Jessie Hunt 13-The Perfect Impression by Blake Pierce (ebook reader online free .txt) 📗

to hismedicine cabinet mirror. When the cops got there, they found a woman who had beenkilled using an X-Acto knife. She had her skin peeled off like long ribbons offlesh. It was never officially attributed to the Night Hunter and I haven’tfound a similar case anywhere in the country until these two.”

“So you think this Night Hunter is back?” Trembley asked. “Wouldn’t hebe collecting social security right now? He has to be pushing seventy.”

“Probably well past it,” Ryan corrected, “at least based on Garland’sestimate from their fight. And I’m not sure it’s even him. Maybe he had aprotégé he was grooming to take over.”

“Who didn’t commit a crime for almost twenty years?” Jamil askedskeptically.

“Or it could be a copycat,” Ryan offered. “Someone who recently gotaccess to a copy of the same document I saw and was inspired. It’s not unheardof. Bolton Crutchfield studied other serial killers for inspiration, includingJessie’s father. If someone else was equally infatuated with the Night Hunter,maybe they stumbled across this detail. It would be like gold to them.”

“Or maybe the simplest explanation is the best,” Trembley suggested. “TheNight Hunter got amnesia from hitting his head after jumping out of Garland’s condoand only recovered his memory recently. Now he’s picking up where he left off.”

“That’s the simplest explanation?” Jamil asked incredulously,trying not to laugh.

“Whoever it is,” Ryan said, not deigning to address Trembley’s theory, “Iworry that they’re not done.”

“And that’s why you don’t want to tell Decker,” Jamil said quietly.

“What do you mean?” Trembley asked.

Ryan could tell Jamil had put his finger on it and considered trying tostop him from revealing the truth. But he didn’t do it. Trembley was anintegral part of Homicide Special Section and he deserved to know what wasgoing on.

“HSS is on the ropes,” Jamil whispered. “With Mr. Moses’s murder, Ms.Hunt’s departure, and Detective Hernandez’s rehabilitation, the unit has beenshorthanded. As a result, fewer major cases have been closed. It’s obvious thatHQ has taken notice. If Captain Decker thought we had a chance to nail one ofthe most notorious serial killers of the last half century, who was operatingright here in L.A., it might be hard for him to keep that to himself,especially if it could save the unit.”

“Is that true?” Trembley asked Ryan.

“It’s a concern,” he admitted, “which is why I don’t want to involvehim until we have more to go on. That means we need to start reviewing thefootage Jamil has cued up.”

“Well, I hope it is the Night Hunter,” Trembley said, choosingnot to linger on what he’d just learned. “It would be a lot easier to take downsome old dude trying to escape using a walker.”

“Don’t underestimate him,” Ryan cautioned. “If it is him, he’s killedcountless people and managed to evade capture for over thirty-five years. Evenif he’s less mobile than I am right now, he’s a threat. Forget that at your ownrisk.”

*

At first they didn’t even know what they were looking for. But after anhour of fruitless scrolling through multiple video feeds they found something.

“Look!” Jamil said, pointing at Ring video footage culled from a homeacross the street from Jenavieve Holt. It showed her speaking to an older manon the night of her death. It was dark out and the video was grainy, but theman’s hunched frame and slow movements suggested he was in his twilight years.The view of her door was blocked so they never actually saw him enter herplace, but it was the logical conclusion.

“With that large windbreaker on,” Trembley noted, “it’s impossible todiscern many notable characteristics. I think he was holding what looked like asmall travel bag, but that’s about it.”

Even when he reappeared outside her door hours later and shuffled outof frame, they couldn’t make out any useful details. Ryan did notice one thing,however.

“Check that out,” he said, noting that a few seconds after the man leftthe screen, a dim, red light appeared on the street.

“What do you think it is?” Trembley asked.

“I can’t be sure, but based on how low the light is to the street and thewattage, it might come from a car’s brake light. If so, that suggests that theman had driven there rather than walking or getting a rideshare or cab.”

“It’s not much,” Trembley muttered. “But I guess it’s something.”

Ryan didn’t say it out loud, but he was starting to suspect that it wasmuch more than “just something.” The man in the footage was older, evenelderly. The time the image was taken matched when Jenavieve Holt was killed.It wasn’t a straight line yet, but the chances that this was anyone other thanthe original Night Hunter were getting more remote with each passing second.

He said nothing. That was partly because he didn’t want to jump the gunand make assumptions the evidence couldn’t yet confirm. But it was also becausehe almost didn’t want to believe it. If this was the work of a serial killerwho had been in hibernation for decades, that was something new. A killerwilling to patently lie in wait for years was somehow more troubling to himthan one on a rampage.

He returned his attention to Jamil’s monitors. It looked like theresearcher had a little more luck with the first victim, the young man namedJared Hartung. There was no footage from nearby houses showing his place duringthe approximate time of death. But Jamil had found video from a houseabout half a block down, earlier that night.

In it, an old man parked an older model sedan on the street before scufflingoff in the direction of Hartung’s place. He returned to the car three hourslater, still hobbled but with what Ryan could only describe as extra pep in hisstep, like he’d just done something that had him in a playful mood.

“Any chance you can get a license plate off the car?” he asked Jamil.

“Not from this angle,” the young researcher said, frustrated. “But Ihave another idea.”

“What’s that?” Trembley wondered, leaning in so close that Ryan couldsmell the aloe vera he’d rubbed on his burned skin.

Jamil’s fingers flew across the keys as he typed a series ofinstructions into the system that Ryan couldn’t pretend