Damien Kaine Series

Genres: Police Procedurals; Romantic Suspense; Political Thrillers; Vigilante Thrillers

Synopsis

From Book 1:

Two dead girls, another one missing, and a secret that will rip a tight-knit community apart...

When a missing teen's body shows up dismembered on the side of the road, Lt. Damien Kaine must crush her parent's hopes of her safe return. The parents are pushing for details and answers. Two things he can't give. The abduction of a second girl brings only one clue. The girls look like.

As Damien searches for a sadistic killer, a disturbing pattern emerges. The more he digs into the community's history, the more missing girls he finds.

With the lack of evidence or movement forward on the case, a quirky FBI profiler is pulled in to assist with the investigation. Damien wrestles with disdain for the agent and an equally strong sexual attraction to her, as he deals with mounting frustrations.

Tensions rise with the abduction of another girl. Damien and his team are in a race against time to save her. But the case is about to take a frightful turn. What they uncover will not only rock them to their core, it will haunt them forever.

Innocence Taken is the first crime fiction novel in the Damien Kaine Thriller series.

If you are a fan of CSI or Criminal Minds, believable characters, and sarcastic humor, then this book and series is for you.

Buy Innocence Taken and get sucked into Damien Kaine's world.

Other books in this series:

Confession of Sin

Fatal Dominion

Web of Malice

Blind Vengeance

*Each book is a standalone story and can be read out of order. However, you will get more character insight reading from book 1. This book has cursing, sex, and graphic descriptions of crimes and crime scenes.*

Victoria M. Patton combines forensics and police work with just enough humor and sizzling romance in her books. Her unique way of writing will have you on a roller coaster ride of emotions and keep you turning pages well past your bedtime.

Publisher: Dark Force Press

Content advisory: Violence, sex, cursing, and graphic descriptions of crime scenes

Sample

INNOCENCE TAKEN

CHAPTER ONE

He straddled her chest—for leverage. His hands tingled as his fingers curled tight. He had to apply just the right amount of pressure. Her jerky movements increased as he squeezed her neck. The girl’s chest hardened under his weight, holding on to the last bit of air in her lungs. The beautiful smoky brown color of her eyes faded, replaced with a dull gray cloud that crept from one side to the other. A gleeful smile tugged at his mouth when red dots popped on the sclera. Her bladder released, announcing the end. His fingers uncurled from her neck, and a heavy sigh escaped his lips. He stared down at her as the stillness and quiet of the room engulfed him.

The corners of his mouth twitched as his trip down memory lane was interrupted. He heard the begging from the far side of the room. He stared at the girl he held captive. He’d chosen this one because she resembled HER, but she didn’t live up to his expectations. None did anymore. He wondered if he would ever find another like HER. The one thing all these girls had in common, they all begged—eventually. He turned away and finished the preparations.

***

The thin mattress offered Becca little comfort. Leather straps bound her ankles and wrists to the bed. The slow melodic tune he whistled bounced off the cold concrete walls and pierced her eardrums like a hundred tiny pinpricks. Becca flinched at the sound of the chain hitting the floor as he hooked it to a ring in the ceiling. She closed her eyes. The man didn’t care about her pleas. He had no plans to let her go.

She thought about how she got here. Becca’s parents had given her a reprieve from her month-long grounding and allowed her to go to the mall with her two best friends. They chortled and bounced from store to store as they flirted with all the cute boys. The smell of freshly baked cookies and pretzels wafted through the air. Becca and her friends stopped for a snack and to chat with the boy behind the counter. That’s where she met him, outside Cookie Crumbs. She bumped into him and then spent a few hours walking around the mall with him. Her stomach fluttered when he asked her to leave with him. What seemed like the best way to spend the remainder of her one day of freedom turned into the start of her worst nightmare.

Becca rocked back and forth muttering to herself. She watched him and prayed that he planned a quick death for her. As if he knew she stared at him, he glanced over his shoulder and winked at her. Becca shook uncontrollably, gasping for air as she clawed at the straps around her wrists.

Her eagerness to push her parents and their rules aside landed her here, in a cold, damp basement. Becca spent the last few months pushing as hard as she could to get away from her life. A life that seemed filled with endless chores and babysitting her little brother. As bad as she thought her life had been, these last few days were nothing short of Hell. She wanted that life back.

