Garcia laughed. ‘You should drop the scaring act. I already told you that. It’s not working. You’re not going to hurt me.’ He truly hoped that, out loud, he sounded more confident than he did in his head.
Russell looked to be frowning back at him. ‘Is that so, Detective? How do you figure?’
‘Because you’re not stupid,’ Garcia replied. ‘I’m a homicidedetective with the LAPD, investigating a case… your case. Do you think that I’ve been doing this all by myself?’ He paused, even though he knew that Russell wouldn’t answer his question. ‘It’s an official LAPD investigation. There are notes, files, reports… a whole map of discoveries that led me to you.’ Garcia shrugged. ‘All of a sudden, on the night that I attend a support-group meeting as part of the investigation, I disappear. What do you think is going to happen? My team is just going to go on as if everything was peachy?’
Russell let go of Garcia’s shirt and smiled. He was so close that Garcia could smell his acrid breath.
‘The LAPD doesn’t take too kindly to one of their own going missing. They’ll come after you with everything they’ve got – SWAT teams… SIS… cops… the works. How long do you think it will be before they come knocking?’
This time, Garcia paused for effect.
‘It’s over, Russell… Michael… Trevor… whatever name you want to use. You know it, and I know it. Right now, my whole team is going over all of my notes… all of my investigation files, following the same trail I did to get to you. I’m surprised they haven’t kicked your door in yet.’
Russell straightened up his body.
‘Your best bet is to put down the scalpel, cut me loose… and hand yourself in. Do that, and I can guarantee that they won’t shoot you dead. You’ll spend the rest of your life in prison, there’s no doubt about that, but at least you’ll be alive.’
Russell pretended to be thinking about it before sending a politician smile Garcia’s way.
‘You’re a good bullshitter, Detective,’ he said, as he began pacing in front of Garcia. ‘But not good enough.’
‘Is that so?’ Garcia came back. ‘How doyoufigure?’
‘How long do you think you’ve been down here for, Detective?’ Russell asked.
Garcia hesitated. ‘I don’t know. You tell me.’
‘I’ve kept you sedated for days,’ Russell revealed. ‘Observing… waiting… checking the news… and nothing. My door is still there… unkicked.’ He licked his lips slowly, while maintaining heavy eye contact with Garcia. ‘There’s no way anyone can track you, Detective, least of all back to me. I left your car at the school parking lot. Your gun and badge stayed in the glove compartment. Your phone, I left exactly where it landed. And before you try some new lie, I know that you didn’t text or call anyone after you checked my truck out because I was observing you.’
Garcia tried thinking of something to say back, but he had nothing.
‘There were no CCTV cameras on that school parking lot,’ Russell continued. ‘No recording of what happened… no one to witness me grabbing you. There’s no attendance sheet for the meetings. No names. No addresses. Nothing. So you see, Detective – no one can get to you because no one knows where you are. No one can get to me because no one knows who I am, and I’ve left nothing behind for anyone to track.’ He indicated his shaved head and eyebrows. ‘No hairs.’ He stepped closer and showed Garcia the tips of his fingers. The skin on them had been completely scarred by fire. ‘No fingerprints.’ He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for just a second. ‘I’m a ghost, Detective. They can’t get to a ghost.’
‘Well, I got to you, didn’t I?’ Garcia tried arguing back.
This time, Russell threw his head back and laughed loudly. ‘You had no clue who I was. In either of the two meetings.’
Two meetings?Garcia thought.What the hell is he talking about?
Garcia didn’t hide his surprise too well, because Russell picked up on it.
‘You still have no clue, do you?’ The pause that followed was anxious. ‘Well, allow me to enlighten you.’
Sixty
Before continuing, Russell walked back to the table of instruments and reached for the bottle of water. He undid its cap and took a swig straight from the bottle.
‘Thirsty?’ he asked Garcia.
‘Not anymore,’ Garcia replied.
‘Suit yourself.’ Russell shrugged and took another swig before finally explaining. ‘Monday evening support group in Westchester, a week ago. You were wearing blue jeans, a black T-shirt and white sneakers. I was sitting two chairs to your left. I was the second person to share with the group.’
That had been Garcia’s first ever support-group meeting.
He searched his memory and what he found baffled him because he remembered it well – only four out of the eight members had shared accounts with the group that evening – three men and one woman. The second person to share had been a tall and overweight man, with long scraggly hair, thin eyebrows and plump cheeks. He looked absolutely nothing like Russell, or Trevor.
Right then, Garcia couldn’t believe how stupid he had been. Hunter had warned him about the possibility of the killer disguising himself as he moved from group to group.