Hunted Read online

  HUNTED

  Monty Marsden

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  About this Book

  About the Author

  Table of Contents

  www.ariafiction.com

  About Hunted

  Seven years ago, psychiatrist Dr Claps assisted police in capturing Giacomo Riondino, a man accused of abducting, torturing and murdering two women. On arrest, tests had revealed that Riondino suffered from a rare and disturbing psychiatric condition and was sectioned.

  Six years later, Riondino is on the run after escaping from a rehabilitation centre, leaving a trail of bloody murders his wake.

  It is now a case for expert profiler Dr Claps and Commissioner Sensi to work together to track Riondino down before he kills again. Time is running out and the killer may be much closer than it seems’

  Contents

  Welcome Page

  About Hunted

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Epilogue

  Translator’s Acknowledgements

  About Monty Marsden

  Also by Monty Marsden

  Become an Aria Addict

  Copyright

  “Have you calmed down, Hannibal?”

  Hannibal dropped the shears on the ground. His breathing pace had remained regular throughout the whole thing; his heart beat hadn’t gone above seventy pulses per minute.

  “I’m always calm,” he answered hoarsely.

  He turned his face towards the other side of the wall. A high fence was visible through the front door; it was raining heavily outside.

  “I hate the smell in here. Who’s going to get us out of here?”

  “It’s roses – some people like it.”

  Hannibal smirked out of disgust. “Who’s going to get us out of here?” He repeated. “It’s not going to be the Wimp, right?”

  “I will, don’t worry. I’m keeping the Wimp away from this. Let’s move on, we’ll need the others when we’re out of here.”

  “I want to know who. Do I know him?”

  “You know the Fox. You don’t need to know anybody else. Let’s go, before it’s too late. It’s half six and we have an hour and a half to be on the safe side.”

  1

  Seven years earlier.

  Police Commissioner Sensi’s office wasn’t one of the most spacious and welcoming of rooms. Little sunshine entered the room through the window that dim morning. Despite the time of the day, the blue neon light was already on and its buzzing filled the room.

  For Claps, being there, sitting in front of Sensi’s desk was important – it was an achievement. This was the first time that he had called him to request his help as a criminologist, an expert in violent behaviour and horrific crimes. Most importantly, Sensi himself had called him – he was the big cheese, the man who always dealt with the most difficult cases. Sensi was destined to move to the larger, more welcoming office that belonged to the chief of police. Important stuff, not to be missed.

  Sensi had welcomed Claps a little coldly, defying Claps’ expectations. He had shaken his hand abruptly, then pointed to the armchair to invite him to take a seat.

  “Laura Minz, twenty-eight years old.” Sensi said in a flat tone, getting straight to the point. “She had been missing for twenty-four hours when her body was found yesterday morning. They found it in a pit along the national motorway to Lecco.” A short pause. “I trust you know all this already, the media have been talking.”

  Claps nodded slightly – he remained silent, his head low. He waited for Sensi to carry on talking.

  “The corpse displayed twenty-two stab wounds, only one of them was fatal. The autopsy has revealed evidence of sexual abuse. She died around three in the morning, the body was found at 6.30 a.m. by somebody who had stopped at the edge of the road because of a puncture. The victim…”

  Sensi stopped suddenly, he was chasing his own thoughts, then a few seconds later he carried on talking as though he had been waiting to say something for a long time. “Mr Claps – I want to be absolutely honest with you,” Sensi said and then he took his glasses off. He searched Claps’ eyes unsuccessfully.

  “I couldn’t avoid calling you over this – I was urged to ask for your help as a priority. I have to tell you, though, that I’m a little sceptical. It sounds like you’re straight from one of those American TV series. I don’t know how you can actually be of help to us. No offence.”

  “No direct help, of course,” Claps replied, speaking very clearly, with absolute calm. He was accustomed to the diffidence of his colleagues, especially those who were used to working hands-on on cases.

  “I can help to analyse the behaviour of the potential culprit… if there are enough details, I can sketch a profile, too.” Claps raised his eyes and locked them on Sensi. “I could give you more details about the potential murderer and you’d then be able to narrow your search focus. That is my job.”

  Sensi looked at Claps in silence for a while.

  “If you think that could be of any help, that is,” Claps added after a few seconds. “Nobody likes wasting their time. No offence.”

  Sensi leant back in his armchair. A few more moments of silence.

  “Very well, Mr Claps,” he said eventually, a little doubtfully. “Surprise me – do you have an idea of who the culprit could be?”

  “I don’t have enough information yet.”

  “Fair enough,” Sensi replied. “I’m sure you’ve read in the newspapers most of what I told you today anyway. I’ll tell you a little more. To start off with, the murderer…”

  This time, Claps interrupted Sensi. “I’d rather you told me about the victim first, please.”

