Текст книги "The Executioner"

Автор книги: Chris (2) Carter

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Текущая страница: 26 (всего у книги 27 страниц)

Hundred and Thirty-Three

‘Strutter,’ Hunter said, already knowing he was right.

‘He never changed.’ Tyler was fidgeting. ‘After all that time he was still a fucking bully. He made a scene and the manager asked him to leave. Everyone was staring at him, but for some reason he noticed Kate. He walked over to our table and said, “What the fuck are you looking at, you ugly pig?”’ Pain and anger erupted through Tyler’s body and he shuddered. ‘He made the same pig noises he used to taunt her with all those years ago, as if he’d recognized her.’ He shook his head in disgust. ‘Stupid me. I froze and didn’t do anything. I just sat there and watched him walk away after humiliating my wife once again. Kate wouldn’t stop crying after that and a week later she miscarried.’

Hunter shivered. Here comes the ‘last straw’.

‘She wanted that baby more than life itself. And to numb the pain, last New Year’s Eve she swallowed a bottle of sleeping pills.’ Tyler stood before the pictures on the wall, drooling with anger. ‘The psychological damage they did to Kate when she was young had been such that even after all those years it took only his voice and a few seconds to rip her apart.’ Tyler turned and faced Hunter. ‘I thought I had nothing else to live for. My nightmare had finally become a reality. And then I saw an article in the paper with a picture of a smiling priest – Brett fucking Nichols.’

Hunter remembered he and Garcia had found that same article inside Father Fabian’s room.

‘I realized that while I suffered, while Kate took her own life because of what they did to us, Strutter and his gang were living normal lives. All of a sudden I had a reason to live again.’

‘Revenge,’ Hunter whispered.

‘Yes.’ Tyler smiled. ‘The strongest reason of all. I swore I’d find them all and I’d make them pay. By the anniversary of Kate’s death, they’d all be dead. I’d mark Strutter with the blood of the family he killed, my own blood, and number the rest of them with their friends’. I’d make them suffer in the most grotesque way I could. I had money, lots of it, and in my world money is power. I hired people to dig into their lives. To find out where they were and what scared them to death. Everyone is scared of something, detective. Not necessarily a phobia, but if you dig deep enough you’ll find that everyone is scared of something. They had no right to destroy our lives.’

Tyler’s voice started to quiver. He was losing control. Hunter shifted uncomfortably on his knees, tugging at his cuffed hands.

‘Kate and mine were only two, but how many lives do you think they destroyed? Did they think they could do anything they wanted with no consequences? Well, they can’t. I’m their fucking consequence,’ he shouted while punching his chest with a closed fist. ‘They created me. They created the anger and hate that run through my veins. Hatred gave me something to live for again. Seeing the fear in their eyes as they recognized Kate’s picture, as they realized they were about to die their worst imaginable death, filled me with a mind-boggling pleasure. It changed me. And suddenly I wanted more than their lives and their fears. Torturing and killing them alone didn’t satisfy me. I needed to taste their blood and savor their flesh. It made me feel . . . powerfully different. You should try it sometime, detective. It’s a high like no other. Literally consuming your enemy – very addictive.’ Spit flew from his mouth as Tyler lost control. He approached the table and grabbed Hunter’s gun. ‘And no one will stop me from finishing this. No one will stop me from having the rest of their blood. NO ONE.’

Time was up.

Tyler took a step forward, aimed the gun at Garcia’s head and squeezed the trigger.

Hundred and Thirty-Four

Mollie Woods closed her eyes and allowed the strong jet of hot water to massage her stiff muscles. A thin gauze of steam had filled the tiny bathroom and was now creeping under its door and into the small hallway. It’d been a few hours since she had the vision, and still she couldn’t stop shaking. She knew he was coming for her. She saw blood and panic and fear, and she had to run away.

She leaned against the white tiles and wondered if she’d done the right thing. She didn’t know many people in LA. In fact, the only real friend she’d made since she arrived three years ago had been Susan Zieliski. Susan had told Mollie once, who she knew as Monica, that if she ever needed anything she could always count on her.

Mollie was shivering and crying when she knocked on Susan’s door less than an hour ago. Her friend was instantly worried, and Mollie fed her a silly story about an argument and a breakup with her boyfriend.

