Page 93 of PSYCHOlogical

“I want to hear what he has to say,” I said. “Can you let him finish?”

Vincent sighed. “Finish your thought, Joseph.”

Trevino drew a breath, tilted his head in my direction, and exhaled. “To prevent distribution of the classified documents, we were prepared to take whatever measures were necessary.”

“Including kidnapping and killing me?” I asked.

He nodded. “The Director’s orders.”

Vincent cleared his throat. “Three Marines were on my property. They didn’t come in peace. What prompted the mission, and what was their objective?”

Trevino clenched his jaw and glared.

Vincent coughed out a laugh. He raised the pruning shears by the handles. “Is this how you want to do it?”

Trevino closed his eyes. “Shoot me.”

Vincent snapped the pruning shears open and shut repeatedly. “Not until there’s twenty digits on the floor.”

While the pruning shears clicked and clacked back and forth, Vincent rolled Trevino onto his stomach with the heel of his boot. He opened the jaws of the pruning shears and gripped Trevino’s thumb with the curved jaws. “What prompted the mission?”

Silence.

The handles of the shears slammed shut.

So did my eyes.

The sound of Trevino’s screams echoed down the hallway. I hated to open my eyes, but curiosity is an awful thing.

The back side of his slacks were quickly darkening with each pulse of his heart. A well-manicured thumb lay on the floor at his side.

I stared at it until my eyes went out of focus. It looked smaller than I expected it to.

“What prompted the mission?” Vincent asked.

Trevino thrashed back and forth like a fish out of water. His only response was a low moan that escaped through his clenched teeth.

I clenched mine right along with him.

Just answer him. Please.

Vincent pressed his boot against Trevino’s back. After chasing his finger with the jaws of the pruning shears for a few seconds, the handles slammed closed again.

Guttural moans shot from deep within him. Blood gushed from the stub as he flopped from side to side.

As the reality of what I was involved in registered in my mind, my stomach turned.

“Just to give you a little peace of mind,” Vincent said. “If you’re worried about them killing you for talking, let me make something clear. I’m going to kill you when this is over. You just as well tell me what I want to know and save yourself some agony.”

“Shoot me,” Trevino blubbered. “Get it over with.”

Without warning, Vincent lopped off another finger.

After slinging blood all over the sheet of plastic, Trevino arched his back and lifted his head. “They’ll kill my wife and daughter.”

Vincent leaned over, reached into Trevino’s back pocket, and removed his wallet. He removed the driver’s license and peered down at it through squinted eyes. “11840 Wickery Way, Washington, D.C. How about this: I’ll take that forty-minute drive, bring your wife and daughter here, and cut your daughter’s fingers off one by one. How’s that for an incentive?”

“Shoot me,” Trevino begged.