Hunter said nothing.

‘I heard you went to Stanford University on a scholarship and flew through their curriculum as well. You got your PhD in Criminal Behavior Analysis and Biopsychology when you were twenty-three.’

Still silence.

‘Now that’s impressive, even for a Mirman student. My father used to say that you’d probably become the President of the United States someday, or a scholar of some kind. Definitely someone famous.’ She shifted her weight from leg to leg. ‘But I guess you preferred the thrill of chasing psychopaths, huh?’

No answer.

‘You also passed on five invitations to join the FBI. But your PhD thesis paper became, and still is, mandatory reading at their NCAVC.’ She paused and looked at Hunter’s graduation photo again. ‘When I left Mirman, I went to MIT.’

Most people would’ve said those words with a massive injection of pride. The Massachusetts Institute of Technology is the most prestigious and famous research university in the USA, and probably the world. Alice seemed almost embarrassed.

‘I’ve got a PhD in Electrical Engineering and Computer Science.’

‘I guess you preferred the thrill of working as a research specialist for the Los Angeles DA, huh?’ Hunter said.

Alice chuckled. ‘Touché. The truth is I got tired of hacking into systems for the government. That’s who I worked for before.’

‘Special branch?’

It was Alice’s turn to be silent. Hunter didn’t push.

‘Don’t kid yourself,’ he said. ‘You still work for the government.’

‘I guess I do,’ she admitted. ‘But the cause is different.’

‘More noble?’

She hesitated for an instant. ‘I guess you can say that.’

‘But you’re still hacking into systems,’ Hunter challenged.

Alice tilted her head to one side in a subtle but charming way. ‘Sometimes. And I’m sorry. That’s how I know so much about you. And about what you did after you left Mirman. When DA Bradley told me I’d be working with a homicide detective named Robert Hunter, all these memories from Mirman came rushing back into my head. I just had to find out what you’d been up to since then.’

‘You hacked into the FBI database?’ Hunter asked. He knew the fact that he’d passed on precisely five invitations to join the FBI wasn’t exactly free information.

‘Not all their files are kept under the most secure encryption algorithms,’ Alice said. ‘In fact, very few are. Getting into any system isn’t that hard if you know what you’re doing. Once inside, it’s just a question of knowing how to navigate.’

‘And my guess is that you are a pretty good navigator.’

Alice shrugged. ‘We’re all good at something.’

Hunter finished his Scotch. ‘How’s your father?’

Her eyes went sad. ‘He’s not with us anymore.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that.’

‘It was ten years ago, but thank you.’ Her gaze moved to a new picture frame – Hunter as a young kid, maybe ten or eleven years old, she thought. Shorts, skinny legs, white T-shirt, ultra-skinny arms, and straight hair that was way too long. Just like she remembered him. ‘You used to be geeky, and as thin as a stickman. Your nickname was . . .’

‘Toothpick,’ Hunter helped her.

‘That’s right. Gosh you bulked up like the Hulk.’ Her eyes settled on his pecs. ‘What do you bench press, the whole gym?’

Hunter said nothing.

‘You know,’ Alice said, with a slight head movement, ‘I’m not surprised by your decision to become a police officer.’

‘And why is that?’

Alice had a slow sip of her beer. ‘Because you always liked defending and helping people.’

Hunter looked uncertain.

‘My best male friend in school was a kid called Steve MacKay. Do you remember him? Thick glasses, blonde curly hair, even thinner and shyer than you were. In school they called him Loose Noodle.’

Hunter nodded. ‘Yes, I remember him.’

‘Do you remember defending him after school one day?’

No answer.

‘He was walking back to his house just a couple of blocks away from Mirman. These three bigger street kids turned up and started pushing him around. They wanted to take his new tennis shoes and whatever money he had on him. You came out of nowhere, punched one of them in the face, and told Steve to run.’

‘Yeah, I remember,’ Hunter said after a brief silence.

Alice smiled awkwardly. ‘They beat the living hell out of you. What were you thinking, that you could take on three bigger and stronger kids just like that?’

‘It worked. The plan was to get their attention away from the small kid so he could get away.’

‘And then what?’

Hunter looked away. ‘OK, I agree. The plan wasn’t well thought through, but it still worked. I knew I could take the beating. I didn’t think the other kid could.’

Alice’s new smile was full of tenderness. ‘Steve hid behind a car and watched everything. He said you just wouldn’t stay down. They’d beat you to the floor, you’d get up. They’d beat you down again, you’d get up again, bleeding and all. Steve said that after the fourth or fifth time, the bigger kids just gave up and walked away.’

‘I’m glad they did. I don’t know how much more I could’ve taken.’ Hunter turned his head, showing Alice his left ear, and folding its top half down. ‘This scar is from that beating. They almost tore my ear off.’

Alice looked at the lumpy scar that contoured Hunter’s ear. ‘You were in your senior year and you took a hell of a beating for someone you barely knew. A kid two grades below you. I really don’t know anyone else who would’ve done that.’

Hunter went silent, and Alice couldn’t tell if he was embarrassed or not.

‘You know,’ she finally said. ‘Despite the fact that you were geeky, skinny as hell, and dressed like a rock-and-roll reject on a bad day, a lot of girls in Mirman had a crush on you.’

‘Did you?’ Hunter pinned her down with an interrogating stare.

Alice bit her bottom lip and looked away. ‘I guess you’re right. We both need to get some sleep.’ She finished the rest of her beer in one long gulp, grabbed her briefcase and crossed to the door.

‘I’ll see you in the office,’ Hunter said.

Alice’s reply was a simple smile.

Thirty-Four

Captain Blake was standing next to Garcia, her mouth half-open, her unflinching gaze welded to the shadow images on the wall. This was the first time she had seen them.

‘This can’t be serious,’ she said after a long silence.

Garcia said nothing.

‘You’re telling me that some maniac killer out there broke into a Los Angeles prosecutor’s home, butchered him into pieces, bundled his severed body parts together to create some godforsaken artifact, just so he could cast a shadow puppet of a dog and a bird onto the wall?’

‘It’s a coyote and a raven,’ Hunter said as he entered the room. He’d managed just a little over four hours of sleep, which for him was as good as it got.

‘What?’ Captain Blake turned and faced him. ‘What the hell are you talking about, Robert? And does it matter what species they are?’

‘Good morning to you too, Captain.’

She indicated the replica sculpture, and then the shadow puppets on the wall. ‘Does that look like a good morning to anyone?’

‘A coyote and a raven?’ Garcia asked, his eyes narrowing at the shadow puppets.

Hunter took off his jacket and fired up his computer.

‘How did you find that out?’ Garcia insisted.

‘I didn’t. Alice did.’

As if on cue, Alice Beaumont pushed the door open and stepped into the office. Her hair was back in the same slick ponytail she had the day before, but this time the look was complemented by an expensive-looking pair of designer sunglasses. She was wearing an impeccably fitted light gray suit with a white charmeuse blouse and a dainty white gold necklace.