Chapter Forty-Six

Keri Liftridge's practicing psychology office was located in North Hollywood, right on Victory Boulevard, on the third floor of a dark-glass-fronted building that could easily be mistaken for a private bank. Hunter got there just as the clock struck five in the afternoon.

At the building's reception lobby, he cleared security with a quick flash of his credentials before taking the stairs up to the third and topmost floor. The door to the psychology office was closed, with a sign that read, ‘Please ring for admittance', followed by an arrow pointing to an intercom unit mounted on the wall to the right of the door. There was a camera built into the intercom.

Hunter pressed the button and waited. It took only a couple of seconds for someone to reply.

‘Yes, how may I help you this afternoon?'The female voice that came through the tiny intercom speaker was gentle, with a somewhat soothing quality to it.

‘Is this Mrs. Liftridge?' Hunter asked.

‘No. Mrs. Liftridge is with a client at the moment. Do you have an appointment for today?'

‘Not exactly,' Hunter replied, lifting up his credentials so that the camera could pick it up. ‘But if possible, I'd like to have a quick word with her. It really won't take long.'

‘Umm…'

‘It really is important,' Hunter pushed, sensing the hesitation.

There was a quick moment of indecision before the door buzzed open. ‘Of course. Please come in.'

The door opened into a small reception room, where the only pieces of furniture were a filing cabinet and an office desk, behind which sat a lady so petite that Hunter had to angle his body to one side to be able to see her past her computer monitor. She looked to be in her mid-forties with dark, straight hair that had been cut short – fringe-bob style – dark eyes and a smile so well rehearsed it looked natural.

‘Please come in, Detective…?'

‘Hunter. Robert Hunter.'

‘I'm Janice,' she said, without standing up. ‘It's nice to meet you, Detective Hunter. Unfortunately, I can't interrupt Mrs. Liftridge's session.' She indicated the door to her right and Hunter's left. ‘But you're welcome to take a seat in the waiting room if you like, and I'll let Keri know that you're here as soon as her session is over.' She quickly checked the clock on her screen. ‘Which will be in about ten minutes' time. I can't guarantee that she'll be able to see you today, but I can try.'

‘Does she have another appointment after this one?'

‘No. This is her last session for the day.'

‘Thank you, Janice. I appreciate it. I'll wait.' Hunter turned the handle on the door to the waiting room and pushed it open.

On average, therapists' sessions were usually between forty-five minutes and an hour long, and they were always by appointment, no walk-ins. There was never more than one client waiting at a time. It wasn't like going to the dentist. For that reason, therapists' waiting rooms tended to be compact, but not too cramped, in case the client struggled with claustrophobia. The decoration was always placid – not too many colors or extravagant furniture, with the lighting warm and calm. The room that Hunter found himself in was no different. It had been minimally furnished, with just one armchair and a low coffee table. The armchair – an oxblood, Chesterfield club chair – faced a wall that displayed two framed prints – both very tranquil images. On the coffee table, there were a few magazines spread out like a deck of cards. Across the room, by the door that led into Keri Liftridge's office, there was a twin-tap water dispenser.

Hunter chose not to take a seat. Instead, he studied the two framed images – the first one showed a deserted beach, with snow-white sand and baby-blue waters. The second was a photograph of a sunset somewhere, where the sky had turned orange-red, silhouetting the mountains on the horizon. Hunter had to admit that the prints had an almost hypnotic effect.

He was just about to pick up one of the magazines when he heard the sound of a door closing, coming from inside Keri Liftridge's office. That probably meant her session had ended and that her client her left through the office exit door. That was another common feature in therapists' offices – a client never exited through the waiting room. Client crossing client was a big no-no in the therapy world. There was always a private exit door. A few seconds later, Hunter heard a phone ring inside Keri's office. The conversation didn't last long. Seconds after that, Keri Liftridge opened the door to her office and stepped into the waiting room.

‘Detective Hunter?' she said, offering a delicate and well-manicured hand. ‘I'm Keri Liftridge. You wish to speak with me?'

Hunter shook her hand, as he introduced himself.

‘LAPD Homicide?' Keri's eyes narrowed at Hunter. Her voice became tense. ‘What is this concerning? Has something happened to one of my clients?'

