Chris Carter - The Executioner

‘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.

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.

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.’