She cried out. “Oh God, please help me—please help me. Please, please help me.” The sobs that choked her now burst out as her begging erupted into broken wails. The man turned and glowered at her, but she no longer cared. He planned to kill her. What did she care if he beat her before he did it? Becca leaned forward and wrapped her arms around her thighs. “I’m so sorry Mom, I’m so sorry.” She hiccupped between the sobs. “I love you, Mom—Dad, I love you…” She repeated the mantra until her throat ached.

Becca saw the man turn and walk across the basement towards her. Her eyes widened; her prayers and pleas stopped. The man leered at her. She noticed the light as it bounced off the blade. Becca screamed.

 

CONFESSION OF SIN

CHAPTER ONE

Mackenzie’s hands shook as she gripped the tattered piece of paper. Her mother’s handwriting was smudged from her tears. Her lungs constricted, and the painful tightness in her throat made it hard to breathe.

 

My dearest daughter;

My body aches, and I have found no relief. My sorrow strangles me. Please don’t blame yourself. Your love and devotion after your father’s death kept me going. Without you, I would not have made it as long as I did. I watched you grow from a child into a beautiful woman. Now you must live your life for you and your purpose. Not care for a withering old lady.

My heart pounds against my chest, and I am breathless as I wait to see Him and stand in the presence of Christ. Please understand much thought and prayer has gone into this decision. I know my death will wound you. Your strength with the wisdom and guidance of the Lord will help you get through this. Trust in His written Word and listen to Him. He will guide you and show you what you need to do.

I love you, my sweet child.

Mother

 

Mack wiped her face with the back of her hand. “Mother, oh Mother, why didn’t you say anything? Why? You let me believe you were fine. You lied!” The note fluttered to the floor as Mackenzie paced the length of her living room, clenched fists banging against her thighs with each step.

Her nostrils flared as her lips pulled back, baring her teeth. She picked up a heavy paperweight and threw it across the room. The glass shattered on impact like a car bomb exploding, sending glass shards everywhere.

A guttural roar bellowed out of her. “You had no right! You were selfish. You cared about yourself with no regard for me. You’ve left me behind with no one!” She yanked on her hair, pulling long strands from her head. Mackenzie fell to her knees and wept.

Her hand brushed against the note. She pressed it against her leg and smoothed the edges down. She clutched the paper against her chest. Mack stood and gazed at her mother’s picture. She always loved Mother’s long hair and the way it cascaded down her back. Mack laid the note next to the frame.

Moving back from the mantel, her gaze became unfocused. Her eyebrows squished together as she rubbed her forehead. “I miss you, Mother.” Mackenzie clenched her teeth together. “The priest was mad at me, Mother. I forgot to tell you. After your service, he voiced his disappointment that I chose not to bury you in the cemetery. I explained it was my decision—my decision! Not his!”

She paced and fisted the air. She screamed, “What about their decisions? What about that? They didn’t care for you. They turned their backs on you when you needed them the most. Why would I leave you in the cold dark earth? You need to be here with me.” Mack’s long skinny fingers reached out and touched the urn. “I don’t blame you, Mother. None of this is your fault.”

She turned, and her eye caught a crucifix hanging on the wall. Mack’s breathing labored. She cocked her head to the side. “I blame You. You have let this happen.” She stepped closer to the crucifix. “You have left men in charge that no longer do Your will. They don’t care about Your flock. The priests care more about the gratification of their flesh than anything else. I’ve seen the reports. I’ve seen what they’ve done.”

Mack crumpled to the floor. “Forgive me, Father. The blame lies not at Your feet. You gave these men charge to do Your will. The priests chose not to follow Your commandments. They put other gods before You. They gave in to their desires. Desires of the flesh and mind. The priests no longer keep themselves pure to carry out Your teachings. They can’t lead Your flock if they serve more than one god.

“I will make them pay. I will hold each of them accountable for their lack of judgment.” Mack laughed. “I didn’t understand at first; now I do. You have used the last few months to bring clarity to the task at hand. Now I understand they must answer for their sins. Their deaths will bear witness.”

