The Executioner by Chris Carter

– impressive. How does someone like you end up as a detective instead of a millionaire?’
    Guns and Roses started playing on the jukebox.
    ‘My life story won’t make a bestseller.’
    ‘I’m not looking to write one,’ she replied casually. ‘But about your book, I’m intrigued. I was particularly fascinated by the part about ritualistic murderers. I really do believe your theories are right on the money, but there’s something that bothers me.’
    ‘And what would that be?’
    ‘Unless you’ve drastically changed your mind, or you’re willing to contradict your own thesis, I know you don’t believe the church murder was a one-off. Am I right?’
    ‘See, there you go again,’ Hunter replied. ‘Pushing your thoughts onto me and expecting me to agree or disagree with them.’
    ‘C’mon, Robert. Let me work this story with you. I’ll do a great job. I can make you famous.’
    Hunter chuckled, crossed his legs and let his arms slump down onto his knees. ‘Famous?’
    ‘You’re a great detective. I know it because I researched you. Your track record when it comes to catching criminals, especially tough ones, is outstanding, but no one except a handful of people knows that. You deserve recognition. Los Angeles is in desperate need of a hero.’
    Hunter had a slow sip of his Scotch. Claire Anderson was certainly very good at the flattering game; he had to give her that. ‘I’m happy the way I am,’ he replied. ‘I don’t wanna be a hero. And I don’t need to be famous.’
    ‘You’re happy? I don’t buy that.’
    Hunter crossed his arms. ‘I like my life the way it is. I like being—’
    ‘A loner?’
    Hunter kept silent.
    ‘OK.’ Claire leaned forward and placed both elbows on the table. ‘Off the record, answer me this, not as a cop but as a criminal psychologist just to quench my curiosity.’
    Hunter arched his left eyebrow with interest. ‘Off the record?’
    ‘Yes. I promise.’
    ‘Shoot.’
    ‘Let’s suppose you weren’t investigating this case, but simply studying it. If you had to create a profile of the killer judged solely on what you saw inside the Seven Saints church. Wouldn’t that profile indicate an UNSUB that’ll probably offend again, or has already offended in the past, or both?’
    Hunter let out a constricted laugh. ‘You don’t give up, do you?’
    ‘I wouldn’t be a good reporter if I did.’ The answer came with a wink.
    Hunter finished his drink and placed the empty glass on the table with an emphatic smack. Claire did the same.
    ‘One more round?’ she asked.
    Hunter glanced at his watch with a doubtful look.
    ‘C’mon, you don’t have a wife to go back home to, do you?’
    ‘Somehow I think you already know the answer to that question.’
    She giggled. ‘As I said, I did check you out a little bit.’ She realized how crazy that sounded and was quick to reiterate. ‘Not in a psycho, stalker way. Research is part of being a journalist.’
    Silence.
    ‘C’mon, it’s my round. Look, I promise I won’t ask any more questions about the case.’
    Hunter pulled a face. ‘I sincerely doubt that.’
    ‘I’ll tell you what,’ Claire said, standing up. ‘I’ve gotta tab going at the bar. Order whatever you like and get me another gin and tonic while I go to the ladies. We’ll have one more drink here, and then maybe we can go someplace else. My flatmate is out of town for the weekend.’ Her lips stretched into a seductive smile.
    Wow, she’s prepared to go all the way . Claire would be amazing in bed, Hunter decided, but her performance would be in direct proportion to the information her lover could provide. It was the information she was making love to, not the man.
    ‘Look, Claire. You’re a very attractive woman. I’m sure you know you could take your pick out of all the guys in this joint to take home.’
    ‘I pick you.’
    Hunter laughed. ‘And I’m flattered. But this would be for the wrong reasons and you know it.’
    ‘Sometimes