‘Robert,’ Garcia said as he spotted his partner walking toward him.
‘What time did you get here?’ Hunter said, noticing his partner’s strawberry-pink-rimmed eyes.
‘Less than ten minutes ago, but I was awake when I got the call anyway.’
Hunter’s eyebrows arched.
‘I had zero sleep,’ Garcia explained and pointed to his head. ‘It’s like I’ve got a cinema in here. Now, guess which movie has been playing on my screen all night.’
Hunter said nothing. He was already looking past Garcia’s shoulder to the commotion around the third dumpster.
‘It’s our victim,’ Garcia said. ‘No doubt about it.’
Hunter stepped closer. The three officers nodded ‘good morning’, but no one said a word.
Mike Brindle, the forensics agent in charge, was kneeling down by the dumpster, collecting something from the ground with a tiny pair of tweezers. He paused and stood up when he saw Hunter.
‘Robert,’ he said with a nod. They’d worked together on more cases than they could remember.
Hunter returned the gesture, but his focus was on the naked male body on the ground. He was lying on his back, between the third and fourth dumpsters. His legs were stretched out. His right arm was by the side of the body, bent at the elbow. The left one was resting casually on his stomach.
Hunter felt his throat constrict a little as he looked at the man’s face.
There was none – no nose, no lips, no eyes. Even his teeth seemed to have rotted and corroded away. The eyeballs were still in their sockets, but they looked like punctured, half-full, silicone bags. In fact, the skin around his whole body seemed to have been sandpapered away. But the exposed flesh didn’t look red-raw. It had a pink-gray tone to it. Though shocking, it didn’t surprise Hunter that much. The alkaline bath had, in a way, cooked his flesh.
Hunter stepped a little closer.
The body had no fingernails or toenails left.
Despite the total disfigurement, Hunter had little doubt it was the same man they’d seen yesterday on their computer screens. When the man had finally died, his lifeless head fell forward, submerging his face into the alkaline mixture, but not his entire head. His short brown hair was almost intact.
‘He’s been dead for several hours,’ Brindle said. ‘The body is in full rigor mortis.’
‘Three twenty-six yesterday afternoon,’ Hunter said.
Brindle frowned at him.
‘He died at three twenty-six yesterday afternoon,’ Hunter repeated.
‘Do you know him?’
‘Not exactly.’ Hunter looked up. The three police officers nearby had moved back to the crime-scene tape. Hunter quickly gave Brindle a summary of what had happened the day before.
‘Jesus,’ Brindle said when Hunter was done. ‘That would explain the grotesque disfigurement to the body, and the odd change of color to his flesh.’ He shook his head, still shocked by what Hunter had just told him. ‘So you were not only made to watch, but he forced you to choose the death method as well?’
Hunter nodded in silence.
‘And you have the whole thing digitally recorded?’
‘Yes.’
With heavy eyes, Brindle looked down at the tortured body again. ‘I don’t understand this city, or the people in it anymore, Robert.’
‘I don’t think any of us do,’ Hunter replied.
‘How can anyone make sense of something like this?’
Hunter kneeled down to better examine the body. With the strong forensic light, every detail was visible. The smell was already crossing the line into putrid meat territory. Hunter used his left hand to cover his nose. He noticed little dents on the man’s feet, legs and arms. ‘What are these?’
‘Rat bites,’ Brindle said. ‘We had to scare a few off the body when we got here. There’s quite a bit of food in these dumpsters. This back alley services a bakery, a butcher’s shop and a small coffee shop stroke diner.’
Hunter nodded.
‘We’re going to sieve through most of the trash inside all four dumpsters in case the killer decided to discard something around here,’ Brindle said. ‘But after the story you told me, he doesn’t sound like he would be that careless.’
Hunter nodded again. His gaze moved over to the black man at the end of the alley. He was dressed in ripped and stained clothes, and wearing an old, colorless long coat that looked to have survived an attack from a pack of hungry wolves.
‘His name is Keon Lewis,’ Brindle offered. ‘He’s the one who found the body.’
Hunter stood up, ready to go ask some questions.
‘Good luck with that,’ Brindle said. ‘You know how homeless people love talking to the cops.’
Hunter approached Keon and the officer standing by his side. Keon looked up, but again quickly averted his gaze. He rubbed his hands together like a cook seasoning a dish.
His lips were dry and cracked, and he kept on blinking as if he were wearing old, dry contact lenses. The physical signs all pointed to crystal meth addiction. He could’ve been in his thirties, forties, fifties or early twenties. Hunter doubted Keon knew himself.
‘Keon?’ Hunter said. ‘I’m Detective Robert Hunter with the Homicide Division.’
