justice Divine

McQuaid sat on the bed in his suite, often standing impatiently to look out the window. Stryker hadn't called and wasn't picking calls. Even though he didn't want to believe that the little girl could have killed such a fairly high-profile assassin, she had shown considerable ability in her execution of the other three. Her thirst for vengeance is unquenchable, he mused, fear entering his thoughts. But whatever the outcome, this was the end of the road for her. Suddenly his ringtone went off, and the Caller ID displayed it was Stryker. "What took you so -" he started but was cut off quickly. "This is Detective Hopkins of the QWPD," a lazy voice drawled on the other end,