Captives and Captors Read online

  In a dubious tone, Robin said, “Apartment? My apartment?” With wide eyes, she leaned back in her seat and stared at the bank. She whispered, “Holy shit. They really think Bruce has that girl. What the fuck?”

  Robin shook her head as she processed the information. The jigsaw was easy to complete, the image was clear. Bruce was being held captive by Frank and his gang of outlaws. He was being interrogated and tortured by people caught in emotional tailspins. As Julia strolled back to the car, Robin tossed the cellphone on the passenger seat.

  Julia flumped into her seat, then she sighed. Without glancing at Robin, she extended her left hand. She clenched a stack of cash – a wad of crisp bills. She wagged the money at Robin, urging her to accept the cash without saying a word. The concerned mother was ready to head home.

  As Robin accepted the money, Julia said, “I could only withdraw $1,500. I'm sure Frank has some money at home if you really need it.”

  Robin quickly thumbed through the cash like a professional drug dealer. She did not count the money, but she put on a show to keep her facade a float. She refused to sink with Bruce. She shoved the money into the glove department without acknowledging Julia.

  As Robin turned the key in the ignition, Julia asked, “Were you able to call your daughter? Is she okay? Is she happy?”

  Robin responded, “Yeah, yeah. She was ecstatic. Thanks for asking.”

  “Do you mind if I ask her name? I'm sorry to pry. I'm just curious. You know with everything going on, I've felt very lonely and–”

  “Her name is Jennifer,” Robin interrupted. “I'll tell you about her when I drop you off. Let me take you home.”

  Julia leaned on the window and nodded – okay.

  ***

  Robin cruised down the desolate road, delving into the woodland. The sun fell beyond the horizon, piercing through the cracks between the trees. The road was devoid of wandering pedestrians and lost drivers. The forest provided a sense of normality through its natural ruckus. The symphony of croaking branches and rustling leaves was enough to put Julia to sleep.

  Robin loured at her dormant guest, listening to her soft snore. The caring mother was exhausted from her recent bouts with depression. She was living a nightmare and she had struggled to find refuge in her dreams. For weeks, she found herself incapable of abandoning her daughter to escape into her slumber. She was a truly affectionate mother, finally able to sleep.

  Robin whispered, “Who the hell do you think you are? Hmm? Taking justice into your own hands. Playing judge, jury, and executioner. It's bullshit. It's a bunch of crap. Who are you?”

  Robin pulled into the side of the road, diverging from her path. The car bounced and vibrated, but Julia remained asleep. The car rolled to a stop at the side of the narrow road. The vehicle was veiled by the towering trees and dense shrubs. The puny spot was hidden from the public eye – the perfect blind spot. Robin stared at Julia, then she slammed the steering wheel. Julia hopped as the blaring horn plucked her from her tender dreams.

  Disoriented, Julia asked, “What... What are you doing? What's going on?”

  Robin shrugged and said, “Oh, I'm sorry. I think I have a flat.”

  Julia glanced around the car, bewildered by her sudden awakening. With a furrowed brow, she said, “I see. I didn't feel anything. I must have dozed off a while ago.”

  “Yeah, you fell asleep almost as soon as we left the bank. You must have been really tired. Anyway, I think we'll be stranded for a while with the flat tire and all. Don't worry. I think everything will be fine. It always works out in the end, doesn't it?”

  Julia nodded and said, “Well, I'm actually pretty handy with a car. Frank taught me everything in case of emergencies. I can change the tire in a few minutes and have us back on the road. If you pop the trunk, I can grab the spare–”

  “No, we won't be doing that. I think it's time we drop this act. I'm done playing these damn games with you,” Robin interrupted as she scowled.

  Julia leaned away from Robin, baffled by her sudden hostility. She could see the fury burning in Robin's eyes. She had metamorphosed from a mischievous girl to a malicious woman in the blink of an eye. Robin smiled smugly and huffed. She knew she could no longer maneuver in the guise of a poor, innocent girl due to her outburst.

  Robin explained, “I know what's going on. I think I've got a good idea, Mrs. Meadows. So, just tell me the truth. Where's Bruce? What's your old man doing to him?”

