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Chapter 1.

Bailey Malone was standing in the door of his office and he looked over his empire, namely the VCTF Headquarter. The area was rather empty which was natural as it was eleven p.m. Then he glimpsed one person who was still there – the newest member of his team. Agent Grant wasn't working though at the moment, he was sleeping over the files that buried his desk. Bailey had to smile over this. He knew that he was hard to the boy who has worked here for about four months but he always thought: the more the burden the quicker the improvement. And he saw the potential in the young agent... in many ways he reminded him of himself.

This was the first genuine smile of him tonight. He got some bad news that was the cause of him being here so late. He weren't been able to sleep anyway, so, he rather stayed here and planned and organized. Tomorrow he will fly to Montana... and he will take Agent Grant with him – he decided on instinct.

He slowly walked over to the desk and touched the man's shoulder. As it appeared it wasn't such a good idea. The younger man jerked awake and jumped up so harshly that his chair stumbled over.

"Relax! It's just me..." Bailey said surprised.

"Oh... I'm sorry, sir!" he mumbled while he was putting back the chair in its place.

"Never mind, I shouldn't have startled you this way. You should go home and sleep properly" he added then. He would have sworn that the man wore the same clothes as yesterday which meant that he's been up for at least 48 hours, probably even more.

"It's okay, sir. I still have some reports to finish..."

"Hey!" Bailey cut in. "I'm the boss here, and I advise you to take the opportunity! Anyway, I need you fit and ready tomorrow. You'll come with me to Montana to investigate a new case."

"Shouldn't I read through some files then?" he asked immediately.

"No! Go home and sleep! 6:30 at the airport."

"Yes, sir." He collected his things quickly and vanished but not before throwing a suspicious look at his boss. It wasn't surprising of course, as Bailey has never talked to him like this before, he rather just commanded him around.

Bailey was watching his retrieving back and thought about his decision and remembered how he met John Grant almost a year ago at the Atlanta Police Department.

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"To tell the truth I'm rather relieved that you take this case" said Captain Lou Handleman. "We can't work because the journalists practically camp in front of the department."

"We will take care of them" not as if Bailey liked journalists that much but in the last year, as head of VCTF, he collected quite a few experiences with them. "I'd just like to ask you for a favour..."

"You can ask whatever you want if you make these parasites vanish!"

"We are quite poor on people. Could you lend me somebody, who knows about the case and could help us?"

"Of course, just a moment" He stood up walked to the door and asked his secretary. "Sasha, could you find Grant for me?"

"Yes, boss! He's just brought somebody in, he's under in the basement."

"Call him, please!"

A few moments later there was a knock on the door and a young man came in.

"John, this is Agent Malone from VCTF. His team will investigate in the axe-murderer-case. Agent Malone, this is Detective Grant, he was in the team that has worked on the case so far. Agent Malone needs some help and I thought you would be the best for this task. Give all your running cases to Sharps."

"Yes, sir. Should I collect the files and evidence we have?" he asked turning to Bailey.

"I would appreciate it, thank you. Do you know where the VCTF Headquarter is?"

"Of course, sir."

"Could you bring everything over there, this afternoon?"

"Yes, sir."

"Thank you."

Grant nodded and left and Bailey turned back to Handleman.

"He's very young." He said simply.

"He's 26. But he's good and as I said he knows everything about the case."

"All right, and thanks for everything."

They shook hands and Bailey left to announce to the journalists that the FBI will be in charge of the investigation in the future.

"Who can be that guy?" asked Grace and George looked up to see a young and very good-looking man standing at the elevator and looking around with searching eyes.

"No idea."

Just in that moment Bailey came out of his office and went to the newcomer. They walked together to the command centre where Grace and George were sitting.

"People, this is Detective Grant from Atlanta Police. He will help us in our new case. Grace Alvarez, our forensic expert and George Fraley the computer specialist. Is this everything you have about the case?" he asked then, indicating at the paper-box that Grant was carrying.

"No, I have three more in my car."

"All right. I'll ask somebody to bring them up. Could you sum up the case for us?"

