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The chair scrapes across the concrete, and I turn back around to see him trying to get his arms free again. It kind of reminds me of those Saw movies. Can he get free? Yes, but he would have to sever parts of himself to do so. Not that he would get all that far afterwards, and I would not give him the chance to leave the island alive.
“I’m pretty sure you know better than to move by now.” I put the tool I’m holding down and turn back toward him. “And you know I really dislike repeating myself, but since you wouldn’t answer my question yesterday, and you seem to care less about the women and girls, I figure let’s go back to Jensen.”
He freezes at the sound of the name.
I put it together yesterday that he hired Jensen specifically; whereas I, on the other hand, was his third choice. At first, I thought maybe he simply hired Jensen because he was the only person he could find, but that makes no sense. If you are hiring a middleman to acquire something like this, there has to be a reason, and Jensen is a nice guy.
“Why Jensen? I need to know that much. The women, children, and everything on those files . . . I don’t think I will even understand how people can be so disgusting and stoop so low. But you had a reason to hire Jensen, and you knew how to find him. I know someone who is an excellent cyberstalker who couldn’t find him.”
I walk over and grab his jaw.
“Why did you hire him specifically?”
I need to know this if I’m cleaning up Jensen’s mess—it needs to be all of it. If he came recommended by someone, I will have to end them as well. I will leave no stone unturned to make sure Vesper is safe from this kind of scum.
At first, I thought he was just mad that Jensen didn’t hand over what he wanted. That made sense; people don’t like being told no. Especially men like this. Yet the way his face changes every time I mention his name tells me there’s more to it.
“I don’t get it, and you’ll find I really hate not understanding something. You hired Lucky, and you figured out he must have seen what was on that drive, as why else would he not hand it over to you? He decided you shouldn’t have it.” His jaw ticks, and I know I have hit a nerve. “So you outsource again, but Lucky is smart, and not even I could find the drive. But I kept thinking, why not get me to kill him before I got the drive? If it was just about seeing what was on it, being dead would be enough to stop him from talking.”
I walk around and pause behind his chair.
“Do you know how many people hire me because someone stole something from them?” He doesn’t answer. “Lots.” I lean closer to his ear. “Do you know how many of them pay extra to have the thief killed? Quite a few, actually . . . People are so dramatic. But do you know why this is different?”
I walk around the front of him again.
“Those thieves are bad people, the scum of the earth, and deserve to die. Jensen is different.”
He narrows his eyes at me as I crouch down in front of him, a hammer now grasped in my hand. I line it up with his knee as he shakes his head.
“No.”
“Oh, now you remember how to speak. Fantastic, let’s expand your vocabulary. Why Jensen?” He says nothing, and I sigh. “Wrong answer.”
He screams beautifully when I bring the hammer down on his kneecap. Some people are terrible at being tortured; some refuse to talk at all and would prefer to die, and others simply have a disappointing scream. His is good—it’s deep and carries around the room. The soundproofing in here is phenomenal. I remember the Scarecrow chasing Vero here when I first got to the island. I stood outside and heard his scream easily, and then it went silent too abruptly. When I went to investigate, I found Cave had locked Vero in, and he was still hollering.
The man’s scream cuts off and morphs into ragged breathing as I step back to inspect my work.
“Better?” I ask, but he doesn’t answer. “I’m going to assume not.”
I wipe my hand on a towel and toss it onto the table. There is still blood under my fingernails from yesterday, and I’m surprised Vesper didn’t comment on it this morning. I know she will notice if I don’t make an appearance again soon. I promised her I would tell her if I left, and she will get suspicious if I’m not following her around. I can’t help following her—she is perfect, and every second I’m away from her hurts.
“You’re fucking crazy,” he says, lifting his head enough to glare at me.
“Thank you—it comes naturally. You would think I had a traumatic backstory, but I really don’t. I wasn’t beaten or abused; I was just born this way. I have a deep sense of justice for finishing what I start, and you’re really fucking with that. This is all your fault; you went looking for a monster and found one. You offered him money to kill another human and then had the audacity to act surprised when the monster turned on you.” I smile at him. “Seems like poor planning on your part.”
“You don’t understand—”
“Correct. That’s why I keep asking questions.”
He closes his good eye, and I snap my fingers. “Stay awake. We’re not done here.”
It opens, showing his bloodshot sclera. “Why did Jensen need to die? From your file, I see you clearly have enough connections that if he went to the police, it would magically go away. Wanting to kill someone after you get what you want is very drastic when they have done nothing to you personally.”
His jaw tenses.
“This is where you answer.”
Nothing. I stare at him and decide that maybe he needs to get clean, that all the blood is making him weak. So I gather the hose and drag it over. I love this thing. It’s super powerful and helps me clean the cells down really well.
