Erika's Reviews > The Crucifix Killer

Robert Hunter works for the Robbery & Homicide Department in Los Angeles, California and remembers well the serial murders that started two years ago. The kills seemed random, but gruesome; victims were tortured and left to die with only one clue to tie them all to the same killer: an odd double crucifix symbol carved in the back of their necks. With clean crime scenes and no other identifying trademarks, the media and police nicknamed the murderer “The Crucifix Killer.” Thinking RHD had caught the right man, a trial was set and a man was found guilty and killed. But Hunter and his partner knew better. Unable to prove their misgivings despite a confession, the two were forced to move forward with their guilt. Hunter suffered nightmares, his partner and wife were soon after killed in a boating accident.

With his partner’s death and the crucifix killings still fresh, Hunter receives a new partner and together they investigate a new murder scene with familiar repercussions. On the victim’s neck is the double crucifix mark he remembers well from a couple of years earlier, but is it the same killer or a copycat? A phone call and familiar voice bring back chilling memories and confirm Hunter’s suspicions: the Crucifix Killer is back.

Chris Carter’s The Crucifix Killer opens to a disturbing scene as Hunter receives a phone tip from what we can only then assume is the killer. He rushes to a revealed location and finds his partner, Garcia, tied and hung onto poles and we wonder, will Hunter be able to save him in time? The rest of the book fills in the five weeks prior to this moment, but unfortunately do little else.

Carter’s writing is far from poetic. His narrative is more instructive and devoid of emotion and character development, as if the entire book was an exercise in showing off Carter’s knowledge of criminal psychology. He does a lot of the dreaded “show, don’t tell” with numerous character portraits that give away information that’s less than crucial to our understanding of them as tools in the story. With so much condensed back story for each character, I felt Carter was pushing too hard for the reader to gain any actual insight into their psyche (as if we’ve all graduated with degrees in criminal psychology and like Hunter can pull pertinent information from someone’s hair and eye color, occupation, or childhood). Instead their histories were awkward, placed as if Carter couldn’t imagine leaving this useless information out of the book however misplaced it looked.

The bad dialogue only added to the disappointing caricatures of a cast of characters derived from Hollywood-inspired stereotypes. One character touts the correctness of using the term “Black” over anything else, but in this weak effort to promote some type of politically correct agenda, Carter’s characters nevertheless fall victim to his own preconceived notions of what it means to be “Black” or Puerto Rican. Since I read a proof copy, I’m refraining from using actual quotes, but am particularly confused about the way he portrayed people of color. In one scene Hunter and Garcia dismiss the possibility that Cubans or Puerto Ricans could ever listen to anything other than salsa or meringue music. He also gives a Puerto Rican free use of the very Mexican slang term “ese.” Blacks (Carter’s term) in this book also frequently use the word “nigga”--as if it’s a cultural requirement or makes one appear tougher and so must be used by someone expected to appear so.

None of the characters or relationships have any depth to them. After going on a couple of dates with Isabella, an awkward construction of sexuality and girlish giggling, Hunter quickly loses interest with her as fast as I lost interest in both him and the plot. The writing is choppy and blundering, the men drunkards and the women either prostitutes or wives, and the twist ending was a cliché. While the cover image was disturbing and the premise intriguing, the overuse of quick and easy dialogue, gestures, and scenarios cheapened what could have been a phenomenally scary read (what I was expecting). To make matters worse, the most vital pieces of information aren’t revealed to the reader in any way throughout the narrative and are instead contrived into the final pages of the book as Hunter works within his and Carter’s head to piece together clues the reader would never be able to figure out on their own. The presumed insult to the reader, robbing them of not just the satisfaction of figuring it all out on their own, but the ability to do so, is a huge let down.

Carter uses a lot of odd phrasing to encompass facial expressions and tones of voice that clearly make sense only to him. I’m also left confused as to the type of In & Out restaurant Carter refers to when he mentions waitresses and a dessert menu. I’m from California, I have an In & Out in my city and it’s a fast food joint. The only thing available for dessert are smoothies; employees do not come out from behind the counter to ask how your meal is going, they clean the tables, seats, floors, and bathrooms. They may even bring your bagged or trayed food to your table. That is it. Maybe someone in LA can let me know if these vastly different chains of In & Out actually exist there, leaving the rest of us sorely deprived?

Before this book, I already knew I wasn’t a fan of crime fiction, and I don’t recommend this to people who are unless they want a quick clichéd read filled with cheap thrills and cardboard characters. If you don’t mind being preempted in the thought process and having everything laid out before you, this might be the book for you. I was disappointed.