Hunter: A Thriller by Robert James Bidinotto Read Free Book Online

look at the photo, burning the image into his memory, then slapped the cover shut on it and slid the folder aside.
    He flipped open the second file. Saw a broad, leering face with dark curly hair and a wispy mustache staring back at him from black shark’s eyes.
    “That next fellow is John Joseph Valenti . ‘Jay-Jay’ is his street name. Anyway, Joh — Mr. Valenti hails from a nice Philadelphia working-class family. His father is a heavy-machine operator. They all moved to the Virginia suburbs ten years ago, when the builder for whom his father works landed a major paving contract in the District.”
    Wonk paused. “Believe me, Dylan, this one is a real weirdo. I had a brief look at his social services report. When he was a child—a really young child—he liked to hurt animals. They caught him drowning a litter of kittens in a stream. Slowly, one at a time. He was only six years old. Can you imagine that?”
    “Indeed I can. What else?”
    “He was caught...exposing himself to other children.”
    “No need to be embarrassed, Wonk.”
    “Well, I just find that positively creepy . And not just to children. Later on, to a neighbor, an adult female living in the house next door. He stood naked in front of his window, doing...things. He was only ten.”
    “Precocious little bastard, wasn’t he?”
    Wonk winced. Dylan had forgotten that he didn’t like raw language.
    “Anyway, there was more of that sort of thing as Mr. Valenti entered his teen years. So he was placed in a psychological counseling program. However, there were no legal consequences when he stopped attending.”
    “Why am I not surprised.”
    “Things grew considerably more serious when he was accused of molesting a fourteen-year-old girl.”
    “His first known rape?”
    The researcher’s plump cheeks reddened. “Well. Not rape, exactly. It was—what do they call it?—a kind of a fetish assault.”
    “Say no more. I’ll read the file. So, what happened to him?”
    “Nothing happened. As with Mr. Bracey, nothing of consequence ever happened to this individual, either. In this case, the girl was too embarrassed to pursue charges. Or perhaps it was her parents who were embarrassed; the report is ambiguous on that point. But Mr. Valenti —he was fifteen at the time—was urged again to seek counseling. He did not.”
    “I am reeling in shocked incredulity. Anything else?”
    “Only rumors. Very disturbing rumors, however. During the summer that he turned sixteen, Roberta Gifford, a college coed who lived on his block, went missing. Her body was discovered a week later, two miles away. She had been tortured...with various objects.”
    He fell silent for a moment. Hunter stared down at the shark’s eyes in the photo.
    “He was questioned about it,” Wonk continued, “but nothing came of it. He had an alibi, and so the case is still listed as unsolved.”
    “What was his alibi?”
    Wonk pointed at the third file folder. “Him.”
    Hunter looked at it. Drew it closer. Flipped it open to the photo.
    Older man, early forties.
    Strong face. Large, hawkish nose.
    Longish, slack sandy hair, tossed back roughly.
    Eyes like an overcast November sky.
    Hunter tapped the face in the photo with his forefinger. “This,” he said softly, “is the one who interests me most.”
    “Adrian Dalton Wulfe ,” Wonk announced. “He had hired Mr. Valenti to help him with home renovations at the time of the girl’s disappearance. Or so he claimed to the authorities.” Hunter didn’t say anything, so he went on. “And not long afterward, he also hired Mr. Bracey to assist with the yard work. That, apparently, is how the trio met.”
    Hunter rocked slowly in his chair, holding the file folder level with his eyes.
    “Dylan?”
    Hunter remained silent. Rocked. Studied the photo before him.
    “Why have you asked me to research these individuals?”
    Silence.
    “I gather that this is all about Dr. Copeland’s suicide this weekend. Am I