  Julia tilted her head and stuttered, “Wha–What... What are you talking about? I don't–”

  Robin sneered in disgust and interrupted, “I know you have him. I've been searching for him all day. I know about Sylvia and the bar, I know about you and your daughter, and I know what you suspect. Let me tell you something: you're wrong. You understand me? Everything you believe is wrong. Now, where's Bruce?”

  “I don't... I don't know what you're talking about,” Julia responded. As Robin leaned closer, Julia squirmed away, trapped by her seat belt. She asked, “Who... Who is Bruce to you? Does he really owe you money?”

  Julia twitched as Robin gently caressed her hair, running her fingertips across the silky strands. The mother was frightened and perplexed by the young woman's erratic behavior. She was shifting between personalities at a breakneck speed – a kind parent, a vengeful woman, then an eccentric girl. Her transformations were petrifying.

  As she stroked Julia's hair, Robin confessed, “Bruce is my boyfriend, sweetheart. I love that man with all of my heart. When he missed our date this morning, I had to come looking for him. I have to tell you, I don't like what I'm seeing. It's very bad for everyone involved.” She leaned back in the driver's seat and clasped her hands in front of her chest. With a large grin, Robin said, “So, let's make things right again. Tell me where you're hiding Bruce and I won't have to get ugly, okay?”

  Julia swallowed the lump in her throat, then she swiped at the sweat dripping from her brow. She said, “I... I don't know what you're talking about.”

  Robin's eyes shifted from benign to malign with the response. She glowered as she lunged forward and grabbed a fistful of Julia's hair. Julia yelped and wept, kicking and screaming as Robin violently tugged on her hair.

  Through her gritted teeth, Robin sternly said, “You're going to talk, you understand me? You're going to tell me everything! Where's Bruce? What are you doing to him?”

  Robin pulled Julia's head back, then she pushed forward with all of her might. She smashed Julia's tender face on the dashboard. The depressed mother was dazed by the blow. Robin lifted her head, yanking her hair with a tight grip. Without a second of contemplation, she slammed Julia's head on the dashboard again.

  The glove department door shook with the hit. Julia was knocked unconscious by the blow. Blood leaked from her nostrils and oozed from her lip. The beige dashboard was smeared with blood.

  Robin leaned closer to Julia and said, “You'll pay for whatever you've done to him, for every finger you've laid on him. I swear, I'll make every one of you pay...”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Interrogation V

  The sleek cellphone slightly moved on the hardwood table, nudged an inch with each powerful vibration. The call screen depicted a stock image of a person's silhouette and the caller's name – Nathan Jones. The screen blackened as the call failed to connect. The tenth missed call of the evening came and went.

  Frank stood in front of the anchored chair, unperturbed by his negligence. He had an urge to answer the phone, an itch he couldn't scratch, but his mind was preoccupied with Bruce and Katherine. The timer was ticking down, nighttime was rapidly approaching. To his utter dismay, he failed to extract any valuable information from his prisoner throughout the day.

  With his arms crossed, Frank sighed, then he said, “I told you this wouldn't end well for you. I warned you about this, Bruce. I didn't want to hurt you, I never wanted to hurt anyone. I was pushed to a corner, so I fought back. I did what any father would do with the same options to get
his daughter back.”

  Bruce did not respond. He sat with his head slumped downward. Strands of his damp hair dangled in front of his face, obscuring his view. Although most of the blood was dried on his skin, a few drops of fresh blood still dripped from his mouth, nose, ear, and eye. His clothing was stained with blood, too. He was listless from the severe torture.

  Maybe he can't hear me, Frank thought, maybe I went too far.

  Frank knelt down in front of Bruce. He gripped the prisoner's chin, then he lifted Bruce's head. Bruce's eye socket was mutilated, his nose was sliced and swollen, and his ear was stained with blood. Frank glanced down and sneered. Bruce's fingertips were painted red from the deep cuts. The man was battered and bruised, ravaged beyond repair.

  Frank said, “You know, I've been a little disappointed with all of this. I've been digging and digging, but I've hit nothing but stone. I got nothing from you. Nothing. My people... they were getting close. They are getting close. Don't be fooled, boy, I'm not giving up on my daughter. I will get to the bottom of this. I'm just... I'm just baffled. Why won't you talk? Why won't you make this easier on yourself? Huh? Is it pride? Is it shame?”