Mack grabbed the rosary beads dangling from the crucifix. Her fingers tightened around them. “Their sins led them to choose their will over Yours. They need to be struck down. They need to beg at the gates of Heaven for entrance into Your Kingdom. Your grace no longer covers them. Your house must be cleansed.”

 

FATAL DOMINION

CHAPTER ONE

Tuesday

3:30 a.m.

 

Lieutenant Damien Kaine maneuvered through the swamp-like parking area and pulled up next to the Crime Scene Tech van. He could just make out the giant monstrosity of a tarp through the sheets of pelting rain. Neither he nor his partner Detective Joe Hagan said a word as the roof of the SUV was battered by the angry storm. A warning of sorts, of the scene that lay under the tarp before them.

Almost simultaneously they exited the vehicle running to the protection of the covering. “Holy shit!” Damien said shaking the rain from his hair and clothing being careful not to contaminate the dead man before him.

“Damn, even mother nature says it’s too early for this shit. You’d think the criminals could be a little more thoughtful and commit these murders at a decent fucking hour,” Damien said shivering slightly, as he brushed the last of the moisture from his jacket. Januaries were bad enough in Chicago without a bone-chilling rain.

Dr. Bernard Forsythe smiled at his favorite lieutenant. “I’ll be sure to post your request on the city’s Facebook page and Twitter feed.”

Joe let the last few raindrops fall from his chin. “What the hell do you think the killer used on him? There isn’t much of his head left.” Joe squatted pointing to the man’s body. “Looks like the killer bashed in half his head and used a giant cheese grater on the other half.” Joe stood stretching his back. He dragged his hand down his face. “Fuck, you think he was alive when all this happened to him?”

The man’s semi-nude body showed signs of prolonged torture. Dr. Forsythe shook his head. “I’m not even going to hazard a guess until we get him back to the morgue. By the looks of the blood-soaked underwear, I have a feeling there is a surprise waiting for us when we get him undressed. We can’t even ID him onsite.” The doctor held up one of the hands with missing fingertips. “Our killer took a few souvenirs. It’ll take us some time to figure out who our guy is.” Dr. Forsythe glanced around. “With this rain coming down I want to bag him up as quickly as possible. The CSTs are gathering everything in the general vicinity and will sort through it at the crime lab.”

Damien ran his hand through his hair. He stared unfazed at the dead man. “Damn, I could’ve stayed in bed.” He smiled at the raised eyebrow Dr. Forsythe shot his way. Over the years the Medical Examiner had become more than a colleague. “What? There’s nothing for us here until you can give us a name.” Damien looked around at the empty field. 

“Oh, come on, Damien,” head CST Roger Newberry said, “you wouldn’t want to miss out on this case. Who knows who we have here, it could be Jimmy Hoffa.”

“Yeah, that would be the find of the century,” Joe said.

“Joe, how're things with Taylor? You know she is the bomb over at the crime lab. She has implemented some pretty impressive software to streamline the lab’s efficiency, making our lives a lot easier,” he grinned at the big Irish cop. “You know she has several admirers. I’d be careful if I were you. You piss her off, and she will have another man waiting to take your place.”

Joe shot Roger a sideways glance. “Fuck you, Newberry.”

Roger roared back in laughter. “You’re so cranky.”

“Joe, you ever come out here in high school?” Damien asked. The body had been dumped on a road located outside the city. The property jutted up against Lake Michigan. An area had eroded away, and crystal-clear water from the lake filled a large basin allowing swimming in the summertime. This area was notorious for high school students to hang out and party. “I remember a few late-night excursions back in the day, myself.” Damien smiled at the men.

“I may have come out here once or twice.” Joe snickered at the men around him. “Of course, nothing this exciting ever happened to me.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Our lovebirds over there had one hell of a damper put on their night.” He nodded towards the young couple who sat in the back of a patrol car.

“Hmm, I bet. Let’s go interview our happy couple. I seriously doubt they can tell us anything. It looks like our guy has been here a while.” Damien turned towards the car. “Doc, as soon as you know the identity, will you call me?”

Dr. Forsythe looked up from bagging the body. “Yes, Lieutenant, I will. I plan on working on this right when we get back to the morgue. Give me a few hours. Hopefully, I will have something for you.”

Damien nodded to Joe, “You ready?”

Joe sighed. “Yeah, let’s get this done and then get something to eat before we head into Division Central. No way I’m facing the day this early on an empty stomach.”