‘I didn’t even know you had a boyfriend,’ Susan said, giving Mollie a comforting hug. ‘He didn’t hit you, did he? Because if he did we should call the cops on the jerk.’

They talked for a while over a pot of freshly brewed coffee. Mollie had to snowball her story into a much bigger lie.

‘You should stay here tonight, Monica,’ Susan said. ‘Actually, you can stay for as long as you like. I’d love the company.’

Mollie’s smile said a silent ‘thank you’.

‘You look cold. Why don’t you go and have a hot shower and I’ll fix us something to eat. Then I can tell you about some great news I had today.’

Mollie turned off the water and slid open the cubicle door. Her clothes lay coiled on the floor where she had stepped out of them. Susan had supplied her with clean towels, so she wrapped one around her body and used the other as a turban around her wet hair. With her right hand she cleared a circular patch on the misty mirror and stared at her face.

She had decided that she’d call Hunter, at least to let him know she was OK. She’d been unfair with him when all he’d tried to do was help her. And in her fear of what might happen, she’d broken her promise to him and turned off her cell phone.

Suddenly, a disturbing sensation ran the length of Mollie’s body. Frightened, she turned around and faced the bathroom door as if someone was there, staring at her. She was sure she’d heard something that sounded like a muffled scream. She stood perfectly still for a moment listening, but the only sound she could hear was the slow drip from the showerhead. With trembling hands, she reached for the handle and pulled the bathroom door open just enough for her to be able to peek outside. All the lights were off.

‘Susan?’ Mollie called in an uncertain voice.

Silence.

Cautiously, she stepped into the corridor and waited.

Nothing.

To the left the small living room and the kitchen, to the right the bedroom, but the apartment looked lifeless – it felt lifeless.

‘Susan? Is everything OK?’ Her voice had started quivering with tears. With frail steps, Mollie went left, leaving delicate, wet footprints on the hardwood floor. She wasn’t familiar with the apartment’s layout, which was now illuminated only by the light that escaped from the bathroom. She used her hands to warily feel her way forward and stopped as she reached the living room. An uncontrollable rush of fear made her convulse and she tried in vain to fight the tears that blurred her vision.

‘Susan, where are you?’

Mollie cleared her eyes and took one more step forward.

The bathroom light went off behind her.

Hundred and Thirty-Five

Hunter had run out of time.

With deadly determination, Tyler raised his weapon, aiming it at Garcia’s head and pulled the trigger.

Click – nothing.

Tyler’s face burned with rage and confusion as he tried one more time, but again the gun didn’t fire.

In a flash, Hunter jumped to his feet, his hands magically freed from the handcuffs. Before Tyler could react, Hunter delivered a well-placed punch into his ribs, crushing the air out of his lungs. He tumbled to the floor but managed to swing his right leg around with tremendous force, hooking away Hunter’s legs. Hunter hit the ground hard with the small of his back, the impact sending a sickening shudder through the rest of him. Awkwardly, he immediately rolled left, anticipating and escaping Tyler’s follow-through head-crushing kick.

Tyler never let go of the gun. He finally realized what had happened. Before Hunter placed his weapon on the floor and kicked it over as he was ordered to do, he’d skillfully thumbed the safety into the lock position. Clever. It gave Hunter the precious seconds he needed to react. But Tyler wasn’t about to make the same mistake twice. He unlocked the weapon, swung his arm around and fired.

Hunter rolled right this time, but not fast enough. As the deafening gunshot noise echoed through the basement room, he felt a searing, nauseating pain envelop his left arm. He had to think quickly. He knew a second shot was coming fast. Before Tyler could aim the gun again, Hunter’s instincts took over and he kicked out. His left boot found the same patch of ribs as his fist moments earlier.

Winded, momentarily powerless and propelled by Hunter’s kick, Tyler’s defensive reaction was to roll away towards the metal table and underneath it to the other side, creating a temporary barrier between him and Hunter.

