‘And that’s why I’ve called you here today,’ Dr. Hove said. ‘This man was tortured for days before he died. After his death, like Kay explained earlier, someone tried to mask his murder as a jumping suicide. Sound familiar?’
‘Familiar?’ Kay was unable to hide the excitement in her voice. ‘There’s been a similar case before?’
Dr. Hove’s gaze bounced over to Hunter for a second, who signaled no objection. ‘There are similarities to a body I examined just over two weeks ago,’ the doctor confirmed.
‘Tortured then a faked death?’ Kay pushed.
Dr. Hove voiced no reply, but Kay read her expression.
A moment of absolute silence followed, where Hunter and Garcia were clearly trying to get their thoughts in order.
‘So what was the actual cause of death?’ Garcia asked. ‘On the phone you said that it wasn’t hypothermia.’
‘Hypothermia?’ Kay questioned, wide-eyed. ‘In California… in June?’ A quick, unsure pause. ‘Was that the previous victim’sCOD? Hypothermia? Really?’ Her stare moved from person to person, but all she got was a quick shake of the head from her professor before Dr. Hove handed Hunter and Garcia her autopsy report.
‘The cause of death, once again, was heart failure. It gave away under the stress of the torture he suffered.’
Hunter looked down at the report in his hands before allowing his stare to return to the body. ‘Can you please send us everything you have on him, Doc?’
‘Of course.’
‘We’ll also need the biopsy result for his eyelid burns,’ Garcia added. ‘And a full toxicology report.’
‘I can email his files to you tonight,’ Dr. Hove replied. ‘The eyelid biopsy and the toxicology report will take a few days, as you well know.’
As Hunter and Garcia exited the pathology theater, Kay smiled proudly at Dr. Hove. She didn’t need any confirmation to know that, even before graduating, she had just stumbled upon her very first serial murder case.
Twenty
By the time Hunter got to his office at 8:00 a.m. the next day, Garcia was already pinning photos to their picture board. He had divided the board in two halves. The left side belonged to Shaun Daniels, while Terry Wilford’s photos occupied most of the opposite half.
‘Good morning,’ Hunter said, as he placed his jacket on the back of his chair and instinctively checked his watch. ‘What time did you get in?’
‘Not that long ago,’ Garcia replied, before driving Hunter’s attention to the last two photos he had pinned to the board. The first was a portrait of Terry Wilford – film casting style – the second was a full body shot of Terry in his bartender uniform – white, pristine long-sleeved shirt with a classic bowtie that matched his dark waistcoat. ‘OK, so Research has managed to expand a little on the basic report that Dr. Hove had received on Mr. Wilford.’ He grabbed a printout from his desk. ‘It’s still not a lot of info, but it will give us a start.’
‘OK.’ Hunter fired up his computer. ‘So what did they manage to come up with so far?’
‘Full name – Terry B. Wilford,’ Garcia read from the printout. ‘No one knows what the B. stands for. Born in Phoenix, Arizona, on November 1st, 1980, where he lived until the age of thirty-eight. That was when he moved to Los Angeles, where he’d beenliving for the past five years. His last listed address is an apartment in East LA – Wellington Heights.’
‘Married… girlfriend… partner?’ Hunter asked, as he keyed in his computer password.
Garcia’s eyes quickly scanned the printout. ‘Nothing about a present girlfriend or partner,’ he replied. ‘But back in Arizona hewasmarried for sixteen years to a Joana Suarez, who became Joana Wilford. She died five years ago – cancer.’
‘Is that why he moved to LA?’ Hunter asked, meeting Garcia’s stare. ‘Because his wife passed?’
Garcia searched the printout again. ‘Nothing on the report, but I’d say that the dates are a pretty good match. Mrs. Wilford died in March 2019. Five months later, in September that same year, Mr. Wilford relocated to LA.’
‘Any kids?’
‘One,’ Garcia nodded. ‘Joseph Thomas Wilford.’
‘Is he also in LA?’ Hunter asked.
Garcia flipped back a page then forward a page. ‘Again, it doesn’t say, but if he is, he didn’t live with his father.’
Hunter’s eyebrows rose at his partner.
‘According to this,’ Garcia clarified, ‘Terry Wilford lived alone in Wellington Heights.’