  Sensi glared at Claps – he was used to leading the conversation. Sensi muttered a little, then he carried on talking. “Laura Minz was a young woman with a fairly normal life. She had a boyfriend, a job, a few friends… The people that we have spoken to described her as a happy, ‘bright’ girl, as they say. She was also sensible – nothing makes me think that she did anything unconventional in her life. She used to work as a nursing assistant in a big dental practice; the other day she went out at seven in the morning to go to work, but she never got there.”

  “How did she get to work?”

  “Public transport. She worked far away, on the outskirts of the city. She used the bus, the metro and she also walked a short way. I know what you’re about to ask – nobody saw any indication of what might have happened to her on her way to work. There’s not even a witness or any indirect information that might help us.”

  “No CCTV?”

  Sensi shook his head. “There are no cameras before the metro.”

  “What about inside the metro station? Have the recordings been seen?”

  “We’ve been a little unlucky – the CCTV was out of order for maintenance that morning.”

  “What about at her destination?” Claps insisted.

  “The cameras worked fine there, but Laura Minz doesn’t appear in any of the record
ings. She doesn’t appear in the tapes from the other places where the metro stopped along the route.” Sensi was beginning to get annoyed, this conversation was pointless.

  “She was taken somewhere halfway, on the journey between her house and the metro.”

  “Yeah, that’s what we were thinking, but…”

  “But nobody saw anything,” Claps concluded.

  For a few seconds, the buzzing of the neon light was the only audible noise in the office.

  “Maybe there wasn’t anything to see…” Claps broke the silence, almost muttering to himself.

  “What does that mean?” Sensi sounded more irritated now.

  “Maybe they didn’t take her away violently. It was early in the morning and it’s difficult to think that nobody would notice anything at that time of the day. Maybe somebody gave her a lift, somebody that she knew.”

  “We considered that too,” Sensi admitted, almost unwillingly. “Laura might have known her murderer; we’re investigating her friendships, but no results yet. It’s still an ongoing task, though, and it takes time.”

  “What time was her disappearance reported?”

  Sensi tensed up and closed his eyes a little. “Mr Claps,” he said, annoyed. “Why do you need to know regular investigative details like that for your job? Are you checking to see if we’re doing our job well? How does knowing what time her disappearance was reported help you to form a profile of the murderer?”

  Claps tried to find the best words to calm him down. “I just wanted to have a clear idea of the events – I didn’t want to step on your toes. I’m sorry if I gave that impression.”

  Sensi glanced at his watch nervously. “Alright… her disappearance was reported at 8 p.m. by her boyfriend. He had gone to pick her up from work like he does every day. Do you want to know anything else? I’m running out of time…”

  “I’d like to see some photos of the victim, please. I want to see her wounds.”

  *

  Today.

  The telephone operator at the psychiatric hospital leaned over from inside his lodge. He beckoned at one of the nurses walking lazily along the corridor.

  “Did you see Mr Bertoli? I’m on the phone to his wife, she wants to talk to him urgently. His phone rings but he doesn’t answer it.

  “He must have left it in his locker – everything alright?”

  “His son dislocated his shoulder playing football – they’re taking him to the hospital.”

  “That boy is going to make his father grow old before his time – he went to the hospital last month to get stitched up,” the nurse sighed. “Fuck, it’s pouring down… okay, I’ll go and give him a nudge. He’s in the greenhouse with Mr Meciani, he’s keeping an eye on Riondino.”

  He glanced at his watch and then opened his umbrella. It was 6.40 p.m. when he ran out into the rain.

  *

  The fields were vast. The rain kept falling heavily, the sky was grim and cloudy; every now and then the headlights from a passing vehicle would illuminate the scene. That was the best time for the escape – a long-awaited time. There was nobody in the fields, nobody would notice him.

  The alarm wouldn’t have been given before 8 p.m., the time when everyone in the psychiatric hospital had to be back; after then they would hunt for him everywhere. Police patrols, field searches, dogs sniffing for any traces of him. He wouldn’t stand a chance if he wasn’t already on his way.

  Riondino glanced at his watch one last time – it was 6.45 p.m. He walked faster, his heart pounding in his chest. He couldn’t afford to waste time.

  The dirt road he was heading for made its appearance a few minutes later, after a long, exhausting haul through the wet, muddy fields. A small, isolated road.

  He had to be patient now.

  And a little bit lucky.

  *

  The nurse didn’t immediately understand what he was seeing… or maybe his brain simply refused to. He had entered the greenhouse with some apprehension – before entering he had called out to his colleagues but received no reply.

  The first thing that his eyes managed to focus on after a few seconds was Bertoli’s wounded throat. He lay in an unnatural position on the ground, his hands, covered in blood, were around his neck, almost as if he were still trying to stop the blood coming out of the huge hole in his throat.

  Then he noticed that Bertoli’s eyes were wide open and a rivulet of blood was coming from the corner of his mouth – but this was nothing compared to the amount of blood elsewhere.

  Only when he began to scream did he notice the legs of another of the nurses, lying dead behind a table in a pool of blood.