They both got to their feet at the same time. Blood was dripping down Hunter’s arm, but he knew he’d been lucky. He’d heard the bullet explode against the wall behind him, which meant that despite the excruciating pain the bullet had exited his arm cleanly. No bone or major arteries were hit. He saw the gun in Tyler’s right hand rising towards him again. This time Hunter was certain luck wouldn’t be so kind. In a desperate survival reaction, he jumped forward. His good arm stretched high above his head in a diving position. He knew he couldn’t get to Tyler from where he was, but he could get to the metal table. And that’s exactly what he did, pushing it and smashing its edge into Tyler’s upper thighs. Unbalanced, Tyler stumbled back, crashing hard against the brick wall. But he still held onto the gun. His eyes burned with murderous hate as he lifted his head, searching for Hunter, his finger tense against the trigger once again.

Left – nothing.

Right – nothing.

Where the hell was he?

Hunter’s sweeping floor kick came from under the table, taking Tyler’s legs from beneath him. Tyler flew up in the air and hit the floor awkwardly with a cracking noise. Shoulder first followed by his head. The impact strong enough to fill his vision with splashing balls of light for a couple of seconds. As they faded, his eyes focused on the barrel of a gun.

‘As I said before,’ Hunter said, holding Garcia’s gun that’d fallen to the floor when the metal table was pushed. ‘It’s over, Dan.’

Hundred and Thirty-Six

Hunter cuffed Tyler’s hands behind his back using the same handcuffs he’d escaped from less than a minute ago.

‘Carlos, wake up.’ Hunter tapped his face.

A nervous twitch followed by incoherent mumble.

Another face tap. ‘Carlos, are you OK?’

Garcia coughed, spitting out blood. He blinked several times as his eyes adjusted to the poor light.

‘What the fuck happened?’ he asked, looking at the mess in the room, a captured Dan Tyler and a bleeding Hunter.

‘You don’t really wanna know,’ Hunter said, freeing Garcia from the chair.

‘You need a hospital.’

‘So do you.’ Hunter chuckled. ‘Your nose doesn’t look too good.’

‘It doesn’t feel too good either. Actually, it hurts like fuck,’ Garcia replied, touching it with the tips of his fingers and recoiling with pain.

‘Let’s call this in first.’

Before Hunter had a chance to dial, his cell phone rang. The display showed Mollie’s number.

‘Mollie? Where are you? Are you OK? Where did you go?’

‘He . . . he’s here.’ Her voice was just a trembling whisper.

‘What? What’re you talking about, Mollie? I can barely hear you.’

‘He’s here.’

‘Who is where? And why are you whispering?’

‘Because he’s here. He’s in the apartment,’ she said between terrified, shallow breaths. ‘He’s after me. The killer came after me.’

‘Mollie, calm down.’ Hunter tried to keep his voice steady and winced as a new surge of pain burned through his left arm. ‘He isn’t after you. We’ve got him. He’s right here in front of me and he isn’t going anywhere. You don’t have to be scared anymore, Mollie.’

‘No. You’ve got someone else.’

Her tears were making it harder for Hunter to understand her. ‘What? What do you mean I’ve got someone else?’

‘He . . . he’s here in the apartment.’

Hunter’s gaze met Tyler’s. Only then he realized the challenging grin on the stockbroker’s lips.

‘You made a mistake, detective.’ The grin widened into a cold smile. ‘It wasn’t me who she should’ve been afraid of.’

Garcia shuddered. ‘What the fuck is he talking about?’

Hunter’s mouth went dry. ‘Mollie, talk to me. Are you still there?’

Mollie was so afraid she’d lost direction and wandered into the bedroom. The darkness was almost complete, except for the dusty sliver of colored light that crept in through the opening in the curtains. Confused and shaking, she turned around, not really knowing what she was looking for, and fear paralyzed her. From the corner of the room, hidden in the shadows, a pair of eyes blinked at her.

Hundred and Thirty-Seven

The tires of the Type R Honda Civic screeched loudly as Hunter took the turn and sped down South Beverly Glen Boulevard. He had no time to explain, taking Garcia’s car and leaving him to call Captain Blake and run her through what had happened in Dan Tyler’s house.

Trevor Tollino called Hunter as soon as he and Mollie had disconnected.

‘Talk to me, Trevor,’ Hunter shouted, hooking his phone to the car’s speaker system. ‘Where the fuck am I going?’

‘She’s in Downey, Robert, but I still don’t have an exact location. Her phone only came back onto the grid a few minutes ago, but the good news is that it’s still on. If it stays that way for another ten to fifteen minutes, with the phone’s GPS I’ll get you to within five feet of her.’