Keon gave him a tense nod but still kept his eyes low.
The officer stepped away, giving Hunter and Keon some privacy.
‘Listen,’ Hunter said in a calm, non-patronizing voice. ‘There’s no need for you to be nervous. No one is here to hassle you, I promise. Unfortunately you were unlucky enough to find the body of a homicide victim. My job is to ask you a few questions, that’s all. After that, you’re free to go.’
Keon scratched his beard again.
Hunter could tell that his face had once been kind and attractive, but drug abuse, alcohol and a life lived well below the poverty line had transformed it into something very different.
‘OK if I sit down?’
Keon scooted over to the edge of the step. His clothes stank of stale sweat and garbage.
Hunter sat down and let out a deep breath. ‘This is some messed-up stuff, isn’t it?’
‘Shiiit, man, that is real fucked up.’ His voice croaked as if he had a sore throat. ‘What the fuck happen to him, man? Someone skinned him?’
‘You really don’t want to know,’ Hunter said.
Keon picked at the loose skin at the back of his hand, twisting it painfully, as if trying to tear it off before going quiet for a moment. ‘Say, man, you don’t have a smoke, do you? I’m shaking like a bitch.’
‘I’ll get you one.’ Hunter motioned the officer to come closer and whispered something in his ear. The officer nodded and took off toward the other end of the alleyway.
‘This is a very quiet street,’ Hunter said. ‘Do you come here a lot?’
‘Sometimes. If I’m close enough,’ Keon replied, giving Hunter a sequence of quick nods. ‘That’s the reason I come here, you know what I’m sayin’? Because it’s quiet. You don’t have to fight to get a spot to crash. And sometimes you get some good food from the dumpsters, you dig? The food shops throw things away that you wouldn’t believe, man.’ Keon smiled a mouth full of decaying teeth. ‘You have to fight off the rats, but, hey, it’s free.’
Hunter gave him a sympathetic nod. ‘Can you run me through what happened when you got here?’
‘Oh man, I already told the cops everything.’
‘I understand, and I know it’s a pain in the ass. But it has to be done, Keon.’
The police officer returned with a pack of cigarettes and a box of matches and handed them to Keon. He quickly tapped one out, lit it up and took a drag so long the officer thought he would smoke the whole thing in one breath.
Hunter waited for him to exhale. ‘You can keep the pack.’
Keon wasted no time in placing it inside his right coat pocket.
‘So, can you tell me how you came across the body?’
Keon shrugged. ‘Sure.’
‘Do you know what time it was when you got here?’
Another shrug. Keon pulled back his left sleeve and showed Hunter his naked wrist. ‘My Rolex is in the shop.’
The corner of Hunter’s mouth curled up slightly. ‘Could you take a guess? Were all the shops already closed?’
‘Oh yeah, y’all. It was late, man. Long past midnight. I walked all the way from Panorama City, and it took me a while ’cos I’ve got a bad foot, you know what I mean?’ Keon pointed down to his left foot. He was wearing a dirty old leather Nike sneaker. There was a large hole on the left side where Hunter could see two of his toes. The shoe on the right foot was a black Converse All Stars.
‘Cops don’t never come down here, you know what I mean?’ Keon continued. ‘So you never get poked or kicked while you’re sleeping and told to move on. You can get a good few hours of sleep back here, and don’t nobody bother you, you dig?’
Hunter nodded. ‘So what happened?’
Keon took another drag, let the smoke out through his nose and nervously watched it dance in front of his face for a while. ‘I never saw him until I got real close. The alley was dark, you dig? I came up to the first dumpster and checked inside. It’s usually the one with the best food because the bakery dumps their scraps in there. I got me a nice piece of cornbread.’ As he said that, a thunderous rumble came from Keon’s stomach. He ignored it and took another drag of his cigarette. ‘But before I could have a bite of any of it, I saw this pair of legs sticking out from behind one of the dumpsters. I thought it was just another brother crashing out, you know what I mean? There’s enough space here for more than one, you dig?’
Hunter was attentively observing Keon’s movements and expressions. His hands had begun shaking again once he started telling his story. The croak in his voice had worsened a touch. His eyes had trouble focusing anywhere for too long – a symptom of drug dependency – but the jitter in them was genuine fear.
‘I thought maybe it was Tobby or Tyrek,’ Keon continued. ‘They crash here every once in a while too. But when I got close—’ Keon scratched his beard as if it were burning his face. ‘Holy shit, man, what happened to him?’ His scared eyes met Hunter’s. ‘He’s got no face. He’s got no skin.’ He finished his cigarette in one massive drag and stubbed it out under his shoe. ‘I’ve seen a lot of crazy shit in my life, y’all. I’ve seen a few dead bodies too, but that—’ his head jerked toward the dumpsters ‘—that’s the devil’s work, man.’
