The bench across the street from the police station was rather uncomfortable.
Taking the pressure off his bad foot pleased Murdock though. He would sit there for a few more minutes while he toyed with Smith’s puppet.
Asher Benson, a name wholly unfamiliar to Murdock.
He’d fought admirably in the cemetery. This new player could have been a solid ally under different circumstances. The idea of killing one of his own, one of the few living telepaths, felt traitorous. An act of fratricide.
Now, though, Benson would have to pay the price for Smith’s treachery.
Murdock ruffled his short, brown hair. The wig of dreadlocks and the torrential rain had matted his hair. His tongue ran across the caps that disguised his teeth. The rubber nosepiece, which widened the bridge, made his skin itch.
None of that could wipe the smile from his face though.
Creating chaos brought great joy to Murdock.
He’d spent years in that blasted desert, forcing Muslim radicals to shoot their brothers and bomb their own training centers. It was a fulfilling experience, but it paled in comparison to creating the same anarchy in the States.
First-world mayhem was definitely preferable. The buildings were nicer, the people more refined. Watching them burn gave him a greater feeling of accomplishment.
He would bring it down.
All of it.
But first, he had to erase the one man who had a chance of stopping him.
Finding him had been easy. The news reports had said which police department had taken him into custody. It didn’t take telepathic powers to follow the trail.
Murdock’s grin grew wider as Ash punched a man in the liver. A perfect, practiced blow. Destroying him truly was a shame.
A few of the officers in the front of the building reacted to the sounds coming from the holding area. They rose to see what the commotion was, but Murdock had other plans for them. How would the country react to the loss of an entire police department?
He wanted to find out.
“Let’s say hello to your lover, Captain Frank.” Murdock spoke aloud as he latched onto the captain’s mind.
A middle-aged woman sat beside Murdock’s decoy on the bench. He’d forced the man to put on a disguise and was looking through his eyes at the station. If his plan worked, then the decoy would help take the heat off Murdock as he escaped.
The woman secured a lock of hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry?”
Murdock glared at her through the decoy’s eyes. “Leave.”
“What?”
“Leave now.”
“But I’m waiting for the bus.”
A sigh escaped his lips. Why did no one ever listen? He secured a grip on her thoughts and forced her to stay on the bench beside him. To watch and listen to the carnage inside.
To help put the fear of God into those who would find her amidst the rubble.
He focused on Captain Frank again. The officer of forty stood and walked past the water cooler. The man fought against Murdock’s control, but he lacked the mental fortitude to win.
Frank freed his gun, finger caressing the trigger. Please! No!
Yes.
Murdock watched through Frank’s eyes as he stopped by the front desk. He stared down at the woman behind it, Sally Matthews. They’d spent the past six months in a torrid affair.
Their spouses suspected the tryst, but hadn’t vocalized it yet.
Now, they never would.
Sally looked up at Frank. Her brow furrowed at his odd expression. “You OK, Frank?”
He shot her through the eye.