All at once, his legs disappeared. He hung limp, like a dead turkey, forcing the showerhead to hold him dangling in midair. And the blows didn’t stop.
Another fist smashed into his face, so hard he felt as if the knuckles touched his skull. And then again. And again. And then he felt the man’s foot in his stomach, pounding and pounding, followed by another incapacitating kick to the groin. He hurt so badly he couldn’t separate one pain from another. He was bleeding in every place he could possibly bleed, aching with every neuron of his body.
More blows rained down on his gut, his kneecaps, and worst of all, his poor pitiful face. He couldn’t speak; he thought some of his teeth were broken. He couldn’t run, he couldn’t hide. He couldn’t even kill himself, which he would gladly have done at that point. But he couldn’t. All he could do was cry and whimper. Cry and whimper and wish he was dead.
And then, without warning, the man decided to speak. His voice cracked down like thunder. “When I return, you will tell me where the penknife is,” he said in precise, measured tones.
The man didn’t wait for an answer. He didn’t need it. Tyrone heard the footsteps recede; he listened until he was alone again. Alone with his guilt and his shame and the certain knowledge that when the man returned, he would tell him anything. Anything he wanted to know. Anything at all.
Chapter 45
“THEN TELL US!” Jones implored. “Who’s the murderer?”
“I can’t be sure,” Ben replied. “But given what Paula said, and this little bauble I received in the mail …”
“Would you please not do that mysterious trailing off thing again? You’re making me insane!” Jones shook him by the shoulders. “If you know something, tell me!”
“Or tell me!”
They all whirled around to see Earl ambling through the office door.
“I see you’ve been released as scheduled,” Jones remarked.
“Yeah. With a goddamn dog collar!”
Jones nodded sympathetically. “Maybe it will keep away fleas.”
The phone rang. Jones left Ben and walked to his desk to take the call. A few moments later, Ben heard Jones calling to him. “Boss?”
Jones was covering the mouthpiece with his hand. “Yeah?” Ben said.
“A call for you.”
“Tell him I’m busy.”
“He says he wants to talk to you right now.”
Jones was acting strangely, stuttering and hesitating. He was acting almost … scared. “Who is it?”
“I don’t know. He won’t say.” He leaned forward, hissing, “Ben, I think it’s him!
Earl ran beside Jones and pressed his head next to the receiver. Ben picked up the other phone. “I’m here.”
“I think you know who this is,” the voice growled, “so let’s not screw around with the preliminaries.” The voice was strange and muffled; Ben guessed he was holding something over the receiver to mask his voice. “Is it safe?”
Ben’s lips parted. What was he talking about? “Is what safe?”
“If you have illusions of killing time so this call can be traced, forget it. Two minutes and I hang up. So let me try again. Have you still got it?”
Ben hesitated, trying to think fast. “But I don’t know—”
“Don’t screw around with me!” the man bellowed. “I’ve got Jackson. What’s left of him, anyway. And if you ever hope to see him alive, you’d better cooperate.”
“Okay,” Ben said. “I’ve still got it.”
“Have you told the police?”
“No.”
“Have you told anyone?”
“No.”
“Good. I want you to come and see me. Bring it to me immediately, no stops in between. And come alone.”
“But—”
“No buts. You’ll come now.”
“But—alone? I’d have to be crazy.”
“If you don’t, the kid dies!”
“But how do I know—”
“You don’t believe me? Just listen.” Ben heard a heavy thumping sound on the other end of the line, followed by a scraping, a pounding. And the unmistakable sound of human pain.
“Say a few words to your buddy,” the man growled. “You can still talk, can’t you?”
The line was silent for what seemed an eternity. Finally Ben heard a broken, raspy voice. “Puh—puhlease. Help … me …”
The phone was ripped away, and Ben heard the sound of another blow landing on something soft, followed by a huge agonized cry. “He ain’t got much time left, Kincaid. He’s bleeding to death, among other things. If you don’t come, he’s gonna die. And soon. Understand?”
Ben bit down on his lower lip. “I understand.”
“You know where I am?”
“Where we met before?”
“Right. I’ll give you fifteen minutes to get here before I start cuttin’ your friend into pieces. I’ll meet you outside. Don’t call the cops or anyone else. If you do, I’ll kill Jackson and disappear.”
“You have to give me a chance—”
“I don’t have to do anything. Listen to me. There’s only one road up here, so I’ll see you a long time before you see me. If you’re not alone, this kid’s a dead man. That’s a promise.”
Ben heard a click, then a long droning tone that told him the line was dead. He dropped the receiver into its cradle.
Jones was still holding his phone in his hands; he and Earl had heard the whole thing. “What are you going to do?”
Ben glanced down at his watch. Fifteen minutes. He barely had enough time, even if he left immediately.
Jones’s eyes widened. “You’re not thinking about—you’re not going to—”
Ben turned away. “I have to get my keys.”
Earl jumped in front of him. “Take me with you.”
Ben shook his head. “You heard what he said. I have to come alone.”
“I’ll hide in the backseat.”
“It’s too risky. To you and to Tyrone.”
Jones jumped in. “C’mon, Boss. Do you dream for a minute that he’s going to let Tyrone go?”
“Maybe not. But I have an idea—”
“That’s crazy. He’ll kill you.”
“There’s one thing we know for certain. If I don’t come, he’ll kill Tyrone. Do you want that?”
Earl’s jaw clenched together. “No, man. ’Course I don’t. But this is suicide.”
Ben tried to get past him. “I have to try.”
“Then take me with you. I’m the one who started this. I’m the one he really wants.”
“And if he knew you were out of prison, he probably would’ve asked for you. But he doesn’t. You’re safe for now. Let’s keep it that way.”
“Ben, I insist—”
“No.” Ben went into the side office where he’d left his coat. He rustled through the pockets till he found his keys, then emerged.
Jones was blocking his way this time. “Boss, you can’t do this!”
“Don’t call Mike,” Ben said. “You know him. He’ll march in with a SWAT team.”
“Boss, this is crazy. This is nuts.”
“It isn’t nuts. He’s got Tyrone. He’s hurting him. Probably torturing him.”
“But you’re risking your life!”
“Tyrone risked his life to save mine. If it hadn’t been for him, I’d just be a name on a tombstone right now.” Ben marched toward the door. “I don’t have any choice.”
Chapter 46
BEN JOGGED ACROSS the parking lot to his car, climbed in, and started the engine. He was so lost in thought as he drove crosstown that he was startled when his car phone rang.
He pushed the Send button, then set it to Hands-free so he could listen through the speaker.
“Hello.”