The Executioner

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.’

The concern in John’s face grew.

‘Your task was to understand your daughter. To help her control and comprehend the gift she’d been given. Who do you think gave her that gift in the first place, John? The devil doesn’t have that power.’

Another head whoosh. Hunter could feel the blood running down his arm. He could hear it dripping onto the floor and he felt his legs starting to lose their strength. He knew he didn’t have much time left.

‘She cursed her mother,’ John shot back with rage. ‘She told her she would die.’

‘No, she didn’t. She tried to prevent it, and if you had listened to her your wife would be here now. Don’t you see, John? Hidden in Mollie’s gift is the ability to help people. She can help prevent some people from suffering, but she can’t do it alone. She needs others to listen to her.’

‘Like you did?’

‘Yes, like I did. She was crying out for your help. And she still is. All she needed was your support, your understanding. Your task was to see beyond the masquerade. To overcome your own prejudice and find good in what you thought was evil.’

John shifted his weight from one leg to the other. He looked uncomfortable, doubtful of his actions. His grip on the gun slackened a fraction and Hunter ventured a new step forward, but John snapped back as if waking up from a dream.

‘NO.’ His shout was full of anger. ‘I followed the task as it was given to me. She has to die. Like all the others had to die.’

Others? Hunter thought.

‘They had to die so I could find the devil child.’

And suddenly it dawned on Hunter. The blond girl in the living room – on her knees – her throat slit open. Claire Anderson – her throat slit open. The girls in the paper. Hunter read it so quickly he’d forgotten about them. They were all brunettes. They were all around Mollie’s age. And they all had been found naked, on their knees, hands tied in a prayer position with their throats cut open. John Woods had been in LA for days searching for Mollie. His frustration and anger exploding inside him as he failed to locate her. He projected his hatred onto girls that looked like her. He was killing Mollie over and over again. But more than that, John did believe his daughter was special, that she could sense other people’s suffering. He knew she was a good person. He knew she would always try to help. He killed those girls not only because they looked like Mollie, but so Mollie would sense it. He was flushing her out. John Woods was the Slasher.

‘And die she will,’ John said, lifting his gun. ‘And so will you.’

Hunter saw the determination in John’s eyes as he tightened his finger around the trigger.

Game over.