The Executioner

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.