Keri Liftridge was almost a whole foot shorter than Hunter, with reddish-blonde hair that was neatly tied back into a slick bun. Her makeup was minimal, but done in a way that perfectly accentuated her dark eyes and her high cheekbones. She was dressed very professionally, in a light-blue suit, white blouse and short black heels. The sleeves of her suit jacket were rolled up to expose her forearms, but what most impressed Hunter about Keri was that everything about her exuded confidence – her posture, her movements, the way she spoke, her tone of voice… everything.

‘Do you mind if we talk in your office?' Hunter asked.

Keri hesitated for a split second, her eyes showing concern. ‘Yes, of course.' She turned to indicate the door. ‘Please, come in.'

Hunter followed Keri into a room that felt just as tranquil as the waiting room that they were in, but at least double its size. It was nicely decorated, without coming across as presumptuous, comfortably lit and very cozy. Apart from Keri's antique pedestal desk, there were two armchairs, identical to the one in the waiting room, a Chesterfield three-seater couch and a typical therapist's chaise longue.

‘Please take a seat, Detective,' Keri said, broadly gesturing at the room. ‘Anywhere you like.'

‘I'm OK standing, if you don't mind.'

Hunter's reply seemed to worry Keri even more. He picked up on it and quickly clarified.

‘This shouldn't take long.'

Keri studied Hunter for a couple of seconds longer than he expected before finally nodding. ‘Whatever you prefer,' she said, leaning back against the edge of her desk. Her arms stayed relaxed and by her sides.

Hunter lost no time in explaining the reason for his visit, without revealing too many details.

‘So basically,' Keri said, once Hunter was done. ‘You need me to confirm, or deny, if any of these people that you're talking about have ever attended any of my domestic violence support-group sessions?'

‘That's all I need,' Hunter confirmed.

Keri nodded slowly. ‘And since you're a homicide detective, it's safe to assume that they're either suspects in an investigation, or they're the victims.'

‘That's also correct.'

Keri crossed her arms in front of her. ‘OK. So who are they?'

Hunter handed her a photo of Terry Wilford. ‘His name is Terry. Terry Wilford.' He was careful to use the verb in its present tense. ‘Please bear in mind that if he did attend any of your group sessions, it could've been a while back, as opposed to recently.'

Keri took the photo from Hunter's hand and studied it for a few seconds before nodding confidently. ‘Yeah, I remember him. He did use to come to my sessions on Tuesday evenings, and you're right – it was a while back.'

Hunter felt his stomach drop, as his brain caught up with what Keri's confirmation truly meant for their investigation. ‘How long is a while back, can you remember?' He kept his voice as steady as he could.

Keri took another moment. ‘It's hard to be exact, but I'd say at least six months, probably longer, but…' Her stare got lost somewhere in the space between her and Hunter.

‘But?' Hunter pushed.

‘But I'm sure that Terry isn't the name he used at the sessions.' She immediately lifted a hand at Hunter. ‘Which is no surprise. It's a tough group, Detective. The people who attend it are climbing a huge mountain – they're accepting that what they've been doing is wrong… they're accepting that they need to do better… and they're accepting that they need help. That means that in one way or another, they're ashamed of their actions… of what they've done. To face a group of complete strangers and admit to that takes courage, of course it does, but they're still ashamed. It's not surprising that many of them keep their names private.'

‘Of course,' Hunter agreed. ‘Just out of curiosity, can you remember which name he used?'

Keri's attention went back to the photo. She chewed her bottom lip for several long seconds before shaking her head. ‘I'm not one hundred percent sure, but I think it was something easy to remember. John, or Paul, or something like that.'

Hunter nodded before handing her the second photo. ‘This is the second individual that I'm interested in.' This time, Hunter didn't use Shaun Daniels's name. ‘Can you remember him from any of your sessions?'

Keri placed Terry's photo on her desk before taking the new image from Hunter's hand. As she studied the picture, Hunter studied her. Her eyes narrowed a touch as they moved around the photograph. Her lips pursed and twisted left before she, once again, bit her bottom one. There were no signs of recognition anywhere. Hunter knew the answer even before she spoke.