 

WEB OF MALICE 

CHAPTER ONE

Friday mid-day

 

Alicia exited her vehicle and caught her thick shoe heel on the uneven road surface, almost planting her face on the ground. She gasped as she grabbed her side view mirror for balance.

“Oh my God,” she hissed out a breath. “I can’t believe I have to come out to this Godforsaken place.”

“What happened?” Stephanie’s voice boomed through the speakerphone.

“I caught my boot heel on this stupid gravel road. I still don't know why he couldn’t buy the Martin property.”

“Because the Martin property cost a small fortune…”

Alicia cut her friend off in mid-sentence. “Well shit.” She watched as the older model truck pulled down the drive. She waved at the handsome but creepy man behind the wheel. “Listen, Stephanie, my client is here…hang on...” Alicia looked up as he walked towards her. She held up her forefinger. “Mr. Bennett give me a sec to finish this call.” She smiled returning to her friend on the phone. “Stephanie, I gotta go. Remember, I’m heading out to San Diego right after I leave here.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot, but I thought the convention started this coming Monday.”

“It does. It goes from Monday to Friday,” she turned her back on Mr. Bennett, “but I may stay through next weekend. I may not. My return flight is scheduled for late Friday. I’ll call you by Thursday and let you know my plans.”

“What hotel are you at?” Stephanie asked.

“I’ll have to call you from the airport. I had a mix-up, I’m not staying at the hotel where the convention is being held. I don’t mind though. My new hotel is near the beach. I’ll call you later with the details. My flight leaves at five pm.”

“Okay, have a great time. Love you.”

The line went dead as Alicia spun around and glanced up to find her client directly in front of her. “I’m sorry, I had to finish a call,” she said taking a small step backward.

“No worries at all. Sounds like you are going on a trip,” David said.

“Yes, I am. I can’t wait either. Going to San Diego for a realtor's convention. Getting out of Illinois for the winter is a great plan.” Alicia glanced around. She stood in front of what amounted to a ramshackle hut. The wood had grayed and cracked from the harsh winters. She assessed the crumbling concrete stairs that would lead her to the decaying structure. They had shifted over time, and at the angle they rested, it was hard to tell if the house or the steps were crooked. 

For all she knew the entire structure was sinking into the ground. Alicia glanced over at the new owner of the crappy shack. “Why did you buy this place? I have to know. I showed you so many other properties that were so much better than this.”

David reined in his annoyance with the elf-like creature in front of him. Her shrill voice caused his skin to tingle like an itch that can’t be scratched. “That may be true, but this one kind of spoke to me.”

She frowned. “Well, I wouldn’t want to be this close to Mallard Bay Campground anyway. That place gets crazy in the summertime.”

“But I never have to worry about the campground being sold, and it’s across the Fox River. I know I will never have an annoying neighbor.” He followed Alicia as she led the way to the small front porch.

“You better have those stairs fixed. They look like they’re about to fall apart at any given moment.” Alicia reached for the tattered screen door, glancing back over her shoulder. She yelped taking a step away from him. “Umm, you don’t want someone to sue you when they fall and break an ankle.” She fumbled with the lock box on the door. “I don’t even know why I kept this lock on here. Last time I came out here the lock on the back door broke.” She sighed. “I don’t know why you couldn’t come to my office. I could have saved a trip.” She forced an insincere smile his way.

David hovered watching over her shoulder as her trembling fingers fiddled with the lock. He rolled his eyes behind her back. She spent more time readjusting her oversize bag on her shoulder than she did unlocking the door. David took a long slow breath. He balled his hands into fists. Opening and closing them several times. “I do appreciate you entertaining me and meeting me here. I didn’t want to go into town if I could help it.”

Alicia stepped into the small living room. She crinkled her nose at the makeshift mantle Old Man Winston had put up. “You know, Mr. Bennett, the Martin property had a real fireplace. Not one made of plywood and a potbellied stove.”

David tilted his head. “I don’t think you have the appreciation I do for the value this place has. The potential is limitless.”

“Yes, but I know you have the money. After all, I had to run your credit. I know you’re a frugal guy from the truck you drive, but I can tell you have good taste.” She scrutinized his tailored shirt and expensive hiking boots. “I know you like the better things in life, so I still don't get why you didn’t buy a better house.”