  Bruce gently chuckled, delirious. He said, “I... I don't know what you're talking about. I never... I never knew what you were talking about. I don't remember talking to the girl on the internet or... I just don't know anything about it. I don't know your daughter.”

  “I don't believe you. There's too much evidence against you. We're not there yet, but I know it all leads to you. We already know you touch little girls, you've been convicted of statutory rape, and we've found evidence of other cases. You were lured here by a girl claiming to be 17 years old for crying out loud! It all leads to you, Bruce! Can't you see that?”

  “No... No, I didn't do that. You know I didn't do that. They weren't 'little' girls, they weren't kids. They were only a few years younger than me. That's all. I never messed with any kids, man. That's not me.”

  Frank shook his head and huffed. He explained, “Legally, they were kids. They were minors and you abused them. Sexual offenders, deviants like yourself, you tend to relapse. There is no rehabilitation for people like you. You are the worst type of recidivist. The sickness is... is embedded in your DNA. That's how I knew you'd strike again – and you did. I know you had something to do with my girl's disappearance. It's written on your face, it's written in your blood.”

  Bruce chuckled as he leaned back, sinking into his seat. He glared at Frank, frustrated by the man's refusal to accept his statements. His rationale was baseless, his excuses were frivolous. Every repeated word he uttered was useless. Like a sculpture cemented to the ground, Frank would not budge from his position.

  Bruce scowled and said, “I told you, motherfucker, I didn't do anything wrong. Can you understand me now, you damn bastard? You've got the wrong man! You're wasting your damn time! Listen to what I'm saying for once, you fucking idiot! Listen to me!”

  Frank furrowed his brow as he staggered back. Bruce's audacity caught him off guard. His prisoner was captivated by a newfound sense of rage, fueled by the frustration boiling within. Yet, the violent father was not convinced. Doubt lingered in his mind like a tumor, crippling his conscience. Violence was his most viable option, violence was all he knew.

  Frank slapped Bruce, then he asked, “Where's Katherine? Hmm? Where is she? You want to talk tough, huh? You don't know tough, boy. Tell me before it gets uglier. Tell me.”

  Bruce slurped the blood and saliva in his mouth, cocking his head back like a walking pigeon. He spat the gooey blob on Frank's shirt. The red goop dripped down to the floor, plopping with the collision. With one wide eye, Bruce nodded at his captor, accepting the sinister challenge ahead – bring it.

  Frank ran his fingers through his hair and returned the nod. He strolled towards the table, then he shuffled through his tools. He did not notice his vibrating phone, missing yet another call from Nathan. The world outside of his makeshift dungeon did not matter anyway. He was only concerned with his daughter and the most effective method of torture. Nathan, Wayne, and Julia could wait. Katherine, on the other hand, was running out of time.

  Frank leaned down and reached into the washing machine. He retrieved a grimy beige apron, then he tossed the garment over his shirt. He grabbed a pair of sharp, rusty scissors. A shrill creak echoed through the basement as he opened and closed the tool. The piercing sound was unnerving. He shoved them into a pocket on his apron to use at a later time. He riffled through the rest of his tools, meticulously devising his next step.

  As he glanced over his shoulder, Frank said, “I'm going to make you feel pain, Bruce. More pain than ever before...”

  ***

  Frank strolled towards the anchored chair, gripping cutting pliers in his right hand. He wagged the tool at his captive, like a scolding parent wagging his index finger at a naughty child. The round jaws and honed blades were more intimidating than the mouth of a ferocious shark. Yet, Bruce did not retreat from the challenge. He sat with his head high and his chest out.

  Frank said, “There are a few more sensitive parts on the human body. I know three, maybe four more. We're going to find out how much pain we can cause with what we have left, Bruce. We're going to the limit. We're going to the brink of death.”

  Frank ripped Bruce's shirt open, tearing the button-up garment down the center. The detached buttons bounced and rolled across the cement floor. He stared at Bruce's sculpted body, taking a gander at the figure used to manipulate young girls. The young man was physically fit, but he was not impenetrable. He was not unstoppable.

