Free I Am Death by Chris Carter Page A

it. It marked the spot where Nicole Wilson’s body had been found. The second placard – 2 – was located not too far from where Hunter and Garcia
stood, about fifteen feet in from the road. From the report they’d read, Hunter and Garcia knew that it indicated where forensics had found depressions on the grass – probably caused by
a heavy vehicle, like an SUV, probably the one used by the killer. But the depressions were on grass, not dirt or mud, which meant that forensics had been unable to obtain any tire tracks. The best
they could do, if they were correct in their assumption, was to identify where the killer had parked.
    As both detectives started walking toward evidence placard number 1, an Airbus 320 took to the skies from runway 7R. Garcia cringed at the deafening sound, bringing his hands up to cover his
ears.
    The two officers who were standing by the tree, shading themselves from the sun, turned to face the detectives.
    Hunter and Garcia would have preferred to view the body
in situ,
but since they had only been handed the case several hours after the body had been discovered, they had to content
themselves with the photographs taken by the CSI team, and the odd, star-like shape created by white tape that forensics had used to outline the body’s exact position on the ground.
    Despite the tape, Hunter retrieved a photo from the folder Garcia had with him, went down on his haunches and placed it on the grass, right at the center of the white outline.
    Garcia squatted down next to him.
    Nicole’s body had been left with her extended right arm pointing west, in a straight line with the lone leafy tree. Her right leg pointed southwest. Consequently, her left arm and leg
pointed east and southeast respectively. Her head pointed north.
    Hunter’s eyes flicked from the picture to the tree and the surrounding vegetation several times.
    Garcia ran his palm against the grass around him. Despite it being untreated, it wasn’t very high – about two to three inches long, maybe four in some places. It felt dry, which was
understandable because Los Angeles had seen nothing but cloudless skies and a beating sun for the past two weeks. Not a drop of rain.
    ‘There’s no give on the ground whatsoever,’ Garcia said, his fingers still moving back and forth on the grass. ‘That’s why forensics got no footprints
anywhere.’
    Across the road at LAX, another airplane approached and touched down.
    Garcia stood up, his eyes searching the vicinity once again. Something didn’t sit right with him.
    ‘Why would the killer dump her body right on this spot?’ he asked.
    He was facing west, looking at the leafy tree. There were dense clusters of trees north, south and further west, past the lonely tree. Pershing Drive and the airport were east, directly behind
him.
    ‘I was just asking myself that same question,’ Hunter said.
    ‘The killer clearly wasn’t attempting to hide the body,’ Garcia added. ‘Just look around. There are thicker clusters of trees just about everywhere on this field. He
could’ve hidden the body behind any of them. Why place it here, in the most exposed spot there is? Plus, this guy was arrogant enough to write us a note just to tell us his chosen name
– DEATH. And I say “us” because he knew the note would be found during the autopsy examination. Not to mention the whole role-playing abduction game that he played with the
victim. This guy’s got an ego, Robert, and it’s a big one. He’s confident, seemingly intelligent and knowledgeable. He knows it, and he wants us to know it as well. If such a
person wanted to hide a body, he wouldn’t dump in a city field. He would’ve simply made it disappear. No traces. No witnesses. Nothing. He dumped the body here because he wanted it
found.’
    Hunter agreed with a nod. ‘But something still isn’t right,’ he said.
    Garcia looked around again.
    ‘One thing we know,’ Hunter continued, ‘is that perpetrators who place