"Yes... let's see... The first victim was found on 23d April, in a container behind a Chinese Restaurant. The head was cut down and so were the hands, we still could identify him by a tatoo he wore. His name was Samuel Barnerd, and was a basketball coach in the Lincoln High School. Second victim is still unknown, unfortunately but we have a list of missing persons who could fit. This body was found also in a container this time behind an Italian restaurant. Third victim - Brandon Fitzgerald Math teacher in junior high school. We found his head not far away. Fourth victim Andreas Buchs, German teacher, he gave private lessons and didn't have a permanent job."

"How did you identify him?" asked Bailey.

"With luck. He had a special in-built prosthesis in his knee. The operation was made in Germany and we could follow it back."

"So, four victims in less than a month..."commented Grace.

"Yes."

"How were they killed?"

"They were decapitated probably with an axe."

"Huh… nice" said Grace

"We found signs of bindings on ankles and wrists. They were bound to something and then the murderer used his weapon to cut down their heads."

"Any suspects?"

He shrugged.

"Not really. We checked every relative, every acquaintance and every workmate. The victims never worked in the same school or had any other connection. At least not one we could identify. They were all in their late forties and they were all teachers. That's all."

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"Twelve years ago I arrested a man named Phillip Carnagie. He was a kind of prophet, had a lot of followers and they lived on a farm in Utah. The thing was though that he didn't preached about God but about the Satan. They went as far as to sacrifice humans. Most of his followers were teenagers and although they were abused by him in any imaginable ways, they still followed him like an icon. He was sentenced for life but two days ago he escaped from prison. They asked me to help recapture him."

Bailey and John were sitting on the plane, and after they took off the elder man started to let his younger subordinate into the case.

"And why Montana?"

"Carnagie had a daughter. He used her as a kind of showelement andin the end he wanted to sacrifice her, as well but we arrived just in time to save her. She was only thirteen that time and was pumped full with drugs. In my opinion Carnagie will try to find her and she lives in Montana."

"So we find her to find his father."

"Yes."

"Does she know about the escape?"

"I don't think so. This place where she lives, is far away from everything and the police in Utah didn't want to scare the people so they tried to keep the escape as confidental as possible."

"I see."

"Here are the files, read them through until we arrive."

Bailey didn't need them to remember everything. That case still haunted him… Those innocent teenagers... and Carnagie's daughter... they found seven bodies on the farm and just managed to take off the eights from the crucifix. Yes, they used a crucifix to kill the people. He has never seen such a madman like Carnagie – he was a real psychopath.

Bailey could see the shock on his younger colleague's face when he opened the folder. The first picture was of Julia Carnagie. Even from the picture was clear how hurt she was. The photo was taken when the paramedics took her away – a blanket over her shoulder, and a bloody gauze was pushed around her wrists. A young girl with the eyes of an old and tortured woman. Bailey remembered her too well: she didn't talk, not a single word. After the trial she was hospitalized for quite a long time, that much he knew but to tell the truth he rather wanted to forget the whole case so later he didn't even think about the girl.

"Do you think that she would talk to us?" John asked after he read through the whole file.

"She has to... we can protect her."

John looked at him sceptically but didn't make another comment.

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Bailey had another picture from the girl, which was taken years later. In this one she was eighteen and looked much better. That was what they used to identify her, after they had arrived in the small town.

WhenJohn went in the little shop on the main street every head turned at him. These people probably haven't seen a stranger in a long time. John could fully understand why the girl chose a place like this. If things have been turned out a little bit differently maybe he would choose the same path as well. Once it seemed to be a good idea to vanish from earth.

"Hello." He said and stepped to the counter.

"Can I help you?" the owner was a man in his late forties, had a good tan and looked very fit for his age.

"I hope so. I'm looking for somebody." He took out the photo.

"And why are you looking for her?" the man asked after throwing a glance at the photo. From this single motion, John was absolutely sure that they came to the right place.

"I'm from the FBI." He answered and showed his badge.

"Did she commit something?" asked the shopkeeper.

"No, sir. We have some news for her."

Some of the suspicion vanished from the man's face but he still hesitated.

"Do you know her?"

He nodded at last.

"She's Chris Carpenter. Lives on a farm up in the mountains. Comes down here every Wednesday. She's a nice girl."

"I'm sure she is." He wasn't surprised at all, that the girl used a different name. "Which road should we take?"