  Bruce squirmed as Frank approached with the pliers protruded forward. With the powerful jaws, Frank tightly grabbed Bruce's nipple, then he twisted his wrists. Bruce shrieked from the insufferable pain as the blades tore into his areola, ripping the pigmented skin.

  As blood oozed from Bruce's left nipple, Frank wasted no time and proceeded to the other. He followed the same formula – simple but effective. He tightly clasped the nipple, then he twisted his wrists. He turned his wrists left-and-right, ensuring he amplified the pain, then he leaned back. He tugged on the nipple with all of his weight until a piece of his areola ripped off of his chest.

  Bruce convulsed on the chair, violently trembling and wheezing. The twinge on his chest reverberated across his body, causing every limb to shudder. He was disgusted by the blood streaming from his nipples. The mere sight made him groan and croak.

  Frank dropped the pliers on the floor, then he said, “I told you it would hurt. I warned you about this.” He gazed at his captive's bleeding areolae, watching as the blood oozed out like milk from a mother's teat. As Bruce coughed and groaned, Frank said, “Oh, come on. It can't be as bad as whatever you did to those young girls you kidnapped. It can't be. Besides, some people actually find pleasure in this sort of stuff. I expected a deviant bastard like yourself to enjoy it, too. Frankly, this isn't the worst. I thought of it just now.”

  As Frank strolled towards his tools, Bruce said, “You... You're nothing but a bastard – a demented bastard. You don't know what you're doing. You... You've got the wrong person and you know it. You fucked up and it's all going to come back to you.”

  “No. It's impossible. I listed the evidence for you, I laid it all out. It all links back to you. No matter how you try to flip it, it always comes back to you. You fucked up, not me. Now, you can tell me where you're hiding my daughter and end this or we can keep going. You understand? You can stop this. If you don't talk, then the torture will have to continue. So, tell me something, Bruce. Talk to me.”

  As a cold sweat materialized across his body, Bruce trembled and said, “Fuck you. I don't know shit.”

  ***

  Frank sighed in disappointment. He tightly clenched his fists as the rage swelled within. A droplet of blood streamed across his hand as his fingernails pierced into his palm. Once again, he did not receive any information on his daughter's whereabouts; once again, he felt compelled to re
sort to violence, even when his conscience told him to stop.

  He grabbed a coping saw from the table, then he returned to the anchored chair. Through his gritted teeth, Frank sternly asked, “Where's my daughter? Where is she?”

  Bruce shook his head and weakly said, “Go fuck yourself...”

  With bloodshot eyes, Frank glared at his prisoner. He staggered to his knees, placing the coping saw on the ground near the chair. He wheezed as he slowly lifted Bruce's right pant-leg, shoving the garment up to his kneecaps.

  Bruce clenched his jaw and held his breath as he exerted all of his energy, trying his damnedest to snap the restraints on his leg. He predicted the next step in Frank's horrifying plan. Despite the strong urge to escape, his efforts were fruitless.

  Bruce shouted, “Stop! Please! Stop, goddammit!”

  Frank said, “I'm going to cut some of these restraints to get this saw in there, you understand? Then, I'm going to cut your ankle. I'm going to rip it to shreds and make sure you never walk again. If you dare kick me, I'll cut your dick off and shove it down your throat while you're still breathing. I'll make you eat it. Believe me...”

  “No, no, no. Don't do this. I'm innocent! I swear, I don't know where your girl is, I don't know anything about that! Please, I'm begging you! It wasn't me!”

  Ignoring the pleas for mercy, Frank sawed through the restraint around Bruce's ankle. He tugged on Bruce's trembling foot, but he could not fit the coping saw. He sighed in disappointment, then he proceeded to the next restraint. The rope around his shin snapped with ease. With the first sign of freedom, Bruce frantically kicked and squirmed. Frank stumbled back, barely dodging the bloodied foot.

  With a steady face, Frank accepted the attempted attack. He tortured the man for hours without certainty. At heart, he sought punishment for his deeds. He also understood the consequences of showing weakness. Even with only the slightest certainty, he refused to release Bruce and allow his daughter's disappearance to remain a mystery – it was out of the question.