Chapter Thirty-Three

Inside the UVC Unit's office, Captain Blake's lips pursed at Hunter, as she gave him an ‘I'm impressed' look.

‘Way of digging yourself out of a hole, Robert,' she whispered.

Hunter caught Garcia's attention with a gesture, before indicating the board and the list of injuries that Terry Wilford had suffered during his torture phase.

Garcia quickly retrieved it and placed it on Hunter's desk.

Before he could start, the sky outside cracked with thunder so loud that it sounded like a bomb had gone off just outside the PAB.

‘What the hell was that?'Joe asked.

‘Thunder,' Hunter replied. ‘We're just about to get one of our famous tropical downpours over here.'

A second later, raindrops the size of rifle bullets began pelting down against their office window.

‘And here it is,' Garcia whispered.

‘OK, Joe, I'm ready. Can I start?' Hunter asked.

‘I guess.'The reply came with an exhaled breath.

‘You broke both of your arms when you were a young boy, am I right? Maybe when you were around ten or eleven years old?'

There was a pregnant pause, as if Joe hadn't heard the question properly. ‘Umm.' The doubtful lilt was back in his voice. ‘Yeah, that's right. I fell off my bike.'

Hunter and Garcia exchanged the same ‘yeah, right' look.

Trauma, when instigated by fear, tended to embed its roots deeper into the human mind, making it harder to overcome. Most people, battling those types of traumas, would, more often than not, hold on to certain fears long after their threat was gone, allowing them to affect their lives for years to come… sometimes for life. Joe had run away from his father five years ago and he now knew that Terry Wilford was gone and would never be back, but it seemed that his mind was still holding on to the fear of being hurt… the fear of punishment. His mind was still holding on to an untruth, created to protect Terry, not Joe.

‘Was that what your father told you to tell everyone?' Hunter asked. ‘That your arm injuries were the result of you falling off a bike?'

Joe stayed quiet.

‘Joe,' Hunter tried again. ‘I understand why he would do that. I also understand how terribly difficult this is for you. I know that what I'm asking you to do right now is painful… the memories I'm asking you to tap into are tender and full of hurt… and if there was another way, believe me, I would've gone down that path, but there really isn't one, we've looked.' He paused for effect. ‘The only way that this can work, Joe, is if you tell me the truth. There is no danger anymore.'

Another flicker of a lighter. Another long drag of a cigarette.

‘What do you wanna know, Detective?'

Hunter drew in a deep, silent breath. ‘Did your father do that to you? Did he twist your arms until they broke?'

Silence always had the magic power of stretching time, making it feel longer. The one that followed seemed to last an eternity.

‘Just "yes" or "no" will do, Joe. I don't need any details.'

‘How could you possibly know that my father did that to me?'Joe asked, his voice faltering again. ‘I never told anyone what really happened. I didn't even go to the hospital back then. There's no record of it. And how do you know that he twisted them?'

‘Were you treated at home?'

‘Yes.'Of all the emotions coming in and out of Joe's voice, anguish was the easiest one to detect. ‘And because of that… because I was treated at home, my arms aren't… quite right.'

‘Thank you for being honest, Joe.' Hunter nodded at the phone, as his eyes moved down on the list. He knew that the faster he got through his questions, the better it was for everyone. ‘How about… cigarette burns? Did your father ever do that to you – burn you with the tip of a cigarette?'

Joe chuckled nervously again. ‘Yeah… he did. How do you know all this?' he asked, clearly fighting back tears. ‘How can you possibly know all this when no one else does?'

‘I don't,' Hunter replied, his tone calm and explanatory. ‘I'm just trying to eliminate actions from a list, Joe. And you're doing great.' He chose to be less specific with the next question.

‘With the cigarette burns – did your father target your hands, arms, feet, torso, legs… could you tell me?'

Hunter used a pen to indicate on the list. During the torture phase, Terry Wilford had suffered cigarette burns in between his toes.

‘Feet.'Joe's reply was almost a whisper. ‘He burned my feet a few times… between my toes… so that Mom wouldn't see it.'

Captain Blake brought a hand to her mouth. ‘Fuck.' The word was muffled by her palm.

Hunter shifted on his chair. He debated if he should ask just one more question, or stop right then. He decided that he would ask a final question, but he would keep it as general as he possibly could.

‘If it's OK with you, Joe,' he said, his eyes on the list. ‘I'd like to ask you just one last question, and I truly only need a "yes" or "no" answer. You don't have to go into any details. Is that OK?'

‘Yeah.'Joe sounded almost out of breath, as if he'd just finished a hundred-meter dash.

Once again, Hunter used his pen to indicate on the list.

Garcia and Captain Blake craned their necks to have a look.