‘Was he covered?’ Hunter asked. ‘By newspapers, or a piece of cloth, or something?’
‘Nah, y’all. He was just lying there like a big piece of gooey meat, you know what I’m sayin’? Scared the shit out of me, man. Even the rats were half scared of it.’
‘Did you see anybody else around?’ Hunter asked.
‘Hell no. The alley was empty.’
‘Any cars parked close by, maybe around the entrance to the alleyway?’
Keon paused, his brow furrowed a little and he ran his tongue over his cracked bottom lip.
‘Was there a car around?’
‘Well, when I came around the corner, a truck was backing up from the alley.’
‘A truck?’
‘Yep, more like a pickup truck, you know the type? But it wasn’t open-back. It had a hardtop over the back box.’
‘Did you notice what type of truck it was?’
‘Nah, man. I wasn’t that close. As I said, I had just turned the corner when I saw the truck backing up and taking off.’
‘How about color?’
Keon thought back for a second. ‘It was a dark truck. Maybe black or blue. Hard to say from a distance. The lighting around here ain’t that good, you know what I’m sayin’? But there was a big dent on the back fender. I remember that.’
‘A dent? Are you sure?’
‘Um-huh. I saw it as the truck backed up from the alley, on the driver’s side.’
‘How big a dent?’
‘Big enough for me to see it from that far.’
Hunter took some notes. ‘Did you get to see the driver at all?’
‘Nah, y’all. Dark windows.’
‘Could you tell if the truck was old or new?’
Keon shook his head. ‘I can’t really say, but I don’t think it was an old truck.’
Hunter nodded. ‘OK, let’s move on. So what did you do when you saw the body on the ground? Did you touch it at all?’
‘Touch it?’ Keon’s eyes went wide. ‘Are you high, man? Can I have some? Keon ain’t no fool, y’all. I didn’t know what was wrong with the stiff. It could be a sickness or somin’. Some weird shit like “AIDS of the skin” or some new disease created by the government, you know what I mean? Like an experiment or somin’. Either that or the devil really is walking the streets, skinning motherfuckers, erasing their faces and dumping them in back alleys.’ Keon reached for another cigarette. ‘No, man, I didn’t touch no dead body. I just dropped everything and got the fuck out of here, grabbed a payphone out in the streets and dialed 911.’
‘You dialed 911 as soon as you saw the body?’
‘That’s right, y’all.’
Keon’s stomach roared again. He lit up his cigarette, took another long drag and paused, looking a little hesitant. Hunter noticed it.
‘Something else, Keon?’
‘Well, I thought that maybe . . . you know . . . there was some sort of reward, or somin’. I did good, didn’t I? Calling y’all down here? Remembering the truck and all.’
‘Yes, Keon, you did good, but there’s no reward. I’m sorry.’
‘Oh, c’mon, man. Nothin’?’
Hunter gave him a slight headshake.
‘Shiiit, man. That ain’t fair. Couldn’t you help a brother out with somin’? I could do with a little help, you know what I’m sayin’?’
Another loud, longer rumbling of his stomach.
‘When was the last time you had a proper meal, Keon?’
‘You mean a full meal?’
Hunter nodded.
Keon chewed his lips for a moment. ‘Not for some time, man.’
‘OK, look. I’m not going to give you any money, but if you’re hungry—’ Hunter nodded at Keon’s stomach ‘—and I can hear you are, breakfast is on me. How about that?’
Keon scratched both sides of his beard while chewing his lips again. ‘C’mon, y’all. Just twenty bucks, man. Twenty bucks is nothing for y’all.’
‘No money, Keon, sorry.’
‘Ten, then. You can spare a brother ten bucks, can’t you?’
‘Breakfast, Keon. That’s the best I can do.’
Keon looked down at his hands, considering. ‘Can I have hot pancakes?’
Hunter smiled. ‘Yes, you can have hot pancakes.’
Keon nodded. ‘Yeah, breakfast sounds good, y’all.’
Thirteen
Despite having the body, Hunter and Garcia were no closer to finding the victim’s identity. His entire skin had dissolved in the alkaline solution, and that meant no fingerprints, no identifying tattoos or birthmarks, if there were any, and absolutely no facial features. DNA analyses would take a few days, but even then they would only have a match if the victim’s DNA had been archived into CODIS, the FBI’s Combined DNA Index System, and for that to have happened the victim would’ve had to have been previously convicted of a felony offense such as sexual assault or homicide – a very long shot. They were also still waiting for any news from the Missing Persons Unit.