The Executioner

Thirty-Six

Hunter went silent for a few seconds while his mind kept going over the facts, digesting what Garcia had just told him. A secret nightmare that had tormented and scared Father Fabian for over twenty years. A nightmare that someone had gone to great lengths to make a reality.

Garcia spoke first.

‘The killer could’ve read the journal just like we did, but the altar boy told us that there’d never been a break-in and no one had access to the priest’s room, except the priest himself.’ He stood up, approached one of the windows and pushed it wide open. Their office wasn’t particularly stuffy, but he suddenly felt the need for some fresh air.

Hunter let out a constricted breath. ‘I don’t believe the killer found out about the nightmare through the diaries.’

‘Why not? We did.’

‘Exactly. There are two of us.’ Hunter leaned back on his chair. ‘We read solidly for almost three days. How many journals did we get through before you came across the pages that told us about the dream?’

‘Several,’ Garcia admitted, slowly running his right hand over his face.

‘The killer would’ve needed either a lot of luck, or a lot of undisturbed time with the journals to have found out about the dream the same way we did. And if that’s the case, why didn’t he just take the book with him? Why leave it behind? The journals aren’t numbered or dated. We would’ve never known one was missing.’

‘So how?’ Garcia stopped in front of Hunter’s desk, his hands resting on his hips.

‘The journal entries aren’t dated.’ Hunter gestured towards the books on his desk. ‘The priest could’ve written that specific entry you read last week or five years ago.’

It took Garcia only a few seconds to catch up with Hunter’s line of thought. ‘So you’re thinking the priest could’ve told someone after he wrote the entry.’

Hunter nodded. ‘The dream had obviously gotten too much for the priest. He tried the writing down therapy. That didn’t work.’

‘So the next logical stage would’ve been to step it up a notch and tell someone,’ Garcia concluded, and Hunter agreed.

The phone on Hunter’s desk rang and he picked it up before the second ring. He looked concerned as he listened.

‘We’ll be right down.’

‘What’s up?’ Garcia asked.

‘There’s someone downstairs, a member of the public, who wants to talk to us.’

‘About what?’

‘Father Fabian’s killer.’