A knife sat on a cutting board. The big Cuban used it to chop an onion, which he added to the eggs he was scrambling in a frying pan on the stove. Wayne didn’t see any other knives or sharp objects in the kitchen that could be used as weapons. He didn’t think that was a coincidence. The big Cuban was testing him.
“What’s your name, anyway?”
The big Cuban kept chopping. “Renny.”
“Can I call you that?”
“That would be fine.”
Wayne leaned against the counter and watched Renny make breakfast. The guy was good with his hands, the knife a blur as the onion got turned into tiny pieces. Renny added pepper and some spices and turned the heat up on the eggs. He pulled a wooden spoon out of a jar on the counter, and handed it to Wayne.
“Stir them while I prepare the sausage,” his captor said.
Wayne stirred the eggs while Renny tore the plastic off a package of sausage. The teenager asked himself a simple question. If Renny turned around or got distracted, could he grab the knife from the cutting board, and stab him with it? Renny was big and strong, but all that muscle wouldn’t stop a sharp blade. One good plunge into the heart was all it was going to take. If the knife was sharp enough, the plunge could come from the front or back, and end Renny’s life. The hard part would be the aftermath. Watching his mother’s boyfriend die had ripped him apart, the memory burned into his brain. But he’d kill Renny if the chance presented himself. It was his only ticket out of here.
Soon their breakfast was ready. Renny asked Wayne what he wanted to drink.
“You got any OJ?” Wayne asked.
“Yes. It’s in the refrigerator. Help yourself.”
“You want some?”
“That would be good.”
Renny picked up their plates of food, and moved toward the dining room table, his back to Wayne. Seeing his chance, Wayne moved next to the counter where Renny had prepared the food. The knife was no longer there. He hadn’t seen Renny put it away, and wondered if he’d stuck it in his pocket.
“What are you looking for?” his captor asked.
The guy had eyes in the back of his head, Wayne thought.
“Some glasses for the juice,” Wayne said, not missing a beat.
“The glasses are in the cupboard next to the refrigerator.”
Wayne found two plastic glasses and put them on the counter. Then he pulled open the refrigerator door and searched for the OJ. His eyes fell upon the bowling-ball sized object sitting on the front shelf. The object was wrapped in saran wrap and looked like a rotting melon with hair growing on it. Without thinking, he took it out for a closer look.
Then, he freaked. It was the head of a small black man.
Wayne tried to yell but no sound came out of his mouth. The dead man’s pink tongue was sticking out of his mouth and pressed against his face. One of his eyes was open, and was staring at Wayne. Wayne told himself it was all a horrible dream.
“I see you found my friend,” Renny said.
Renny reached around Wayne and removed a carton of OJ from the back of the shelf. The head was put back and the refrigerator door closed.
“Come and eat,” Renny said, pouring two glasses of OJ.
Wayne sat down at the dining room table. The room was spinning and he felt ready to pass out. He hadn’t gone to hell. Hell had come to him.
The smell of the food on his plate snapped him awake. He plunged his fork into the runny eggs and pretended to eat. He could feel Renny’s eyes burning a hole into his soul.
“He was a bad man. He was going to hurt me,” Renny said.
“I figured as much,” Wayne said.
“There are times when it’s necessary to kill. Do you agree?”
“I guess.”
“Like your mother’s boyfriend. Don’t you think he deserved to die, Wayne?”
Wayne speared a piece of sausage on his fork. It looked as appetizing as road kill. The day he’d pulled the knife out of his mother’s boyfriend’s heart, he’d known his life would be changed, but he’d never expected anything like this.
“Yeah, he deserved it,” the teenager said.
“Would you bring him back, if you could?”
“No. Never.”
“I didn’t think so,” his captor said.
Wayne forced the food down. He had only one option, and that was to play along with Renny, and hope for the best. Otherwise, he’d end up in the refrigerator next to the cream cheese. It would have been funny, if it hadn’t been so sick.
When they were finished eating, he and Renny sat on the couch in the living room, and watched a porno movie on the big screen TV. This one was sicker than the others, and showed a three-hundred pound farmer beating up his two daughters while having sex with them. Not your usual family picture, Wayne thought.
Halfway through the film, Renny put his arm behind Wayne, and rested his hand on Wayne’s shoulder. The teenager wanted to scream, but sucked up his fear instead. He thought of the Big Brother he’d had growing up. The guy had been a dork, but he’d still taken Wayne to ball games and the movies. He found himself missing those times.
The film ended. There were no credits, just a blank screen.
“Did you like that one?” Renny asked.
“The cinematography was outstanding,” Wayne said.
His captor laughed. Then, he slapped Wayne on the leg.
“I think you are ready for the next phase of the Program,” Renny said.
Wayne didn’t like the sounds of that. He turned sideways on the couch.
“What are you talking about” the teenager asked.
“I am going to find you a woman tonight. One you can call your very own.”
Oh, no, Wayne thought.
Chapter 34
The FBI’s new building in Jacksonville reeked of fresh paint and new carpet. Like so much of Florida, the surrounding industrial park was also new, and housed dozens of national companies whose names were instantly familiar.
Linderman sat in an empty office flooded with mid-afternoon sunlight. He’d called Vaughn Wood an hour before, and asked for help. Wood had pulled through, and was now assembling his best field agents in the conference room a few doors down.
The coffee he’d bought from the vending machine in the employee cafeteria tasted bitter. It was his fifth cup of the day, and he felt sharp and alert. His mind had stopped playing tricks on him, which he told himself was a good sign.
His cell phone vibrated. Muriel calling.
“Hi,” he answered.
“I was starting to worry about you,” his wife said.
They had a simple pact. When he was on the road, he called his wife twice a day. He hadn’t done that since coming to Jacksonville. He was slipping in more than one area.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“Is everything all right? You sound tired and out of sorts.”
“It’s been a long couple of days.”
“You should have called. I was afraid something had happened.”
“I’m sorry,” he said again, hearing the agitation in his voice.
“When are you coming home? Or don’t you know.”
“Soon. A few days at most.”
The door to the office opened halfway, and Wood stuck his head in.
“Ready when you are,” Wood said.
Linderman cupped his hand over his cell phone. “I’ll be right there.”
“Take your time.”
Wood shut the door. Linderman took his hand away from the phone. He was going to have to eventually tell Muriel what he’d learned. In person was always better, but waiting was never good. She was his partner, and needed to know what he knew.
“I need to tell you something,” he said. “This morning, I had a conversation with an inmate at Starke prison who knows what happened to our daughter.”
“Oh, God, Ken. What did he tell you?”
“He said that Danni was sold into slavery a few weeks after she went missing. He knew information about Danni’s abduction that indicated he was telling the truth.”
“Slavery?” His wife started to cry.
“Listen to me,” he said. “Danni worked her way into her abductor’s heart. She convinced him not to kill her, so he sold her instead. Our daughter knew what she was doing.”