  2

  Seven years earlier.

  Sensi pulled out a drawer to find a bundle of photographs. He handed them across the desk to Claps.

  “A white weapon. According to the pathologist who did the autopsy, they used a sharp kitchen knife,” Sensi said, while Claps began to look through the photos. “Like I said, there are twenty-two wounds, but only one of them was fatal. The others vary from light to deep cuts, but they weren’t lethal. Nothing that couldn’t have been fixed with a few stitches.”

  “Were they all inflicted before death?”

  “Yeah, apparently they were all inflicted while the victim was still alive. Once dead, she was left untouched. The murderer had a bit of fun first, and then he killed her quickly.”

  “The fatal wound?”

  “A violent, precise stab in the stomach, it must be somebody who knows how to use knives. The blade cut through the intestine and reached the aorta.” Sensi explained.

  Sensi described this series of events in a neutral tone, without any emotions. Claps, on the other hand, was suddenly overwhelmed with a sense of uneasiness as he thought about the blade cutting through the girl’s stomach. He felt disorientated, like never before. For that reason, he decided to change his focus to the girl’s face – she had pretty facial features, her eyes were big and light coloured. However, like those of any other dead person, they were totally devoid of expression. Claps thought that she must have been beautiful when she was alive. Then a sense of dizziness overtook him. For a few seconds, everything became blurred.

  He would have to get used to this feeling, and soon.

  He shook himself mentally so that he was able to ask another question.

  “Did they suggest when exactly the victim was tortured with the stabbing?”

  “She died at about 3 a.m. – the anatomopathologist thinks that her wounds weren’t made more than four hours before the time of death.”

  “Okay, so the victim disappeared between seven and eight in the morning, but the murderer didn’t do anything to her until 11 p.m.”

  “That’s right.”

  “What about the sexual assault?”

  “There’s no trace of penetration in her vagina – the victim was sodomised.”

  Another wave of dizziness.

  “Did the murderer leave anything behind?”

  “They did, actually.” Sensi’s eyes shone with a light of satisfaction.

  “A lot of sperm and pubic hairs. We have his DNA.”

  After a moment of silence, Sensi spoke again.

  “There’s something else that you should know… and that’s the reason why I was strongly urged to get you involved in this.”

  *

  Today.

  The chief of Police, Gottardi, was in his office on the third floor of the police department in Florence. He ruffled his long hair nervously. “You’re saying that he could be up to an hour ahead of us?”

  “He went to the greenhouse with the nurses at 6 p.m.; he had to be back at the hospital at eight. The alarm was given at 6.50 p.m., when the bodies of the two nurses were found. It was mayhem, Mr Gottardi.”

  Gottardi glanced at his watch. “7.03 p.m. is more than an hour past six but he can’t have acted on the spur of the moment; he must have waited for the right time.” Gottardi almost muttered to himself. “Maybe he’s less than an hour ah
ead; the hospital is surrounded by fields. He doesn’t have any money or documents, he’s soaked from walking in the rain wearing just his tracksuit and a t-shirt and he’s probably covered in the blood of his victims.”

  How far could he have walked in the pouring rain?

  “He can’t be that far away,” Gottardi said confidently. “Let’s search within a five mile radius. Are there any towns or villages within this area?”

  “The hospital is completely isolated, it’s in the middle of the countryside. There are only farms around here, we’re the only major building in the area. The city and its neighbouring towns and villages are about ten miles away.”

  Could he have found a vehicle? That was unlikely, but not impossible. Gottardi took his coat from the stand decisively.

  “I want police patrols on the main roads immediately, please. Let’s co-ordinate our search with the Carabinieri. We have to keep a police presence at the train and bus stations nearby. Let’s keep an eye on any car theft reports in the area. Let’s move, I’m heading to the site.”

  As he hopped in the police car, Gottardi wondered why that man had been allowed to use secateurs when he had been taken to the psychiatric hospital for multiple murders. Somebody would have to tell the relatives of the victims.

  *

  A car appeared from around the corner – it was as if it came straight out of the dark clouds on the horizon. The windscreen wipers worked desperately while the car edged forward slowly.

  “The Fox will make a move and then it’s your turn, Hannibal.”

  The Fox moved to the edge of the road. As the car approached, he began to sway; he put his hands on his chest and dropped to his knees – he raised his hand towards the approaching car in a desperate plea for help.

  There was just one man in the car – excellent, he couldn’t wish for any more. The car pulled over about fifteen metres away from him in the pouring rain. The driver got out of his car and ran towards the Fox, who was still on his knees looking desperate and in pain. As the driver reached the Fox, he leaned towards him in the thundering rain. The driver didn’t have time to say a single word – Hannibal’s hands gripped his neck mercilessly. The man tried to pull away and to hit his aggressor; he struggled with all his might, but he lost strength with every moment that passed. Then, the last jerks – he remained still, hanging in Hannibal’s hands, his arms dangling lifelessly.