Chapter Two

Thirty-two days later

Located on the fifth level of the famous Police Administration Building in Downtown LA, the LAPD's Ultra Violent Crimes Unit's office sat at the far end of the Robbery Homicide Division's floor. Even though it was named a ‘unit', Ultra Violent Crimes was composed of only two detectives: Robert Hunter – the head of the unit – and his partner, Carlos Garcia. They were both just about to exit their office when Barbara Blake, the division's captain, appeared at their door.

‘Going somewhere?' she asked. Her long jet-black hair was elegantly styled into a bun, pinned in place by a pair of metal chopsticks. She wore a silky white blouse, tucked into a well-cut, navy-blue pencil skirt. Her flat-heel shoes were black and shiny, with a silver detail at their tip.

‘Just about to go grab some lunch,' Garcia replied, instinctively checking his watch. It was a quarter past two in the afternoon. ‘Why, Captain? What's up?' he asked, quickly noticing the yellow folder that Captain Blake had with her. Usually, investigations assigned to the UVC Unit came either in a black or dark-gray folder.

‘I wanted you two to have a quick look at something for me,' the captain replied, stepping into the office and closing the door behind her.

‘Sure,' Hunter said, standing up to meet her. ‘What is it?'

‘It's an autopsy report,' Captain Blake explained, handing a copy of the report to each detective.

‘Linked to which case?' Hunter asked.

‘At the moment, to a traffic incident,' the captain replied.

Hunter and Garcia both frowned at her.

‘About forty-five minutes ago,' Captain Blake clarified, ‘I got a call from Dr. Hove. She had just finished a post-mortem examination on a Shaun Daniels, forty-six years old and a resident in Lomita. His body was found by the side of Lake Hughes Road in the Sierra Pelona Mountains, victim of an apparent hit-and-run.'

‘A hit-and-run?' Garcia asked, flipping open the report. Hunter did the same.

‘An apparent hit-and-run.' Captain Blake re-emphasized the word as she nodded at the files in their hands. ‘Just have a look at it and tell me what you think.'

‘Well,' Garcia said, even before he started reading the file. ‘If the LA County Chief Medical Examiner called the LAPD Robbery Homicide Division's captain with an apparent hit-and-run, something clearly didn't sit right with her at the autopsy.'

Captain Blake lifted her hands in a surrender gesture. ‘Like I've said – have a look at it and let me know what you think.' She pulled a chair in front of Hunter's desk and took a seat.

Garcia's eyes widened at her. ‘What, like right now?'

Silence.

‘But lunch…'

Captain Blake sat back on her chair, crossed one leg over the other, and calmly rested her hands on her knees before glaring back at Garcia.

‘…can clearly wait.' He finished his sentence, leaning back against the edge of his desk. His tone carried no enthusiasm.

Hunter had already begun reading the file, which started with an occurrence sheet from the LAPD Valley Traffic Division.

The body had been discovered four days ago, in the early hours of the morning, by Marcus Stamford and his son Julian as they drove up Lake Hughes Road in the direction of their favorite fishing spot in the Castaic Lake. At around 5:10 a.m., about 150 yards past the entrance to the community church, heading north, both father and son spotted what looked to be a body by the side of the road – one that didn't look like an animal. Concerned, Mr. Stamford stopped the car and went to check. That was when he discovered the lifeless body of an adult male, who looked to have been run over by a vehicle. Mr. Stamford then proceeded to call 911.

The LA County Sheriff's Department was first at the scene, quickly followed by an ambulance and Detective William Sharp, from the LAPD Valley Traffic Division.

Hunter flipped a page on the report and studied the scene photographs. There were twenty-six in total. The first eight were of the body in full, taken from various angles. The next twelve were close-up shots, detailing the severity of the injuries that the body had sustained. There was an exposed fracture to the right wrist and one to the right tibia, where the bone had even protruded through the fabric of his black trousers. His left shoulder and clavicle were visibly dislocated and broken, and there were lacerations to his face, head, arms, legs and hands, with the skin having been scraped at places.