David’s eyes narrowed into slits. “It seems you pay attention.”

“Don’t let my pretty girl looks fool you. I’m smarter than most people like to give a natural blonde credit for.”

David lifted a single eyebrow at her. He cringed at the sound of her cackling hyena laugh. He watched Alicia reach out and drag her finger across the surface of the potbellied stove, scrunching her nose at the black goop that stuck to her fingertip.

Alicia sniffed it and cringed as she vigorously tried to remove the substance by scraping her finger along the edge of the stove. “Oh my God, you are going to be cleaning for a month, to get this place livable.” She wiped the remaining grease like substance on her black leggings. “Do you fish Mr. Bennett?”

David’s eyebrows squished together. “No, I don't fish. Don’t have the patience for it.”

“Hmm, I thought as much. I didn’t get the impression you were a fisherman. Although my friend Stephanie said that’s why you bought the property.”

David sneered at her. “No, I’m more of a bury the body kind of guy.”

Alicia cleared her throat as she eyed the front door. “Ha-ha, that’s funny.”

“Hmm, I didn’t mean it to be funny.” He removed the six-inch blade from its sheathing and held it against his thigh as he took a step towards the mantle and Alicia. He raised the knife over his head, as he stepped closer.

Alicia’s eyes widened; a bellowing scream escaped her lips. She took a step back and caught the heel of her shoe on the raised edge of the tile floor, sending her careening back into the stove. Her hand reached out to catch herself and slid in the black grease that coated its surface. She continued to fall back onto the dirty tile. She landed with a thud, as she watched David’s knife stab the wooden mantle. Alicia exhaled sharply. “What the hell is wrong with you?” She panted as she tried to catch her breath. She looked up to find David’s hand outstretched.

He leered at her as he grabbed her forearm and yanked her off the floor. Once Alicia was back on her feet, David pointed to the mantle. His knife firmly planted in the body of a giant Wolf spider. “I hate spiders.”

Alicia gagged at the blood and guts that seeped from the gaping wound. She glanced around looking for something to wipe black icky goop from her hands. She found some old newspaper on the floor next to the stove. She watched Mr. Bennett out of the corner of her eye as he removed the knife and wiped it clean on his jeans. “That is so gross.”

He smiled devilishly at her. “It's just a little blood.”

She sidestepped him and walked to the lopsided table and chairs by the small kitchenette. “Well, umm, I have a few more papers I need you to sign and here are the keys.” Alicia placed the paperwork and keys on the table. She turned towards him and held out the pen. “As soon as you sign the top two pages, I can get the hell out of here. And leave you and your critters alone.” She nodded towards the mantle.

David still held the knife in his hand. The weighted blade had a serrated edge. It was the perfect instrument for gutting small animals. He smiled at the annoying woman before him. “Alicia, I’m sorry you had to drive all this way. And I’m sorry you’re going to miss your flight.”

Alicia’s eyebrow wrinkled. She glanced at her watch. “Why would I miss my plane? I have about four hours to get to the airport and thank goodness, we are about ninety minutes from O’Hare.”

David took a step closer. He held the knife next to his leg. “You see, Alicia, by your own words, you paid too much attention to who I am. I can’t let you leave now. You may tell someone about me and this place,” he squinted at her, “it seems you may have already done so.”

Alicia took a step back. “Umm, no. No, I haven’t really. I mean, I told the girls in the office, but that’s standard information. I didn’t tell them anything else. I mean, c’mon what’s to tell?” She glanced at the knife in his hand and then back up to his piercing eyes. “Seriously, Mr. Bennett, I should be going.” Her breath came in pants.

David reached out and grabbed her right shoulder. In a quick motion, he jabbed the knife into her flat stomach and yanked it upward. The sharpness of the blade, moved with ease as it ripped through flesh, muscle, and tissue, stopping when the edge hit the base of the sternum. “Sorry Alicia, but you’re not going anywhere.”

Alicia coughed as blood trickled out of her mouth. She placed her hands on the gaping wound trying to hold in her organs. Her intestines and stomach seeped through the opening and her fingers. A gurgling noise escaped just before she fell to the floor.