"Take the Main Street out of town, and then drive north until there's a crossroad. Then take the left side. It's about ten miles or so."

"Thank you, sir."

He left the shop and walked back to their rented car. Bailey was there with some coffee.

"Did you find out something?" he asked.

"Yes, she lives north from the town on a farm, about ten miles away."

They found the house quite easily. It wasn't really a farm only a small house in the middle of the forest. It looked cosy from the outside however a little bit raw. Bailey stopped the car in front of the porch and they got out. Bailey walked up the stairs and knocked but nobody answered. John walked over to one of the windows and looked inside.

"I don't think she's at home" He said.

"Maybe..."

"What are you doing here?" a female voice asked from behind. Both men turned immediately.

She didn't look like the hurt girl and not like the young confused woman they saw in the other photo. She looked rather tough to John, in her jeans and shirt. But maybe it was because of the enormous dog that stood at her side – with a not so friendly growl on its face.

"Miss Carnagie, we are from FBI..." said Bailey and started down the stairs. The dog growled out loud and Bailey stopped.

The young woman's face was absolutely unreadable, she didn't even flinch.

"I would appreciate if you called me Miss Carpenter instead, because this is my official name, Christine Carpenter. "

"Of course."

"Well, I guess it happened at last" she said then without making any step towards them.

"What do you mean?"

"The only reason the FBI would turn up on my doorstep is that Phillip Carnagie escaped" John didn't miss that she didn't call the escaped convict her father.

"I'm sorry but you're right. I'm Agent Malone, this is Agent Grant."

"And how can I help you?"

"We suspect that your father might come here... looking for you."

"Please, don't call that man my father."

"I'm sorry."

"And of course he will come here. Thank you for the warning."

Her face still didn't change however John could imagine her inner turmoil.

"Can we talk inside?" asked Bailey.

The woman sighed and waved at the dog.

"Come on Max, let's bring in our visitors."

The house was very friendly inside. Their host led them into a room that was obviously used as a study.

"What would you like to talk about?"

"We would like to stay here for a while."

"Why?" for the first time some emotion rushed over her face, but it vanished so quickly that John couldn't decide what it was.

"As I said, we suspect that your father will come herelooking for you. We found a journal in his cell and he wrote a lot about you…He's obviously still obsessed with you."

"I know he is. He thinks I'm his keyto theenlightening."

"How do you know it?" asked John, who hasn't said a word so far.

The woman stood up and walked to the desk that ruled the room. She rummaged around for a while and then took out a pile of letters, which she gave to Bailey.

"These I got from him during the last few years."

"He knows your address?" Bailey asked shocked.

"No. Maybe you don't know it, but I write. That's what I do for a living. I wrote some scripts and a couple of short-stories. those were published a few years ago. Of course not under my real name… none of my real names, actually…" she smiled sadly. "He still found out somehow, maybe because of the stories, maybe accidentally … I don't know… he sentthe lettersto the publisher of my book and they sent it to my agent. He's practically the only person who knows who I am and where I live." When she finished this sentence her eyes went wide. "Oh, my God! I should warn him… and…"

"Where does he live?"

"New York…" she went to the desk againand came back with a small sheet of paper. "Here's his number and address."

"I'll do it" John took the paper. "I'll send there somebody…" he glimpsed at Bailey, who nodded, so John left the room to make some phone-calls.

When he came back a few minutes later Miss Carpenter was shaking her head vehemently.

"Why don't you want us here?" Bailey asked.

"I just don't want you to be killed..."

"We could help you..."

"If he wants to kill me, he will... and everybody else who stands between him and me. Nobody can help" Amazingly enough she didn't seem scared rather resigned.

"I want to capture him" Bailey said determined. "I won't let him hurt you again!"

The woman studied his face and for the first time there was recognition in her eyes.

"You were there, weren't you?" she asked quietly.

"Yes, I was. I saw what he did and I will stop him. Even if you don't want it… then we will camp outside in the car."

She watched him silently for a few moments and the shook her head.

"You don't have to… I have some guest-rooms."