Dr. Hove and her student had identified that the perpetrator had used something like diluted toilet bleach or some kind of soft detergent as eye drops on Terry Wilford. Something that would've caused considerable pain but wouldn't necessarily cause blindness.

‘Did your father ever hurt your eyes in any way? Any way whatsoever?'

Silence.

‘Just a ye—' Hunter tried to remind Joe, but he cut him short.

‘Yes, he did.'Joe paused and Hunter had a feeling that it wasn't a final pause. Joe was debating if he should say anything else or just leave it at that. He decided to clarify. ‘He got real angry one night. I was eleven… twelve… I can't fully remember, but after he beat me up, he held my head back, forced my eyes open, and dripped something into them that burned like fire. Pepper, alcohol, lime juice… I don't know what it was. But I remember how much it burned.'

Hunter was done with the physical punishment questions. There was no need to go through the entire list, but he still needed to clear a couple of points.

‘When you were talking about your arms, Joe,' Hunter carried on, ‘you said that you never told anyone what had really happened… never went to the hospital either. Did you ever tell anyone at all about any of it… at any time?'

‘About the beatings?'Joe asked. ‘About his temper?'

‘Yes,' Hunter confirmed. ‘Did anyone know? A friend? A teacher? Another member of the family? Anyone at all?'

‘My mom knew… at least about some of it, but… she loved my father. She would always forgive him, no matter how drunk or violent he got.'Joe paused, as if he was searching for the right words. ‘You see, when my father was good, he was great, but when he was bad, it was like he was someone else… some angry, vicious monster out of control.'

‘Mood swings?'

Another nervous chuckle. ‘Yeah, I guess you could say that. Super-violent one second, then remorseful the next.'

Hunter noted that down. ‘Was he also violent toward your mother?'

‘Yes. Sometimes, but not always. I got the bulk of it.'

‘Did anyone else other than your mom know? Any of her friends, maybe?'

A slightly hesitant pause. ‘I can't be sure, but I don't think so. I never told anyone and I don't think Mom did either. Neither of us had many friends. I wasn't really allowed to play outside and my mom never went out without my father. He was also smart enough to hurt me mainly on my torso and legs. Parts always covered by clothes, so no one would see the bruises and start asking questions. My mom had to drop me off and pick me up from school every day. After some of the bad beatings, like the broken arms, I wouldn't go to school for weeks. No after-school activities either, but…' Joe trailed off, as if lost in thought.

Hunter gave him a few seconds before pushing. ‘Yes, Joe, but…?'

‘But I think my sixth-grade teacher suspected it. She was always concerned, you know? Always asking me how things were at home… why I missed so many classes… why I always sat by myself at lunchtime… that sort of thing. She kept on telling me that I could tell her anything I wanted and she would keep it a secret. I never told her about any of it, but I think she knew. She was a really great teacher.'

‘Do you remember that teacher's name?'

‘Umm… yeah – Mrs. Broadhurst.'

Hunter wrote the name down.

‘How about after you left Phoenix? After you moved away from your father and the beatings? Have you mentioned any of it to anyone?'

‘No. I never told anyone. I don't want anyone to know. I came to Chandler to start a new life and leave everything behind, not to feel sorry for the life I had. I just want to move on.'

Hunter nodded his understanding. ‘How about writing down what was happening to you? A lot of kids keep diaries, or a journal, or something on those lines. Did you have anything like that back then? Did you ever make notes of the beatings?'

Joe snorted. ‘No, why would I? Not something that I would like to keep a record of. And if I did and my father ever found out about it, it would've just earned me another severe beating, or worse.'

Hunter took a second to scan through his notes. He had what he needed. He looked at Garcia and Captain Blake before using his hand in a cut-throat gesture.

‘We're done here,' he whispered.

‘Good,' Captain Blake whispered back.

Hunter thanked Joe for his help, but this time it was Joe who paused Hunter, just as he was about to disconnect.

‘Detective?'

‘Yes?'

They could all hear Joe's slightly restless breathing.

‘Where is he?'he finally asked. ‘Where is my father?'

‘His body is being kept at the Department of Medical Examiner-Coroner here in Los Angeles.'

Silence returned to the line, but once again, no dial tone. Hunter waited.

‘Is it true what you told me?'Joe asked, sadness colliding with doubt in his tone. ‘Will the state really provide for a funeral?'

‘Yes,' Hunter confirmed, under the nods from Garcia and Captain Blake. ‘If the family cannot afford one, the state of California will provide for a dignified funeral or cremation.'

There was a long silence.

Hunter waited once again. He knew that Joe was still on the line.

‘If there is a funeral or a cremation… could you please let me know?'

‘Of course, Joe,' Hunter replied. ‘With plenty of time. You have my word.'