David watched as the last of her life vanished. He bent down and wiped the blade on her black leggings. “I don’t want that much blood on my pants.” He dumped the contents of Alicia’s purse onto the rickety table. He grabbed her cell phone and left everything until he returned later. He checked his watch and estimated the drive to O’Hare, the time it would take to dump the phone, and then drive to his hotel. He figured it should put him back just in time for dinner.

 

BLIND VENGEANCE

CHAPTER ONE

Late Thursday Evening

Barrington, Illinois

 

Shards of pain reverberated against Chase Humphry’s skull. He struggled to open his eyes. “What the hell…?” he groaned. His breathing came in short hot pants as his heartbeat sped up. He attempted to lift his hand and remove whatever covered his eyes. “What the hell! What’s happening?” He licked his lips, cringing as his sandpaper tongue scratched their surface.

“Shit.” He wrestled against the restraints. “C’mon. This can’t be happening.” The itchy fabric tied around his head, pinched his eyelids closed. “Hello? Where am I?” His voice quivered. Every breath he took became more labored. The more he yanked against the leather straps around his wrists and ankles, the tighter they became.

His chest constricted. Each breath harder to take than the last. He curled his fingers into a fist as he concentrated on remembering what happened. His mind flooded with fragmented visions. He’d left his office around five p.m. and stood at his car, finishing a conversation with his girlfriend. “Jacey,” Chase whispered. “Jacey,” he said again as he focused on the phone call, on her sultry voice. He couldn’t recall anything after that moment, past the conversation, or even the conversation. 

His lips and chin trembled. “I don’t know what kind of game this is, but it isn’t funny. Doug? Chris? If this is a joke, haha…now fucking untie me!” He shifted in the chair. “Fuck,” he said, yanking against the straps. “This isn’t funny anymore.”

Chase’s throat burned. He swallowed what little saliva he had trying to stop the searing pain. He sweated profusely causing his linen shirt to stick to him. “Hello? Hey, what the fuck is going on?” He screamed out, twisting his head from side to side. “Anyone here?” Yanking against the restraints, he hoped the chair would move around and loosen the straps. The chair didn’t budge.

“What the hell is going on? Someone fucking answer me?” he screamed as he wrenched on his restraints. Starbursts erupted behind his eyes. A wave of nausea crested over him. He breathed in through his nose and hissed it out through his mouth, wanting to keep the vomit at bay. A heater kicked on. Goosebumps erupted on his arms when the warm air clashed with the sticky coating of sweat on his skin.  

Chase dropped his chin to his chest. The vomit hovered at the back of his throat. The caustic bile eating away the already raw tissue. As his pulse slowed the thumping in his head subsided. He swallowed gagging on the thick mucus.

“Please. Someone, please help me.” His posture straightened when he heard a faint motorized hum. Within moments, a familiar smell wafted around him. He lifted his chin, sniffing the air. He cocked his head to the side, inhaling deeply through his nose. “I know that smell.” 

Keeping his excitement in check, he waited for the chimes. With no sense of time, he had no idea when or if the old grandfather clock would fill the room with his favorite sound. When the first chime echoed, he blew out the breath he didn’t realize he held. “I’m in my home.” A slight giggle escaped as relief washed over him.

“That you are my friend. That you are.”

Chase’s body stiffened as the sound of heavy booted footsteps walked towards him. He angled his head in the direction of the intruder’s voice. “Who are you? What are you doing in my house? I demand you let me go.”

Kerry threw his head back and laughed as he stood in front of his captive. “You really are an ass, aren’t you? I don’t think you’re in any position to demand anything.” Kerry walked around the chair, pulling on the restraints making sure they hadn’t loosened. He placed a second pair of latex gloves over his hands, giving him another barrier of protection.

“Why are you doing this? Is it money? I can give you money. Tell me what you want.”

“Chase, you always thought money was the answer to any problem. Even when we were kids. I have my own money; I don’t need yours. I have quite a bit actually.” He leaned down next to the man’s ear. “I made a killing in the tech market.”

Chase fixated on the man’s voice. “What do you mean when we were kids? How do you know me?”