‘No. I've never seen him before. He never attended any of my group sessions. His face doesn't look familiar at all.'

Hunter didn't need to ask if Keri was sure. He knew she was. And that had to mean that their killer had clearly maximized his options. He didn't stick to a single support group. Why would he? The more he moved around, the more stories he would hear. The more stories he heard, the more potential victims he would meet. But that wasn't the only advantage of jumping from group to group. There was also the risk management side – the less that he was seen in a group… the less people tended to remember his face.

‘So we're talking about victims here,' Keri said, returning the photo to Hunter. Her tone was calm and confident.

Hunter locked eyes with her.

Keri gave him a subtle shrug. ‘What are the odds of two different murderers attending domestic violence support groups at the same time?'

Hunter couldn't fault her logic. He nodded once. It was pointless denying.

Keri's attention went back to the photo that she had placed on her desk.

‘What was his real name again?'

‘Terry Wilford.'

She shook her head at the photo and the look in her eyes turned sad. ‘Poor guy. He really was working hard to tackle his problem. He was trying to change. I remember how emotional he got at times. How much he regretted what he had done.' She returned the photo to Hunter. ‘I really hope he had a chance to make things right, or at least a chance to say that he was sorry.'

‘Was he very vocal in the group?' Hunter asked.

‘I encourage everyone to talk,' Keri explained. ‘It's the only way that group therapy works. People have to talk… they have to let things out. When they do, we all listen.'

‘I understand that, but I also know that some group members would need more encouraging than others, while some would be less shy to come forward with what they have to say.'

Keri nodded, as if she'd just picked up on Hunter's drift. ‘You've been through group therapy before.'

Hunter found it easier to simply agree with a head gesture.

‘You're right,' she said. ‘Some group members do need a little more encouraging than others.' There was a thoughtful pause before Keri scratched the skin between her professionally plucked eyebrows. ‘If my memory serves me right, he was what I'd call an average member. Since you've been to group therapy, you understand the dynamics of it, right? We go around in the circle, taking turns sharing experiences, and those experiences don't necessarily need to deal directly with domestic abuse or violence. People might want to share something about their past, or about their childhood, or their parents, or school, or work environment… whatever they feel like sharing. Some choose to pass when their turn comes, so we skip to the next member – no judging… no pressure. Terry wasn't a "passer". Like I've said, he was really trying hard to tackle his problem, and the only way to do that is by talking… by sharing… and he did so.'

‘And do you remember seeing him chatting to other group members either before the sessions, after, or during a break?'

Keri's eyes settled on Hunter's face and they stayed there for a few analyzing seconds. ‘You're starting to worry me a little, Detective Hunter.'

Hunter said nothing because he could already guess what Keri's deduction had been.

‘If you're here asking about two possible members of my support group,' she continued, ‘who have become murder victims in the same investigation, and the follow-up questions are about who they might've been talking to before, during or after the sessions, it can only mean one thing – you suspect that the killer was also a support-group member.' Keri paused, thought about it, then corrected herself. ‘Or worse even – is also a support-group member – because he hasn't been caught yet.'

Keri Liftridge was clearly intelligent and a very quick thinker. Hunter knew from experience that trying to bullshit a person like her was rarely a good idea.

‘We're trying to track back as much of Mr. Wilford's life as we possibly can,' he explained. ‘It's standard investigative procedure. Every human connection he had is a possible suspect – from someone he met in a support group to a homeless guy he chatted to every now and then on the streets. We're just trying to identify other people who could maybe give us more information on him. Every little piece matters, but yes, Mr. Wilford's murderer could've been a member of your support group. Right now, he could be anyone.'

Keri seemed to appreciate Hunter's honesty. He picked up on that and quickly brought the question back to her.

‘So do you know if he became friends with anyone in the group? Or was there someone who he chatted to more often than others?'

Keri shook her head, as she thought about it. ‘It really is hard to remember. Like I said, it was a while back and the sessions are only once a week…' She paused and squinted at nothing at all, while lifting an index finger at Hunter, who craned his neck in her direction. ‘Hold on a second. I think there was someone. Yes, Terry always sat by the same person, and I think they did get talking. In fact, I'm sure they did.'

