The Crucifix Killer Read Free Page A

sorry. And I feel like an asshole now.’
    ‘So you should.’
    ‘Believe me, I do.’
    Her eyes were fixed on Hunter. He sounded sincere.
    ‘Anyway, if I were a hooker, judging by your underwear and clothes I don’t think you’d be able to afford me.’
    ‘Ooh. That was low punch. I was already embarrassed enough without you mentioning it.’
    She smiled.
    Hunter was glad his back-paddling had worked. ‘Do you mind if I make myself a quick cup of coffee before I go?’
    ‘I don’t have any coffee, only tea, but you are more than welcome to it if you like. The kitchen is just down the hall.’
    ‘Tea? I think I’ll pass. I need something stronger to wake me up.’ He finished buttoning up his shirt.
    ‘You sure you can’t stay?’ She pulled the covers back revealing her naked form. Great curves, nicely formed breasts and there was no hair anywhere on her body. ‘Maybe you could show me how really sorry you are for calling me a hooker.’
    Hunter stood there for a moment as if debating what to do. He bit his bottom lip and shook the thought from his head. His headache reminded him not to do that again.
    ‘I promise you, if I could stay, I would.’ He was now fully dressed and ready to go.
    ‘I understand. Was that your wife on the phone?’
    ‘What? No, I’m not married. That was work, trust me.’ The last thing Hunter wanted was for her to think he was a cheating husband.
    ‘OK,’ she said matter-of-factly.
    Hunter’s eyes ran the length of her body once again and he felt an exciting tingle. ‘If you give me your number, maybe we could meet up again sometime.’
    She studied him for a long moment.
    ‘You’re thinking I won’t bother to call right?’ Hunter said sensing her reluctance.
    ‘Oh, you read minds as well? That’s a neat party trick.’
    ‘You should see what I can do with a deck of cards.’
    They both smiled.
    ‘Plus, there’s nothing I like more than proving people wrong.’
    She reached for the notepad on her bedside table with a smirk on her face.
    Hunter took the piece of paper from her hand and kissed her right cheek. ‘I gotta go.’
    ‘That will be one thousand dollars, babe!’ she said gently running her fingers over his lips.
    ‘What?’ he asked with a shocked look. ‘But . . .’
    She was already smiling back at him. ‘Sorry. I couldn’t resist after you called me a hooker.’
    Outside her apartment Hunter unfolded the piece of paper in his hand. Isabella! Sexy name, he thought. He searched the street for his old Buick Lesabre. The car was nowhere to be seen.
    ‘Shit! I was too drunk to drive,’ he cursed himself before flagging down the first cab he saw.
    *
    The directions Garcia had given him took Hunter to the middle of nowhere. Little Tujunga Canyon Road, in Santa Clarita, is eighteen miles long running from Bear Divide to Foothill Boulevard in Lakeview Terrace. Almost all of it is within the Angeles National Forest. At times the woodland and mountain views are simply breathtaking. Garcia’s directions were precise and soon the taxi was driving down a tiny, bumpy, dirt road surrounded by hills, bushes and rough terrain. The darkness and nothingness was overwhelming. Twenty minutes later they finally came to an uneven lane that led up to an old wooden house.
    ‘I guess this is it,’ Hunter said handing the driver all the money in his pocket.
    The lane was long and narrow, just wide enough to fit a standard-size car. Surrounding it were dense, impassable shrubs. Police and official vehicles were crammed everywhere making it look like a traffic jam in a desert.
    Garcia was standing in front of the wooden shack talking to an agent from the crime lab, both of them holding flashlights. Hunter had to negotiate his way through the carnival of cars before joining them.
    ‘Jesus, talk about a place out of the way – any further and we’d be in Mexico . . . Hi there, Peter,’ Hunter said, nodding at the crime lab agent.
    ‘Rough night, Robert? You look just like