ‘Two days ago.’
Garcia nodded. ‘That’s what it says here.’
‘Do we know if he turned up for work on Monday?’
A little more scrolling. ‘According to his wife, yes. She called the shop on Tuesday morning and they said that he did turn up for work the day before.’
‘But not on Tuesday?’
‘No.’
‘Does he have a cellphone?’
‘Yes. Ms. Lee Parker has been calling it since Monday evening. No answer.’
Hunter checked his watch. ‘OK, let’s get the research team to run a check on Mr. Lee Parker’s name. Usual stuff: all the background they can get.’
‘They’re already on it,’ Garcia said.
‘Great,’ Hunter said, reaching for his jacket. ‘Let’s go talk to Mrs. Lee Parker.’
Eighteen
Jefferson Park, with its single-story homes and low-rise apartment buildings, was a small district in southwestern Los Angeles. It had begun as one of the city’s wealthiest areas at the turn of the twentieth century. As the city grew, and newer, more modern neighborhoods were created, wealth started to abandon the area. A century on and Jefferson Park had become just one of many lower-middle-class neighborhoods in a city that never seemed to stop growing.
At that time in the morning the traffic on Harbor Freeway was a bumper-to-bumper snail procession, and what should’ve been a ten to fifteen-minute drive took the best part of forty-five minutes.
Kevin Lee Parker’s street looked like a suburban postcard. Set back, single-story houses lined both sides of a road where tall trees shadowed the sidewalks. His house was white with blue windows, a blue door and a two-way pitched terracotta roof. The white picket-style fence that surrounded the property looked like it had received a new coat of paint recently. The front lawn, though, could’ve done with a trim. Two young kids were riding their bicycles up and down the street, incessantly ringing their handlebar bells. As he stepped out of the car, Hunter noticed a neighbor from the next house along studying them over her pristine hedge.
The short walkway from the wooden gate to the front door of Kevin Lee Parker’s house was old and paved with cement-colored blocks. Several of them were cracked. Some were missing one or two corners.
They got to the porch and Garcia knocked three times – nothing for a long moment. He was about to knock again when the door was finally opened by a plump woman in her early twenties. Her disheveled hair was dark and short, her face round and meaty. She had a baby propped on her hip. She looked exhausted, and her eyes had the gritty red tint of someone who’d been crying, or had had very little sleep, or both. She just looked at the two detectives without saying a word.
‘Ms. Lee Parker?’ Hunter asked.
She nodded.
‘My name is Robert Hunter. I’m with the LAPD. We spoke earlier on the phone.’
Anita Lee Parker nodded again.
‘This is my partner, Detective Carlos Garcia.’ They both showed her their credentials.
The baby girl in her arms smiled at them and moved her right hand, as if wanting to greet both detectives. Looking at the tiny baby, Hunter smiled back, but inside him his heart sank.
‘You find Kevin?’ Anita asked in an anxious voice. She had a strong Puerto Rican accent.
‘Could we maybe talk inside, Ms. Lee Parker?’ Hunter suggested.
For a moment she seemed confused, as if she hadn’t understood him. Then she took a step to her left and showed them inside.
The front door led them straight into a small living room. On one corner, a portable fan stirred the air, which was heavy with the smell of baby stuff. A three-seat sofa and two armchairs were draped with multicolored sheets that looked like patchwork quilts straight out of the Deep South. A large picture of Jesus decorated one of the walls, and family portraits were scattered around the room. Anita was so nervous she didn’t offer anyone a seat.
‘You find Kevin?’ she asked again. Her voice almost faltering. ‘Where is he? Why he no call me?’
Anita already seemed on the verge of a breakdown. Hunter had been in that situation too many times before to know that he needed to extract whatever information he could out of her before she went hysterical.
The baby in her arms was starting to sense her mother’s anxiety. She had gone from smiling to frowning, on the verge of crying.
‘Anita,’ Hunter said warmly, indicating the sofa. ‘Why don’t we all have a seat?’
Again, she looked at him as if confused. ‘Don’t want no seat. Where’s Kevin?’
The baby girl started kicking her legs and flapping her arms. Hunter smiled at her again. ‘What’s her name?’
Anita looked down at her daughter with tender eyes and started rocking her. ‘Lilia.’
Another smile. ‘That’s a beautiful name. And she’s a beautiful baby, but because you’re upset she’s getting upset, see? Babies can sense these things better than anyone, especially from their mothers. If you have a seat, it will help Lilia feel more comfortable. And so will you.’
Anita hesitated.
‘Please.’ Hunter indicated the sofa again. ‘Just try it. You’ll see.’
Anita placed Lilia’s dummy in her mouth. ‘No llores, mi amor. Todo va a estar bien.’ The baby took the dummy and Anita finally took a seat. Hunter and Garcia took the armchairs.
Lilia settled into a comfortable position in her mother’s arms and closed her eyes.
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