“I can’t believe you don’t recognize my voice. You and your delinquent friends heard my screams enough.” Kerry dragged a chair from the other side of Chase’s living room, placing it in front of the pathetic man. “Hmm, sorry. I think I scratched your wood floors. It’s too bad, they’re exquisite.” He glanced around at the flooring. “Brazilian Walnut. I bet you dropped a pretty penny on these.”

Chase squirmed. “I don’t think you’re here to discuss my wood floors. What is it you want?”

Kerry ignored the man’s question as he moved to the table positioned against the wall for easy access. He lingered in front of it, analyzing his choice of tools. “I think this will start us off nicely,” he said as he picked up the ice pick.

“Who are you?” Chase lowered his voice, trying to hide the quiver. He angled his head towards the sound of the intruder’s footsteps.

Kerry sighed, sitting in the chair. He placed the ice pick in his lap as he crossed his legs. “I’m sure it will all come back to you shortly. However, before we take a trip down memory lane, let’s discuss what you’ve accomplished in your life up to this point. You definitely capitalized on the whole misfortunate kid thing.”

“I didn’t capitalize on anything. I worked hard to get to where I am. No one handed me anything. I earned it.” Chase lifted his chin as he puffed out his chest.

“I guess we all tell ourselves a few good rationalizations to help us get through the day.”

“What are you referring to? I don’t have to rationalize anything.” Chase clenched his hands into fists.

“I understand your company recently went public. That had to boost your bottom line tremendously. Seems to have given you a lot of options.”

Chase tilted his head to the side. “I still don’t understand what my company has to do with this. Why are you here?” He jutted out his chin.

Kerry raised an eyebrow. “Do you think if your past ever came out your company would have had such success? I think if the public knew who you really are and what you did, I bet your company would tank in a heartbeat.” Kerry stood pushing his chair back a few inches. He stuck the ice pick in his back pocket.

“There is nothing in my past I have to worry about.” Chase sucked in air, holding his breath. He began coughing. The more he coughed, the more his throat burned. Swallowing, the metallic taste of blood made him gag.

“I think there is.” Kerry reached down next to the leg of his chair and picked up a two-liter bottle. “Where are my manners,” he said. “I bet you’re thirsty. The drug I injected you with has a nasty side effect of making your throat feel as if you are gargling hot coals.” Unscrewing the top, Kerry grabbed Chase by his hair and yanked his head back.  “Here you go. Have a drink.”

“What—what are you doing?” Chase asked before his assailant pinched the sides of his jaw forcing it open. He writhed under the man’s firm grip. “Stop, please. What are you doing?” Chase screamed before a rush of liquid ran down his throat. He struggled to swallow the onslaught of the caustic fluid. He shook his head from side to side, but his assailant’s grip was too firm. His gag reflex kicked in as he coughed vomiting some back up.

Pain erupted along the entire length of his esophagus. Chase sucked in air, coughing it out. Saliva drooled from his mouth, dripping off his chin. His coughs turned into hacks as droplets of blood spewed from his mouth. Tears streamed from his eyes, dampening the fabric covering them. The opening of his throat felt as if it had constricted down to the size of a straw. Chase wheezed, his lungs felt as if they were filling with fluid.

The corners of Kerry’s mouth tugged upwards at the edges as he watched the man’s discomfort. “As unpleasant as that was, it won’t kill you. At least not immediately. I still need answers from you.” Replacing the cap, he set the bottle on the floor. “I remember when I begged you and your asshole friends for something to drink, you guys thought it would be fun to piss on me. Do you remember that?”

Chase panted, dry heaving. Thick strands of mucus ran from his nose, dripping down his lips. Every breath in through his mouth felt like the flame of a blow torch. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The slight swelling of his tongue distorted his speech.

“Come on. You don’t expect me to believe that, do you?” Kerry pulled the ice pick from his back pocket, pricking his finger on the tip. He smiled at the sharpness of the point.

“I don’t care what you believe. I would never do something so disgusting.” Chase coughed. He tasted blood. He spewed out the nasty, thick bloody mucus, gagging.

“You’re such a liar.” Kerry stood moving towards the blindfolded man. He rechecked the straps. Chase jumped at the contact. “My, my, my, a little touchy aren’t we?”

“Please tell me what you want from me. I’ll do whatever you want,” Chase whimpered as full body tremors engulfed him. He squeezed his eyes shut behind the blindfold.