‘Do you remember who that person was?' Hunter asked. ‘Does he/she still come to group sessions?'

‘He,' Keri confirmed, before hesitating for another short moment. ‘And funny that you've asked, because yeah, he's been coming to sessions for a few years now, I think.'

Hunter felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

‘But it's on and off,' Keri explained. ‘All group therapy members are like that. People join a group for a few sessions then disappear for one reason or another. Some try other groups… some fail to see any benefits from the sessions and quit… whatever the reason is. Since the sessions are government-funded, meaning free for all members, there's no commitment, no specific number of sessions they need to attend either. No one has to cancel their appointments, or explain the reason why they'll stop coming. Some come back weeks or even months later, attend a few more sessions, and then disappear again. That's just the way it goes.'

‘Has he been to any recent sessions?'

Keri shook her head. ‘No, not for a while.'

‘A while?'

‘Several months. At least.'

‘Can you remember his name?' Hunter asked, then immediately corrected himself. ‘Or the name he used in the group?'

‘Umm…' Keri looked down at the floor, as if searching for something. ‘Michael,' she replied before nodding firmly at Hunter. ‘The name he gave us was Michael.'

Of course he would use a common name,Hunter thought. A name that's easy to remember and equally easy to forget.

‘How do new members join?' he asked. ‘Is there a roster… an attendance sheet… anything?'

‘Not really. People who'd like to come and join the group for the first time can either call or send an email via a web form. Both services have an automated reply with the location, the rules and the starting time. These are people looking for help, so no one is turned down. There's no screening either. Sometimes we can have as many as twelve to fifteen people in a session.' She shrugged. ‘Sometimes only two or three. Whenever people want to come back, all they have to do is turn up on the night. That's it.'

‘And you're sure that this Michael was the person who sat next to Terry Wilford during the sessions he attended… the person he talked to?'

‘Yes, I'm pretty sure.'

‘Can you maybe describe him for me?'

Keri's head tilted sideways.

‘Whatever you can remember,' Hunter pushed. ‘Height… body type… anything you can recall.'

‘Umm…' Keri thought about it for an instant. ‘He's tall, maybe just a couple of inches shorter than you. He's also… athletic? I'd say. Clean-shaven… short dark hair… dark eyes.' She shrugged. ‘That's it, really.'

‘Do you have a ballpark age?'

‘I'd say somewhere in his late thirties… maybe very early forties.'

‘How about any distinctive marks? Tattoos? Scars? Anything?'

Keri's bottom lip pursed forward as she tried to remember. ‘Umm… yeah, actually.' She snapped her fingers before pointing at Hunter. ‘A couple of his fingers are a little… odd-shaped.'

‘His fingers?'

‘Yeah, on one of his hands, but I can't be sure which. It's not exactly noticeable, but I remember them because I've handed him a cup of coffee a few times at session breaks and they caught my attention.'

‘Oddly shaped in what way?' Hunter asked.

Another shrug. ‘Just curved a little awkwardly at the knuckles. As if maybe they were broken when he was younger and didn't heal in the way they should have. I remember thinking that that must've been one of the reasons why he had become violent toward his children or wife. The reason why he had joined our group. He probably suffered constant violent physical abuse when he was younger, which can, in time, lead to modeling behavior. That's when—'

‘Children imitate their parents,' Hunter said with a nod. ‘Or anyone they look up to. If the abuse was constant, the brain can misinterpret that as normal. Once they grow up, they can easily model that same behavior. Like father, like son, kind of thing.'

‘Exactly,' Keri agreed. ‘Sixty to seventy percent of parents who become abusive toward their children and/or partners have, in fact, grown up in an abusive household themselves.' Her expression became thoughtful once again. Hunter noticed it and pushed.

‘Something else you remember?'

‘Yeah,' Keri nodded. ‘Just now we were talking about being a "passer" during the group sessions, remember? Michael was one of those – definitely the quiet type – didn't talk much, shy, passed often when his turn came… but he was very attentive to others and their accounts.'

A little voice inside Hunter's head whispered: But of course he was.