The Executioner

Hundred and Sixteen

‘Wherever it is that you’re going I’m coming with,’ Garcia said, reaching for his jacket as Hunter ran past him and out into the corridor. ‘What’s going on, Robert?’

Hunter didn’t answer. He didn’t stop or turn around. Garcia only managed to catch up with him when they reached the parking lot.

‘You’re driving,’ Hunter said, pressing the speed dial button on his cell phone. He got the prerecorded message straight away.

‘Where am I going?’ Garcia asked as he turned on the engine.

‘Drive as if you were going to my place. The hotel where Mollie is staying is just three blocks from me.’

‘What happened?’

Hunter recounted the conversation he’d had with Mollie.

‘Holy shit!’ Garcia’s eyes widened. ‘When did she have the vision?’

‘I don’t know. I told you word for word what she said.’

‘And the connection simply went dead?’

A quick nod. ‘As if somebody had snapped the phone shut. I just tried calling her back – voice mail.’ Hunter closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose and forced himself to think clearly. Mollie hadn’t been exact when she told him that she’d left the hotel. That could’ve been ten minutes or five hours ago. She could still be in the hotel vicinity, or miles away by now. But where would she go?

Hunter remembered Mollie mentioning a friend she used to work with called Susan, but that was done in passing and he had no address for her.

‘Did she have any money?’ Garcia asked, eager to help.

Hunter opened his eyes and looked at his partner. ‘Not enough for a ticket anywhere,’ he replied, already knowing what Garcia was thinking. He tried her cell phone again – prerecorded message.

They arrived at the Travel Inn in East Florence Avenue in less than twelve minutes. It was a typical two-story, U-shaped travelers’ hotel found all across America. No need to go through reception to get to the rooms. Both detectives rushed up to number 219 on the second floor. They knocked on the door, tapped on the window and called her name. Mollie wasn’t in.