From San Diego Freeway Hunter took the exit onto I-105 East and joined Glenn M Anderson Freeway doing ninety miles an hour.

‘Trevor, how’re we doing? I’ll be in Downey in a couple of minutes.’

‘Almost there, almost there. Somewhere in Stewart and Gray Road. Do you need directions?’

‘No, I know the road. What I need is an address.’

Hunter’s left arm burned with a sickening pain. The bullet had cut through his triceps, so any arm extending movement was pure agony. He’d driven most of the way using only his right arm.

‘I got it, Robert,’ Trevor’s husky voice came through the speakers. ‘9160 Stewart and Gray Road. It’s a complex comprised of seven buildings called Villa Downey Apartments. The signal is coming from the second building on the right as you drive into the parking lot from the main road. Second-floor apartment on the farmost end of the block.’

By the time Hunter turned into the road, rain was coming down in blinding sheets. ‘I’m right on top of it. Get me some backup, Trevor.’

The improvised tourniquet Garcia had tied around his arm had loosened and Hunter was bleeding again. Pausing to use his teeth and right hand, he retightened the knot as best as he could. The piercing pain sucked the air out of his lungs and everything spun for an instant.

The second-floor corridor was long, narrow, eerily silent and in darkness. All the lights had been smashed. Hunter had no time to wait for the backup. Gun in hand, he moved down the corridor as cautiously and fast as he could. At the end of it, he tried the door Trevor had indicated – unlocked. He slowly pushed it open with the barrel of his weapon. From outside, he hooked his hand around the door frame, searching for the light switch. When he found it, he flicked it up and down a few times – still darkness.

Shit!

He had two options: put up with the pain of a torn triceps and use his pencil flashlight, or take his chances in a pitch-black apartment. Hunter gritted his teeth while inhaling a long, deep breath. Flashlight at the ready, he stepped inside.

The living room was small and sparsely furnished, but with enough hidden corners to set alarm bells ringing. From the entrance, Hunter noticed an open-plan kitchen and a short corridor that led to a closed door. He needed to check those hidden corners before proceeding. Tightening his grip around his weapon, he moved forward watchfully. He’d taken only a couple of steps when something made him stop dead. He picked up a heavy metallic scent and his heart sank. He knew that odor extremely well.

Blood.

From the strength of the smell he knew there was a lot of it. He spun around slowly, the beam of his flashlight searching everywhere. He almost choked when he finally saw her.

‘Oh God, no.’

She was naked and kneeling against the corner. Her breasts and abdomen covered in blood that’d cascaded from her slit throat.

Hundred and Thirty-Eight

Hunter ran towards the girl. Only when he got closer and kneeled down beside her he realized her hair was blond, so blond it was almost white. He aimed his flashlight at her face. Her deep-blue eyes were open. Frozen in eternal terror – a snapshot of her horrifying final moments. But it wasn’t Mollie.

Clunk.

Hunter jumped to his feet. His senses on high alert. The noise had come from the small hallway next to the kitchen. Quickly and quietly he placed his back against the wall to the right of the corridor’s entrance, took a deep breath and rotated his body into it. His gun searching for a target. All was still, but something had changed. The door at the end of the hall was open. Hunter was sure it was closed when he’d entered the apartment. Weak, flickering lights illuminated the bedroom. Candles, Hunter decided. A trap, he was certain of it, but he had no choice.

He heard a choked whimper, and a shock of hope shot up his spine. He knew it was Mollie, but he sensed a second presence. She wasn’t alone.

As he took his first step into the hallway, Hunter’s head whooshed. He had no idea of how much blood he’d lost so far, but he was fast becoming light-headed and weak. He took a moment to regain his balance. All of a sudden, Mollie was dragged into his field of vision by a tall and well-built figure. A gun pressed firmly against her head. She was naked, terrified and crying.

‘Mollie,’ Hunter murmured. And though his protective instincts told him to go to her, he held his position. His gun trained at the mysterious figure hiding behind her.

‘Drop the gun, detective.’

Hunter hesitated.

The man pressed the barrel of his weapon hard against Mollie’s temple. ‘Drop the gun or she dies – right here, right now.’

‘OK.’ Hunter loosened his grip and his gun rotated around his trigger finger. ‘I’m putting my gun down. Let’s talk. No one has to die here.’