The final six photographs showed the road, mainly concentrating on the tire skid marks that were clearly visible against the asphalt. There were four of them, with all four showing just as prominently. That, together with the gap between the front and the rear skid marks, indicated that the vehicle that had hit Shaun Daniels had almost certainly been a four-wheel-drive pickup truck. One of the photographs showed measurements done against the skid marks – the ones created by the front wheels were both around four and a half feet long, the rear ones just a couple of inches shorter.

According to Detective Sharp, the position and the distance of the body in relation to the skid marks was consistent with a hit-and-run accident where the victim was struck by a vehicle traveling at a speed somewhere between forty and fifty miles per hour. The brakes seemed to have been initiated just a fraction of a second before the fatal collision, indicating that the vehicle's driver did not see the pedestrian until it was way too late. Upon impact, the victim was thrown over the vehicle's hood, made contact with the windshield and was projected forward and to the right, landing back on the road.

‘My first question here is,' Garcia said, flipping back and forth on the report for an instant. ‘What was the victim doing up in the mountains at that time in the morning?'

‘Fishing, maybe?' Captain Blake speculated. ‘Hiking?'

‘You would've thought so, right?' Garcia came back. ‘But there's no mention, or photos, of anything else found by the side of the road – no backpack, no bag, no cases, no fishing rod… nothing.' He shrugged. ‘Yes, there are quite a few fishing spots around where the body was found – near the picnic area. But even if he was there hiking, fishing, or having a lonely picnic in the dark, what was he doing crossing the road all the way at the top? What I mean is – the picnic areas and the fishing spots are well away from Lake Hughes Road.'

‘Good question,' Captain Blake agreed.

‘His station wagon was found parked down a dirt road, not that far from where the body was found,' Hunter said, reading from the report. ‘It doesn't say anything about a picnic basket, a bag, a backpack, a fishing rod… nothing.'

‘Was his cellphone found?' Garcia queried.

Hunter flipped back and forth on the report for a moment. ‘There's no mention of it, so probably not.'

‘So the theory here would be what?' Garcia asked. ‘He drives up there, parks his car, goes for a stroll and gets hit by a truck, which then flees the scene?' His eyebrows arched at Captain Blake.

‘Suicide?' she asked, but her tone carried no conviction.

‘No.' Garcia shook his head, a gesture that was reciprocated by Hunter. ‘He lived in Lomita, Captain. If the plan had been to kill himself by stepping in front of oncoming traffic, then why drive all the way to a quiet road up in the Sierra Pelona Mountains, when he had the super-busy Pacific Coast Highway right at his doorstep. This wasn't suicide; if it was, it wasn't a planned one, that's for sure.'

Captain Blake agreed with a nod. ‘I just wanted to make sure that we had covered as many possibilities as we could—'

‘Before suggesting murder,' Hunter said, anticipating where the captain was going.

The captain angled her head slightly left, as her perfectly drawn eyebrows arched at her detectives. ‘Please, read on.'

Hunter and Garcia both moved on to the autopsy report. In it, Dr. Hove had confirmed that most of the injuries to the body, especially the exposed fractures to the right wrist and lower right leg, were consistent with a pedestrian being struck by a moving vehicle at speed.

Hunter paused for a moment and quickly went back to the photos of the body in full. One of them had been taken from a distance, where the body and all four skid marks were visible. Something in that image got the gears in his brain turning just a little faster, but his thought process was quickly interrupted by Garcia, who had jumped straight to the final page of the report to check on the cause of death.

‘What? Is this right?'

His eyes shot to Captain Blake.

‘COD?' she asked.

Garcia nodded.

‘Dr. Hove was one hundred percent certain,' the captain confirmed.

Hunter flipped over to the last page and paused. ‘Hypothermia?' Doubt coated the word as it came out of his lips. ‘Are you telling me that this guy froze to death?'

‘Not me,' Captain Blake replied. ‘The report is.'

‘In California?' Garcia asked. ‘In June? It's about seventy-three degrees outside.'

The captain saw a sparkle light up in Hunter's eyes. He looked over at his partner.

Garcia knew that look well enough. He gave Hunter a shrug. ‘I'm a sucker for a mystery, you know that.'

Without saying a word, Captain Blake stood up and left the UVC Unit's office.

She didn't collect the files.