He was torn.

Felicia needed him. But if he allowed Lexa and Gabriel to escape, there was no telling how many more victims they would kill. Maybe not here, but in another town. Another province. Another country. Everywhere Lexa went, she left a trail of death in her wake. And over the years, she’d programmed Gabriel into being the Adder. All in all, it made one thing clear.

‘They have to be stopped.’

At any cost.

Striker turned back towards the cabin. It looked smaller now. Secluded and empty. Almost all the inside lights were off, and from this new location, Striker could hear the chug-chug-chug of the generator running out back.

Where Dalia had run from.

Striker readied his pistol, then made his way around the lot towards the back of the cabin. He reached the corner of the house, raised his pistol and peered around the edge. Everything there was quiet and the lake was eerily still. Fog floated across the water and through the trees like a living beast, so thick that Striker could not see across the lake. Out there, across the thin ice, there was only a rolling mass of cold murky blackness.

But no Lexa.

And no Gabriel.

Striker rounded the corner and made his way towards the cabin. The sliding glass door was wide open and the kitchen light was on. He walked up the slippery wooden steps of the porch, came flush with the entrance, and looked around the area.

No one was there to be seen.

He stepped forward into the kitchen and listened to the sound of his shoes against the hard tiles of the floor. Slowly, cautiously, he made his way through the first floor, and then the second.

The place was empty.

They were gone.

Frustrated, he made his way back outside. He stood on the porch and shone his flashlight around the lake. At first he saw nothing.

Then he discovered the body.

It was a few feet out from the edge, where the ice thinned and turned to freezing lake water. As he closed in on it, he saw that it was lying face down. He crouched low, reached out with one hand, and grabbed hold of the arm. When he flipped it over, a sense of desperation filled him.

It was Lexa.

The Adder had killed her. He was spiralling out of control.

And he was gone.

One Hundred

The voices were back, the laughter and giggles echoing in his head. But this time, the Adder managed to control them. He had lost his most precious of all precious videos and he did not have the headphones he needed for his iPhone, so he could not even listen to the white noise.

It did not matter.

A new sense of control filled his body. Electric. Empowering. Like ice water in his veins. Ever since breaching the line – ever since killing the Doctor – a sense of invulnerability had filled him. He was unstoppable.

Completely, utterly, one hundred per cent unstoppable.

And he nearly laughed out loud as he realized that.

He moved slowly through the wooded grove. Speed was not necessary. What mattered here was silence. Stealth. Besides, there was little point in running through the forest blind. Broken ankles were bad for the killing business.

As he walked steadfastly, thoughts of Jacob Striker filled his head. The big detective had looked so determined back at the cabin, so intense and powerful. The Adder had watched him from the shadows, impressed.

It had been foolish to do so – he should have been gaining as much ground between them as he could. But something about the detective intrigued the Adder. The man had a magnetic presence.

Like a tar pit sucking him down.

He headed straight north and, when he found the proper trail, increased his speed towards Green Lake. That was where Striker would eventually find him. It was a certainty. Because the Adder knew something important that no one else had known – not Detective Striker or Detective Santos or even the omnipotent Doctor herself. He knew where Larisa Logan had been hiding.

And he was determined to get there before Striker.

One Hundred and One

‘Felicia!’ Striker called out.

It was the tenth time he’d screamed her name, but to no avail, and now he was beginning to panic. He made his way back to the main road. Once there, he tried her cell again. The signal was weak, but the call went through, and it was picked up on the second ring.

‘Jacob?’ she asked.

‘Jesus, you scared the shit outta me. Where the hell are you?’

‘I’m back in the village. She ran here. But I’ve lost her.’

He was angry now. ‘I didn’t know if you were dead or lying in the forest somewhere. I’ve been looking everywhere for you!’

‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘Are you okay?’

‘I’m fine.’

‘And Gabriel?’ She asked the question almost tentatively.

‘Gone. He killed Lexa.’

Felicia made a shocked sound. ‘My God.’

‘He’s spinning out of control, Feleesh. Gone right off the deep end. And he knows we’re here after him. No point in hiding that any more. Call the Feds. We need more units. We got to catch this guy before he escapes. I’ll meet you back in the village. By the flag pole in the centre square.’

‘Okay. I’ll call the Feds right now.’

‘And, Feleesh. Be careful on this one. We’ve lost sight of them, but that doesn’t mean they’ve run off.’

‘I can take care of myself, Jacob. Just get here.’ The line went dead and Striker started hiking back towards the cruiser. He’d gone less than ten feet when his phone vibrated again. He snatched it up, expecting to see Felicia’s name on the screen, but instead he saw that he had another text message. The send time was only a minute ago. He opened it up, saw Larisa’s name, and read the text:

Jacob, R U there?

He immediately typed back.

I’m here. Where are you?

After a moment, she responded:

I have proof, Jacob. A video. The doctors at Mapleview are killing people for money.

You need to come in.

They’ll send me back to Riverglen. To the doctor.

I won’t let them. I’ll be with you.

He received no response, so he typed back:

Larisa? U there?

You can’t stop them. And I can’t take this any more.

Let me help you!

Striker waited for a long moment, so long he thought Larisa had ended the conversation. But finally a text came back:

I’m so tired, Jacob. I’ll leave you the video I have of Sarah. No. 5 Old Mill Road. I hope it helps you stop them. Thanks for being my friend.

Striker got a bad feeling from her text. He recalled her PRIME files, remembered her emotional instability. He typed back:

Don’t do anything foolish, okay? I’m coming right now!

No response.

Larisa?

Nothing again.

Striker sprinted back down the trail to the cruiser. Once there, he punched the address into Google Maps and located it. He started the engine. Hit the gas. And left a trail of dirt and gravel in his wake.

Old Mill Road was only minutes away.

One Hundred and Two

Striker drove so fast he almost lost control of the cruiser on the icy gravel. When he reached Old Mill Road, he floored it. The road was narrow and old, unpaved. Tall rows of cedars and Douglas firs bordered the road, blocking out any of the weak moonlight that managed to struggle through the heavy blanket of fog.