A State Of Sin Amsterdam Occult Series Book Two by Mark Hobson (golden son ebook .TXT) 📕

The horror of what she’d endured sickened him. He could not fathom the pure evil involved. But as soon as she had mentioned the name Visserthe motive became clear. This was an act of revenge as well as a warning, in response to their visit to the clinic yesterday. Kaatje must have returned there on her own, or been taken against her will, and it was all tied up somehow in the Nina Bakker abduction case and the murder of her parents.

Pieter had climbed back out of the ambulance and stood there in the falling snow as the vehicle pulled away, its blue lights flashing and lighting up the wintry scene. Then he had gone back inside, up the staircase to his bedroom, and retrieved his firearm from its metal locker at the back of his wardrobe. It was strictly against regulations to keep the gun at home, and he could find himself under a mandatory referral to the Dutch Police Federation Sanctions Board if anybody found out, but ever since the spring he felt the need to make sure he was prepared for if – or when – Lotte had made a reappearance. And after tonight’s incidents, he now felt fully justified in doing so.

Putting on the shoulder holster, he slipped in the gun and put his leather jacket on over the top and then grabbed his car keys off the kitchen table.

A few minutes later and he was driving away.

Just what precisely Lotte’s role was in all of this he did not know. That could come later. For now there was only one thing on his mind.

He raced through the evening traffic with the emergency light on the dashboard flashing a warning to the other cars and bicycles to make way, and each time he reached a junction he ignored the red lights and manoeuvred his way carefully and speedily through the cross-traffic, hoping the other drivers would slow and allow him safe passage.

Approaching the eye clinic in Osdorp he cut the siren and quietly turned off the main road, noting how few cars were parked in the car park. The area reserved for members of staff was completely deserted. There was just one single car in the far corner near where the grassy slope led down to the small lake.

Pulling up in the shadows, Pieter climbed out. It had stopped snowing again and the ground was covered in just a thin dusting of white. Overhead, a crescent moon dominated the sky. The frozen lake seemed to glow a milky-white as he crunched his way over to the main entrance.

The building was mostly in darkness. The security lights on the outside walls were switched off, and the windows of the complex were dark and impenetrable. The place had a deserted air about it, which rather than making him feel more relaxed and at ease, actually triggered an internal alarm inside him, and his nerves kicked in, making him ultra alert. The more so when he saw the sliding doors of the front entrance were wide open.

He slid out his firearm and held it with the barrel pointed down at the ground. From his coat pocket he removed a flashlight. Playing the strong beam in through the entrance, he quickly scanned the interior, and once he was sure the way was clear, Pieter carefully stepped into the foyer.

It was eerily quiet. Everything was powered down; the ceiling lights, the computer monitors on the receptionist’s desk, the large HD television in the seating area. He noticed a cup of coffee on the counter in front of him, and, moving over, he reached out the hand holding the flashlight and touched it with his fingertips. Stone cold.

Pieter shook his head. During yesterday’s visit with Kaatje, the place had given him the creeps, there’d been something about the clinic that got under his skin. But now, standing in the dark and empty and silent foyer, he felt himself shiver as though something had passed over his grave, and he looked back over his shoulder towards the passage leading inside the facility. He had the damndest notion that he was being watched.

Something caught his eye then. A thin sliver of light showing underneath a door, and he remembered this was Julian Visser’s office.

Pieter trod silently over and pressed his ear to the door. He could hear nothing on the other side.

Switching off the flashlight and returning it to his coat pocket, he gently took a hold of the door handle and twisted it as quietly as possible, and eased the door open, the hand holding the firearm ready to come up.

The office was empty and he breathed a sigh of relief.

Passing through the doorway and leaving the door slightly ajar, he stood there and looked around Visser’s cramped little office.

The place was a mess. The desk, which had three computer monitors arranged in a U-shape facing the swivel chair, was strewn with papers and pens and brown cardboard folders. A glass of water had overturned and rolled onto the carpet, leaving a damp patch on the floor near a filing cabinet. Stacks of paperwork had been piled up in untidy columns on a side-table, and some of these had toppled over, making it impossible not to step on sheets of paper as he walked over to the desk.

A potted plant on top of the filing cabinet had turned brown, its leaves all curled up and dying, and a half-eaten sandwich lay discarded in a waste-paper bin. It looked to have been there for days. A dusty smell lingered in the air, adding to the sense that Visser had not been one for maintaining a clean and well-organized workspace.

Pieter put his firearm back into his shoulder holster and choosing a brown folder at random he picked it up off the desk.

On the front, handwritten in capitals, it said: PATIENT 27 – U1 RZ. PROCEDURE: 3 - date 22nd JANUARY

He flipped it open. Inside was a photo of a young child, a