Mollie choked on her tears and her body jerked forward violently, but it was held by the man’s strong hand.

‘Put the gun on the floor and kick it this way with enough strength for it to reach me. If it doesn’t, she dies and then you die.’

Déjà vu, Hunter thought and did as he was told.

As Hunter’s weapon slid across the floor, the man stepped from behind Mollie and stopped the gun with his right foot. His eyes moved down for a fraction of a second, not long enough for Hunter to react.

‘H&K USP Tactical?’ The man sounded impressed. ‘The favorite weapon of Navy Seals and special government operatives. Good choice. I can see you know your guns.’

‘So do you.’ Hunter shot back.

‘That I do.’ He smiled viciously.

Through the dim light, Hunter could finally make out the man’s features. A face marked by a hard and unhappy life. Deep lines, rough skin, cold and sad eyes and an ugly scar that ran from the top right-hand corner of his left eye to the middle of his forehead. Hunter didn’t need to search long to see the resemblance. There was something of him in Mollie. Maybe the mouth or the nose, but it was certainly there. He was her father.

Hundred and Thirty-Nine

John Woods kicked Hunter’s gun to one side.

Hunter kept his hands away from his body, around head height with his palms facing forward. Showing he was no threat.

John’s eyes settled on the bloody rag on Hunter’s left arm. ‘That looks painful and you look pale. I guess you lost a lot of blood, huh?’

Hunter didn’t reply.

‘Slowly, lift the edge of your trousers.’

‘I don’t have a backup weapon.’

‘I’ll check that for myself. Now lift them.’

Hunter did.

John grabbed Mollie by the hair and violently pushed her out of the way. She stumbled to the ground with a loud thump. ‘Go back to the corner, kneel and pray,’ he commanded. ‘I ain’t finished with you yet. Pray for your mother and for your sins, you little whore.’

Hunter could hear her desperate attempt to suppress her sobbing, as if the sound of her crying would enrage her father even more. John was too far away for Hunter to attempt any physical reaction at the moment. He had to think of something. While John’s gaze was on Mollie, Hunter took a shallow step forward.

‘You don’t have to do this,’ he said tentatively.

‘YES I DO,’ John shouted back. ‘I failed my task the first time, but the Lord has given me a second chance. A chance for me to redeem myself. And this time I won’t fall short.’

‘You failed your task because you didn’t understand it,’ Hunter replied in a secure voice, being careful not to match John’s aggressive tone, knowing it would only anger him further.

The doubt in John’s eyes was brief, but enough to give Hunter a chance to carry on.

Another shallow step. ‘You thought your task was to punish your daughter, to rid her of her affliction, or what you considered to be an affliction – the fact that she can sense other people’s pain.’

‘She’s got the devil inside her, that’s why she sees things – demoniac things.’ John’s aim never left Hunter.

‘No, she doesn’t. That’s where you got it wrong.’ Hunter knew John Woods was an extremely religious man. He had to play John’s game if he was to stand a chance of saving Mollie. ‘You misunderstood what God has asked of you. Your task wasn’t to punish her. It was to help her.’

A moment of uncertainty.

‘I understood God’s words clearly. He talks to me,’ John said confidently, stabbing his left index finger against his head. ‘She was a test from the moment she was born.’

‘Exactly,’ Hunter confirmed. ‘A test to see how you would cope with having such a special child. To see if you could understand.’

‘THERE’S NOTHING TO UNDERSTAND,’ John shouted back.

‘Yes, there is. It’s been part of our history since the beginning of time.’

A glimpse of curiosity washed over John’s face.

‘Think back to all the stories in the Bible. How many saints, how many people who only wished to do good were misunderstood, persecuted, even considered hell-sent and executed before they were finally seen for what they really were and given the credit they deserved? And that’s simply because people didn’t want to understand. Don’t make that same mistake with Mollie.’

‘There’s nothing special about having the devil inside you.’ John’s speech was becoming faster, more excited. ‘I was supposed to rid her of her curse, but I failed and I’ve lived in hell ever since. My task is now to see that she asks for forgiveness, and then send her to the only one who can forgive her.’

‘Your task is to kill her?’

‘Praise the Lord. The devil shall be no more.’