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“When I helped my daughter first move her things there, I saw him cleaning some stuff out. I remember being a little concerned because he was… acting strangely.”
Ella’s curiosity piqued. “Strangely?”
“I might be misremembering, but he was smashing some things up. Quite violently.”
Ripley asked, “He was smashing his own possessions?”
“Yeah, paintings. Tearing them up, breaking the frames. Very odd.”
Ella’s heart beat a little faster as she thought back to her interview with David’s ex-wife. She’d said that David had taken a load of artwork with him when he left.
“Thank you, Mr. Takahashi,” Ella said.
“Good luck in your search. I’ll have the footage ready for your colleague.”
Ripley tugged Ella back towards the car. “Come on, Dark. Motel time.”
Ella trudged back,preoccupied withthethoughts spinning around in her head. There was too much on her mind to even consider sleeping.
And she had a feeling deep down that these ruined works of art held some kind of significance. She just had to dig a little deeper to find the answers.
***
Hestared atthesilent building, anticipation prickling his skin. He’d been here for hours already and not a soul had passed by, but time was the brush of God. To make a masterpiece, you had to put the effort in, hone your creativity, refine the brushstrokes. He’d wait here all night if he had to, but he had faith in the plan. The others had gone off without a hitch, as though an invisible entity had perfectly engineered the necessary conditions. He was beginning to think that’s exactly what had happened.
Besides, time was all he had anymore. The world, with its chaotic and unpredictable nature, had a way of separating the strong from the weak, the resilient from the frail. Those who were unable to withstand the pressure of its ever-changing nature were weeded out, leaving only those who had the fortitude to endure its relentless tests. The survivors, those who displayed the courage to persist in the face of adversity, were the ones who ultimately prevailed.
The man and the woman, they too had been forsaken.They hadbeentestedbythe divineandhad fallen short of expectations, so they needed to pay the price for their failures. They’d gone down easy, too easy, frustratingly easy. Neither had shown anything that resembled resilience, instead succumbing to their fates like animals bred for slaughter. The woman in particular had been simple prey, almost welcoming the knife in her abdomen. She’d greeted death like it was an old friend, accepting her transition from life to eternity. All it had done was reinforce the belief that he’d been right to carry out this mission, right to assume the role of the bringer of the end.
But of course, he was simply the messenger. God had selected him from the herd for this sacred mission. His task? To be the harbinger of death, to carry out the divine decree, unloading God’s will through a steel blade. He was no mere man, he was an angel of destruction, sent to test the weak and cleanse them of their woes.
Why the man and the woman? To the uninitiated, they were from two different worlds, bonded only by proximity. But if one took the time to look scratch below the surface, they’d see that the man and the woman shared a common suffering. Neitherhad beensparedthetrialsandtribulations oflife, and both had been testedbeyond what most people could endure.Both had beentemperedby theflames of adversityandleft batteredandbruised.Both had beendefeatedbylife’s relentless obstacles,and wereleft broken, homeless, craving the devil’s substances to numb the pain of everyday life.
After dispatching the man last night, he’d returned to his makeshift home, malnourished and tired. He’d asked God why he was taking him through troubled waters, and God repliedbecause your enemies can’t swim.God’s words were like a balmtothe weary, a light in the darkness, and a reminder of his infinite love. Hardships would come and go, but they were a tunnel to brighter days.
Heglanced at his watch,thehands ticking slowly aroundtheface.Just after eleven p.m.
A gentleman emerged from the building up ahead, scanning the area for any signs of life. He seemed to linger than a moment more than was necessary, as though he’d spotted the patient stranger sitting among the bushes on the other side of the road. To be safe, he sidestepped out of view, keeping himself invisible. From now on, he could only show his face to those who wouldn’t live long enough to tell the world what they saw.
A minute later, the coast was clear. Now he just had to get inside, remain invisible, and carry out his plan.
Time for the next test.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Ella felt as if her eyes were made of sandpaper, so exhausted that her vision had been reduced to a fuzzy haze. At the motel reception desk, she rang the buzzer but there seemed to be no staff in sight. She glanced around the foyer and saw a lone gentleman nose-deep in a newspaper, the pages concealing his face, the clichéd image of a detective on a stake out.
Ripley trudged in with her bag over her shoulder and joined Ella at the desk. She glanced at the minimal furnishings in the lobby and said, “Nice place.”
“We’ve been in worse,” Ella said. Ripley rang the bell then tapped her fingers on the reception desk, busying her fingers as though she was trying to distract herself from what was really on her mind. Ripley had remained uncharacteristically quiet regarding Ella’s outburst back at Hiromu’s house, and Ella guessed her partner was saving that lecture for another time.
“Sorry I went nuclear on that guy,” Ella said, getting it out of the way. “I didn’t mean to make things uncomfortable.”
“It happens,” Ripley said. “I’d be a hypocrite if I said otherwise.”
True, Ella thought. She’d seen Ripley lose her cool on too many occasions to count, including times she’d done the talking with her fists. “I just really thought we had something there.”
Ripley checked her phone while they waited for service. “The sheriff emailed us the footage and the voice sample. I’ll get them back to HQ tonight to see if they can work any magic on it. Tomorrow, we should try and get this to the locals. Someone will recognize his voice.”
