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.’
Hundred and Forty
The argument was slipping away from Hunter. If it did, he knew he and Mollie were as good as dead.
‘Why would God give you such a vain task when he’s omnipotent?’ he asked steadily. ‘Isn’t God almighty? Doesn’t God have the power to give and take life at the blink of an eye? If God wanted Mollie dead, why would he need you? A snap of his fingers and she’d be gone. And what would you have gained from that?’ Hunter paused for a split second and saw doubt flourish in John Woods’s eyes. He quickly pressed on. ‘Nothing. No knowledge, no experience, no lesson learned. A futile task that would’ve taken God a nanosecond to complete. My understanding is that God doesn’t hand out futile tasks.’