Page 61 of Corpse Roads

“I want to hear it from you,” Hunter prods further.

Shaking his head, Richards makes some more notes and shifts, seeming uncomfortable. I know he wanted to do things a different way. Enzo did too.

Neither of them wanted Harlow to be put in this position so soon, but what Hunter wants, Hunter gets. We’re all beholden to his rules around here.

“Pastor Michaels beat them until they prayed,” Harlow eventually answers. “Sometimes… he’d take his clothes off and… t-touch them. It usually got them to comply.”

No one knows quite how to stomach that. I don’t believe for a second that she’s as naive as she’s playing. Years of watching this abuse must have taught her some things.

“Did he… do these things to you?” Hunter asks carefully.

She shakes her head. Enzo relaxes a fraction, still holding himself as tight as a coiled spring, prepared to unleash hell at any moment. He’ll be running tonight instead of sleeping, I’m sure of it.

“Before he… killed them, he had a special knife. From God, you see.” Harlow grows increasingly pale. “He used it to carve holy symbols into their bodies. It cleansed them of all evil.”

Disregarding another of Richards’ warnings, Hunter retrieves a sealed folder. He pulls out a single, glossy photograph, then offers it to Harlow.

On it, the discarded body of Tia Jenkins has been captured in painstaking horror. The Holy Trinity is slashed into her skin, blackened and melted off with decay from the dump site.

“Like this?” he questions.

Harlow’s hand covers her mouth, shaking badly. “She fought so hard. He strangled her in the end, tired of waiting for her to die.”

Tia Jenkins’ body was found sprawled out in a forest up north. She’d been there for weeks already, her skin feasted on by maggots and flies. Harlow can barely look at the horrifying picture.

“The bodies were left with me for a while,” she reveals. “Sometimes for hours, sometimes days. Eventually, Mrs Michaels took them away.”

“What?” Enzo’s voice is razor sharp.

Harlow ducks her head, a waterfall of tears flowing freely. “He liked to make me sleep in their blood, to remind me. If I was bad, he left them for longer. Laura… she… he didn’t…”

She chokes on a wet sob, like she needs to throw up but can’t. Something is begging to be let free, but she’s holding it back with all of her strength.

Leighton snarls at Hunter to stop, gathering Harlow in his arms. I’ve barely seen him since he was released from prison a few months ago. He looks so different.

“We need to stop here,” Richards says.

“This has to be done,” I remind him.

“Not so damn heavy-handedly.”

“Do you want another girl to go missing?”

“I want to see my patient being cared for, Theo!”

He snaps his notepad shut with a frustrated sigh. It takes a lot to get under the shrink’s thick skin. He’s consulted for Sabre on many occasions, including cases as bloody as this.

But everything about this feels different somehow. We’ve become invested after months of failure. It’s now personal, and hearing firsthand what this monster is capable of only makes it worse.

“You don’t have to carry on,” Leighton offers.

He’s stroking Harlow’s long hair. They seem friendly with each other. She’s shaking violently in his arms, a bomb primed to explode.

“We can stop,” he adds.

“I have to do this.” Harlow pushes him away. “Laura… she… they kept her body for much longer, until there was nothing left. The smell was so bad, it made me pass out sometimes.”

Hunter deliberately looks up at the camera where he knows I’m watching. I gather my laptop and the waiting evidence bag. Richards watches me go with reluctance.

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