“When I begged you and your band of assholes to stop your near-daily torture of me, you never did,” Kerry said.

Chase twisted against the man’s grip of his wrist. The pressure from the hold forced his palm flat against the arm of the chair. 

“Do you know how long I smelled like piss? No matter how many showers I took, I could never quite get rid of the smell.”

Chase shook his head in denial. “That wasn’t my idea.”

“Oh, so now you remember?”

“Patrick was the one who thought it would be funny.” His voice high pitched as his breathing came in quick pants.

“You were the one who pissed on my face. When I threw up, you laughed at me.”

Chase’s nostrils flared. The sound of his heartbeat thrashed in his ears. “We were kids, teens. I would never do those things now. I would never condone that now.”

Kerry chuckled. “You knew what you were doing.”

“Please, please, let me go,” Chase begged.

“I want you to suffer as I did.” Kerry dragged the tip of the ice pick across the top of Chase’s hand. “I want you to suffer as Sierra did.”

“I—I didn’t have anything to do with her.” Chase jerked back pressing himself against the chair. He shook his head. “I swear. We did what he told us to do.”

“You gave Pops a big donation a few weeks back. You knew what kind of man he was. You know what he did to the girls in his care. How could you give him money?” Kerry applied more pressure to Chase’s wrist. 

Chase flinched back. “I didn’t have anything to do with what Pops did. We were all scared of him.”

“Only recently, as a grown man, you gave him money, why?”

“I can’t…” Chase stuttered. “I…I….”

“C’mon Chase. You’re going to have to do better than that.”

 “I’m sorry. I was a kid. We were stuck in that place.  I wanted to survive and get out. I didn’t know any better.” His chin and lips trembled.

Kerry raised the ice pick. “You’re a liar. And it’s time for you to reap what you sowed all those years ago.” He jammed the pick through the back of Chase’s hand. The tip of the weapon stuck in the wood of the chair. He had to yank with force to get it out.

Chase’s scream echoed throughout the house.

Kerry raised the ice pick and stabbed the hand again. And again.

Chase screamed, throwing his head back. “Please, please, stop. I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll tell you whatever you want.” He gulped in air through his sobs.

Kerry smiled as he jabbed the pick into the mutilated hand. He used such force the hilt of the pick, broke several bones in Chase’s hand. The man’s screams sounded like a mortally wounded cat. He left the eight-inch pick stuck there as he reached around the man’s head and grabbed the blindfold. Yanking it off, he stepped back waiting for Chase’s eyes to adjust.

Chase blinked, squeezing his eyes tight. The tears stung, and the brightness from the glaring overhead lights made it hard for his vision to focus. He sobbed at the blood oozing from the holes in the back of his hand. The sharp pain from the broken bones brought back the nausea. “Why? Why are you doing this?” His gaze focused on the man in front of him. “I don’t remember what happened. Why do you care so much about her? I didn’t have anything to do with what happened to Sierra.”

“You’ll say anything to cover your ass. You did whatever Pops wanted. And he let you and your friends have extra privileges. You didn’t have to do anything to survive.” Kerry walked over to the table. He picked up a pair of pruning shears and the ball-peen hammer.

Chase turned his head; his gaze following his attacker. “I promise. I don’t know what happened to Sierra. I wasn’t there.”

“You helped Pops cover it up. I want to know where she is. I want to find her.”

“Patrick. He was older. He did whatever Pops told him. He made me and Maggie help him.”

“You both benefitted, though.”

“Pops was a mean man. He had his favorites, and if you weren’t on his list, you suffered. We did what we had to.”

Kerry walked back to his captive. “I need something from you, Chase. I need some answers from you. And ‘I don’t know,’ isn’t going to work.”

Chase’s eyes bulged at the pruning shears. “I’ll answer anything you want me to.” He wriggled in his chair. “Please, stop, let me go. Please don’t hurt me anymore.”

A malicious smile spread across Kerry’s face. “Chase, I’m going to do more than hurt you.” He lifted Chase’s right forefinger and opened the hand-held pruning shears placing the finger between the blades. “First, you’re going to tell me what I want to know,” he said winking at him as he squeezed the shears together, cutting off the finger. Chase’s shrill cries of agony made his smile broaden. “Then, I’m going to kill you.”