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Later that night something startled John from his not so deep sleep. He listened for a few moments and heard it again. It was a muffled cry from next door which was the room of their host. He jumped out of bed, took his gun and ran out. Fortunately he was fully dressed. He torn the door open and then stopped as there was nobody else in the room. Christine was tossing and turning in bed, she clearly was stuck in a nightmare. He stepped closer to the bed hesitantly: should he wake her? He knew that he wouldn't like if somebody saw him like this. But the girl became more and more agitated. At last he touched her shoulder.

This wasn't the best idea he ever had. Chris jerked awake and lashed out immediately. As John was bending over her, she struck him exactly in the face, so hard that tears filled his eyes. The next moment though her eyes focused on him.

"Oh... you...What are you doing here?"

"I heard some noise... you had a nightmare..." he answered a little bit slurry.

"Did I hit you?" she asked after she sat up and studied him closer.

"It's nothing. I shouldn't have startled you..."

"Your nose is bleeding..."

"You have a strong right hook" he tried to smile but it proved to be quite painful.

"I'm working on it" she said with a slight smile. This was the first real smile John saw from her and he decided that she should do it more often. "Come, I'll give you some ice for it."

"You don't have to... just go back to sleep!"

"I don't think that I can sleep in again" And she was already getting up.

They walked together in the kitchen where Max lied in front of the fridge and acknowledged with an irritated shake of his head that he had to stand up. Chris took out some ice and packed it in a washcloth.

"Here."

John sat down next to the kitchen table and pushed the pack to his nose.

"A tea?"

"Would be great."

She started to prepare the hot drink and John couldn't stop himself from watching her every movement. Chris Carpenter, or Julia Carnegie or whatever her name was, was a beautiful woman even without make-up and in her rugged pyjama. He suddenly realized how long ithas beensince he last watched a woman like this.

When she finished she sat down opposite John.

"Does it hurt?"

"No, it's okay."

For a few moments they sat in silence only Max's snoring could be heard.

"How long have you been living here?" asked then John to start a conversation.

"Five years."

"Isn't it very lonely?"

"I like to be alone. This way nobody asks why I'm so strange."

"I didn't realize that you were strange."

She shrugged.

"I don't like being amongst people. I become nervous and I don't know how to socialize. I'm sure you read my file... inthe psychiatryyou don't necessary learn social skills."

"I don't say that I can imagine that."

"It wasn't that bad. Actually it was better than living with my father."

"Aren't you scared?" it was quite a straight question but he hoped that he wouldn't scare her away with it.

"Not really. At least not when I'm awake..." she added with a shy smile. "You know... he hurt me in so many ways that..." he trailed off. "I hate him too much to fear him…"

"I think I know the feeling..."

Chris looked at him interested.

"Do you?" her voice wasn't sceptical.

"Yes... I'm not in a too good relationship with my own father..."

She nodded.

"The strange thing is it that there was a time when I trusted him. I believed every word he said. I loved him even…" she added more quietly.

"I don't remember ever trusting my father... but I thought for a while that if I do the right thing... if I behave myself as he wants then maybe he will at least appreciate me as his son."

John didn't know why, but he felt as if he has known this girl for ages. About these feelings he's never talked to anybody except one person during his whole life. And Chris he has known only for hours. But they shared something and they both felt it.

"What did he do to you?" asked Chris.

"Not as bad things as your father did to you. He's a gangster and he beated me up quite often."

"My father never abused me physically... at least not until he... you know... tried to kill me. He manipulated my mind. I was the main attraction on the masses. He said I was a medium, he gave me different kinds of hallucinogens, so I really saw things all the time. The worst was that I really believed it, it seemed so real."

She closed her eyes for a moment and John suspected that she wanted to hide the glistering tears.

"I don't want to fear him… but in my dreams I can't pretend that I don't…" she whispered.

John watched the fine lines of her face and touched her hand gently.

"I know…"

She opened her eyes again and studied John's face.

"Yeah… I guess you really know…" she let him hold her hand for a moment. Their eyes locked and strangely enough John suddenly started to wonder what it would be like to kiss her. Then she pulled her hand away and John shook the thought out of his mind.

Chris stood up and took the two mugs to the counter.

"I think we should still try to sleep a little bit more." She said and her voice was a little bit trembling.

"Yes, you are right." He stood up, as well and started to walk out of the kitchen.

"I lied…" her voice stopped him in mid-step and he turned.

"What about?"

"I'm glad that you stayed…"

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