Chapter 9

"What the hell has been going on with you?" Isabelle Martin asked.

"I already told you. I slammed it in the front door with it."

"However, one of your fingers is broken but the flesh is not broken anywhere else. Not only would the skin have been swelled, but it would also have been bruised, broken, or something else along those lines if it had been hit so hard."

He remarked this with a tone of cynicism in his voice, "I feel as though my manhood has been destroyed as well."

"Was that a joke, or can you show me what you mean?"

He smirked. "I'm just kidding."

"I'm sorry to say that, you jerk. Just how does this make you feel?" When she touched his finger, Hunter made a painful facial expression.

"Like you're eager to have shattered bones yourself if you continue to do that," he said.

"I'm shaking. Listen here, Hunter, if you don't want to tell me the truth about what happened to you, then don't. However, do not approach me with any further favor requests. My mouth is completely shut for the following one." She pointed to a black body bag that was laying on a gurney close to the autopsy table and she gestured in that direction.

"Isabelle, I need that report as soon as possible."

"Why? You are aware that it is the same killer. This body has the same appearance as the others that have been found."

"Then why don't you just hand it over to me?"

"Because doing so would require me to get my knickers in a knot again and again, which is something I have no intention of doing. Due to the fact that the NBI has sent in one of its agents, the police wish to keep matters under wraps."

"Allan Ford is a good buddy of mine," Hunter said.

"That person has no friends and no allies. In addition to that, he is the one who instructed me to keep everything a secret. Said that the NBI does not want a media in connection with this matter, and if information gets out, my name will be dirt. If you really can't wait to look at this next report, then you should inquire about obtaining a copy of the actual document when I hand it on to him. If that doesn't work, you're out of luck."

"Have some courage, Isabelle. I promise no one will find out," he implored.

She gave a slight nod in response. "Nobody other than the highest-ranking officials is in the know about what's going on behind the scenes. If anyone discovers that I sent you copies of the last two reports, I will see to it that I am kicked out of this place immediately. They are becoming increasingly strict, Hunter. Ford is taking a really aggressive stance."

"I want to apprehend this person as bad as Ford does," Hunter remarked, making a gesture of weariness by passing his uninjured hand over his face and saying, "I want to nab this guy as bad as Ford does. Give me more, and I'll get things done a whole lot faster."

"Why?" She stood there with her hands on her hips and her eyes narrowed as she examined him. "Have you gotten any leads yet?"

He gave his swollen hand a cursory inspection. "How long will this take to become better?"

"Hunter, you better watch out. Don't be evasive. Do you have any leads to follow?"

He questioned over and over again, "How long?" as a flash of ivory skin and black hair obscured his view. He saw a vision of Autumn moving about in front of him. Her aroma permeated his nasal passages, and he found himself once more in the Midnight Pub, listening to her proposition.

"Hunter!" Isabelle yelled out while flinging her hands in the air in an obviously frustrated manner. "I swear, you have the tightest lips of everyone I know."

"That is precisely why you are providing me with information. You are aware that I will not inform anyone else."

"That's right," she said as she donned a set of surgical gloves and a face mask designed for surgeons. "Nevertheless, we could have a conversation. Please share your newfound info with me. It's getting to the point where I can't stand it when you walk in here and start barking commands at me. Ford has been here more times than I can count, poking his nose here and there, but the only time he's opened his mouth to speak to me was when he barked an order at me. I can't take it anymore. Hunter, if you have any information, please share it with me. It's possible that I can help."

He stood up and said, "I can't afford any of your help, and I never tell anyone. I'll be returning for that report first thing in the morning tomorrow."

"Not this time, Hunter," she replied. She groped for the corpse bag's zipper as she continued her search. "Aside from that, even if I work nonstop through the night, it will still take me that amount of time to put back together what is left of this man. I'm not kidding when I say there's a cannibal out there somewhere. One of the victims who died at the very end didn't even have a heart. That blows your mind, doesn't it? Someone out of their mind eating the heart? When it came to the other victims, the organs were in such a state of disarray that it was like attempting to put together like a puzzle in order to make sense of what was still there. This killer is a bona fide psychopath."

"Because of this, it is imperative that he be removed from the street immediately. Have some courage, Isabelle. I can't do this without you."

"Nope. I really mean it." She gave a slight nod in response. "Take my word for it. No."

"How much?"

"Not at this moment, Hunter," she stated over and over again. "Did you not hear what I said? It's a no." She hesitated, and then sighed deeply before continuing. "I just wanted to let you know that it's probably going to turn out that I'll be bagging bodies in the filthiest, most rodent-infested hole that Ford can discover."

"And how much do you want?"

"Thousands and dinner in bed," she replied.

"Are you constantly willing to take risks? Dinner in bed, huh?"

She chuckled and asked, "Are you serious?"

"Isabelle, is that what you're looking for here?"

"Perhaps, but having dinner in bed will have to do. So, what do you think of it, Hunter? Just a dinner?"

"I thought you were going to talk about sex," he said. He made an attempt to smile at her.

"Perhaps in both cases."

"No, Isabelle. I'm not the kind of man with whom you should become involved in any kind of relationship."

She took an extended look at him before continuing. "To be honest, I have no argument against that statement. But even with that, I'm not going to let you skip dinner. And obviously the thousand, as well. If it looks like I'm going to fail, I'd like some compensation for my trouble."

"Okay, I'll give you ten thousand. And once you're done, I get a look at what's left over."

"What are your plans for dinner?"

"If you went it alone, you'd have better company. In recent times, I haven't had much of an appetite." As he said, he pushed through the door that led to a dim way going to the parking lot. He rummaged around in his pocket, getting the keys. His mind was racing with thoughts of rage and fury. When the key fell into the ground, he immediately thought of Autumn Herrera as he cursed her name. He grabbed it with the stronger of his one good hand. As soon as his fingers touched the metal, he stopped moving completely, all of his senses heightened.

He had the fleeting feeling that he heard the crunch of bushes at that very moment. After this, he did not hear anything. Not even the typical buzzing of insects could be heard. In spite of the fact that the night air was warm, the hair on his neck began to stand on end as he straightened up and inserted the key in the lock. That was when he first started to feel it. The velvet brush on his damaged fingers. He rotated his body clockwise. It's of no consequence. Nothing more than a deserted parking lot in the dark with... an unsettling presence. It seemed as though someone was following him or watching him, but there was nobody there.

Hunter climbed into the driver's seat of his vehicle, revved the engine, and cursed Autumn Herrera a thousand times more as he attempted to steer the vehicle with his damaged left hand while simultaneously using his right hand to operate the conventional shifter of the vehicle.

Autumn Herrera... At least he knew her name, assuming it was her true name; he would find out shortly enough when he conducted a background check on her whether or not that was the case. She had the option of providing him with a bogus one. It was likely the case. On the other hand, his instincts told him otherwise. As his intuition had been telling him all along, she had been telling the truth about her info of who the murderer was. He'd believed her in Midnight Pub. Then, of course, there was her response when she arrived at the scene of the murder. Had she felt repelled or guilty, or even both of these emotions? She was aware... She was aware of it, which meant that he would become aware of it very quickly. When they did, she would lament her hasty way and the gift of a broken finger that she had given him. He and the mysterious Autumn would eventually cross paths again.