i suppose it was bound to happen sooner or later...
John Wakefield and Henry Dunn are boring, and their victims are predictable. But Molly has to make a living somehow, and the problems of psychopaths, simple-minded islanders and the insipid wealthy are easy.
Occasionally, someone surprises her.
This Chloe woman is suddenly intriguing; clearly malleable, but her decision shows just the right amount of obstinacy.
“Moran, go find her, pull her out,” Molly orders from their hiding place, one eye on the retreating Wakefield and his ill-fated victims.
Moran gives her a brief, befuddled look, but obeys.
“What are you doing?”
Molly rolls her eyes at Jim’s irritated tone. “She’s in excellent physical condition. Emotionally, she was resigned and depressed, so her muscles weren’t rigid as she fell, but instinct did take over and she adjusted to a sort of sitting position. Try to keep up.”
Jim stiffens, as if about to protest, but apparently thinks better of it.
Sebastian returns, arms full of the young woman. “There’s a pulse,” he gasps through chattering teeth.
Molly smiles thinly. “Excellent. We’re done here.”
**
Molly is patient, when it’s absolutely required. She has plans for this woman, plans that require destroying her and then rebuilding her in exactly the manner that Molly requires. Fortunately, Wakefield wasn’t completely useless.
Chloe shudders and backs into a corner when Molly enters the room, but doesn’t resist as Molly takes her left hand and removes Cal’s ring. Molly notes this as an excellent sign.
“Chloe Carter is dead,” Molly says softly as she holds up the ring to the light and examines it. She trains her eyes on Chloe, holds her gaze, and gives her a predatory smile. “Welcome to London, Mary Morstan.”