Chris Carter: Gallery of the Dead

‘In my debt? For what?’

‘For saving her daughter’s life. She told me to tell you that you managed to do what she had failed to.’

Right then, Kennedy’s cellphone rang. He retrieved it from his pocket and brought it to his ear.

‘Director Adrian Kennedy,’ he said into the phone.

The next several seconds were spent listening. Within the first five seconds, Kennedy’s facial expression morphed to confusion. Five seconds later, to disbelief. Five seconds after that, to shock and anger.

‘What do you mean, he’s gone ?’

Those words prompted Hunter, Garcia and Captain Blake to look back at Kennedy expectantly.

‘He killed three guards?’

‘What’s going on?’ Garcia asked.

Kennedy lifted a hand, signaling him to wait.

‘So he waltzed past security, just like that?’ Kennedy’s hoarse voice was getting louder with every word. ‘What kind of amateurish, shit security do we run down there? It was supposed to be a maximum-security facility. Do they even know the meaning of the word maximum or security ? I want a nationwide APB to go out now, and I mean NOW. I’m on my way back.’

Kennedy disconnected from the call. The look in his eyes as he looked back at Hunter was overflowing with sorrow.

‘What’s going on, Adrian?’ Hunter asked, his voice unaltered.

‘He’s gone,’ Kennedy replied. His voice, on the other hand, was unsteady, the look in his eyes now vacant. ‘He’s escaped.’

‘Who escaped?’ Garcia jumped to his feet. ‘Arthur Weber escaped?’

‘No,’ Kennedy replied. ‘Not Arthur Weber.’

Fear shot up Hunter’s spine like a derailed train because he already knew the name Kennedy was about to throw at him.

‘Lucien,’ Kennedy said.

Hunter closed his eyes.

‘Lucien?’ Garcia asked, his gaze playing ping-pong between Hunter and Director Kennedy. ‘Who’s Lucien?’

‘Lucien Folter has escaped,’ Kennedy confirmed. His entire demeanor had changed. It now seemed leaden with anguish.

Garcia had never seen his partner look the way he did right at that moment. If he didn’t know better, he could’ve sworn that Hunter looked almost scared.

‘Robert, who the hell is Lucien Folter?’

My most sincere gratitude goes to my agent, Darley Anderson, and everyone at the Darley Anderson Literary Agency for their never-ending strive to promote my work anywhere and everywhere possible.

And to Jo Dickinson, my incredible editor; as well as everyone at Simon & Schuster for their tremendous support and tremendous hard work.

Kara Louise, for her tolerance, her understanding, her belief, and frankly for putting up with me.