Third Degree

by J. D. Dudycha

  Knowing they had little time, Collar did as she was told. Standing there on the side of the road, she watched him speed his way toward Walter for a game of chicken.

  Collar reached down for her weapon and lifted it free. She began to jog behind Risen’s sedan, all the while keeping her gaze focused ahead. As she ran, she knew the likelihood of Risen coming out unscathed was unlikely, but he seemed willing to sacrifice his well-being for this mission.

  With the snow rising behind the sedan, it was difficult to see what Risen would do, but not more than a few seconds later, Collar heard the unmistakable sound of crashing metal. Then all went quiet. The crash spurned her to run faster. Inside that eerie silence, Collar couldn’t help but consider the safety of her friend.

  After thirty seconds of running, Collar was only fifty feet behind the crash site. There was no sign of movement from either vehicle. She approached slowly. Risen’s sedan was turned diagonal across the road, as if he had begun to swerve or thought if he turned the vehicle to the left, the passenger side of the car would take the brunt of the force.

  As she got closer, she could see Risen. He leaned on the window, an airbag acting as his pillow, but still she saw no movement. She stood on tiptoe to peer over the car, but smoke exited the front of Walter’s SUV, making it difficult to see anything.

  She needed to make sure Walter was still inside the SUV before checking on her friend. She swung around the trunk of the sedan, took three steps, but then stopped dead. The driver-side door was open, and there was no sign of Walter inside.

  Panicked, she stared down the road toward the barn. Smith and his partner were running toward her, but they were far off. Too far off to offer advice or help. Collar moved around the SUV to see if Walter was hiding on the other side. At first all she saw was a trail of blood, a crimson dot every few feet in the stark white snow, running along the bank. She followed the trail up the bank, only to see Walter making a break for it across a field, hobbling for his life.

  Collar fired a shot into the air, but that didn’t stop him from running. No way he was going down without a fight.

  “I guess we’ll do this the hard way.” Collar started into a sprint. She caught him in no time but paused a few feet behind him. “Walter! Give it up! Get down on your knees!”

  But he didn’t. Instead, he stopped, turned, and swung at her with a wild haymaker. Collar ducked his attempt. His heavy frame moved him off balance, and Collar countered with a heel kick to his knee. The blow buckled him to the ground. With two bad legs, he tried to stand but only doubled over again. He looked up to her from his knees, defeated.

  She bent down to him in seething anger. “You and I are going to have a little talk about those girls you took.”

  Walter smiled from his position and said, “What girls?”

  27

  Upstate New York

  NIKI STOOD TALL WITH her hands tied behind her back. Her hair fell into her eyes as she remained hooded and gagged. She blinked and puffed wind from her mouth doing her best to move the hair away because it itched now and made her skin crawl. The room fell silent after Mr. Ritter left them alone. She didn’t know where Ashley or the other young woman were, but she assumed they stood next to her, as she could feel the presence of others, one to each side.

  She bit down on the gag in her mouth. Still, the taste of motor oil and grease lingered. Moving her head around she strained her eyes, but she could see nothing but black as a rattling voice boomed.

  “Hello, ladies. I see Mr. Ritter has picked well for me,” the voice said in a heavy Russian accent.

  Niki immediately discerned the voice came from in front of her, from an elevated position, maybe a second-story staircase. Then someone took a loud step, a heel clapping down hard on a solid surface, such as wood or tile.

  Niki counted his steps as he continued stepping toward them. One, two, three . . . until she got to ten, and the sound changed as the steps planed off onto another surface.

  “Do you know why you’re here?” the voice asked as the man stopped in front of Niki.

  Niki swallowed beneath the gag. She wanted to speak but couldn’t. To say something smart, to make herself be known. To establish some sort of rapport with the mysterious man.

  “Silly me.” The man chuckled to himself. “I forgot, you don’t have the ability to speak.” He started walking again, this time circling.

  “You’ve chosen well, Mr. Ritter.” The voice now came from behind.

  “Thank you, Sergei,” Mr. Ritter said. He hadn’t left them after all. “I’ve found the best.”

  “The best, you say?” Sergei said.

  “That’s right. That one right there in the middle is a future Olympian.”

  Sergei stepped forward, Niki could feel his proximity. Then he came even closer, pushing himself into her backside. Niki’s pulsed quickened at his touch. She clenched her fists, her wrists still tied.

  Don’t touch me.

  He lifted the back of her hair and brought it upward. Niki heard him sniff in. He loitered for a moment, then let her hair fall and stepped away. “Not an Olympian anymore,” he said. “Not after my clients get done with her.”

  Mr. Ritter chuckled and said, “I suppose not.”

  Niki could only imagine what was running through Ashley’s head. It must be spinning. But Niki remained calm amid Sergei’s attempt to show dominance.

  When Sergei returned to the front, he said, “Remove their hoods.”

  At that moment, the hood was ripped from Niki’s head. A bright light beamed in her eyes. Partially blinded, Niki ducked her head and squinted.

  “And their gags.”

  Niki opened her mouth wide as the greasy rag fell.

  “And their hands.”

  Surprised, Niki pulled her wrists apart once the knife cut through the rope and released her binds. Once free, she looked to her left, then right. Both Ashley and the other women were there. Both had panic in their eyes and worry on their faces. Once Niki regained sight, she scanned the area. Ten steps did in fact lead up to another level. The decorations were ornate, far too lavish for her present company. A beautiful crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling. Finally, she noticed an ornamental rug running along the hallway floor beyond Sergei, and the wood on the walls was thick dark mahogany.

  “What is this place?” Niki was the first to speak.

  “I can see why this one is the future Olympian,” Sergei said, taking a step toward her. “She’s not afraid. Well, maybe deep down she is, but on the surface, she doesn’t show it. I bet you’re willing to go further than any other athlete out there your age, aren’t you?”

  Niki squared his eye and said, “You have no idea.”

  Sergei held his hand over his mouth, shook his head no, and grinned. “You, girl, you will be my shining star, won’t you? Perhaps you’ll fetch the highest price ever recorded. I can’t wait to see my clients drool over you. They’ll be falling all over themselves.”

  “Don’t you forget where she came from,” Mr. Ritter chimed in.

  “Yes. Yes. Of course you’ll be rewarded as well,” Sergei said nonchalantly. He backed away from Niki and said, “Where are my manners? I am Sergei. This is my house.” He opened his arms wide, reaching to the sky.

  “That’s all well and good, Sergei . . . but like I said, what is this place?” Niki said again. “It looks like some sort of gothic Victorian.”

  Sergei gritted his teeth as he glared at Niki. “It may not look like it, but this is in fact an auction house.”

  “An auction house?” Ashley chimed in.

  “That’s correct,” he said.

  “What does that mean exactly?” Ashley’s voice was nervous now.

  “It means, I invite high-profile guests to bid on my product, and you”—he pointed to each of them—“are my product.”

  “And what exactly are these people bidding on?” Niki said.

  Sergei grinned. “That’s their own choice. I can say this: some of you will be taken t
o other countries to be used as sexual toys to satisfy the men of the house. Others may stay here in the US. Trust me when I say, the US has more deviants than any other country. So, staying here is probably the worst future for you. On the other hand, I’ve seen Saudi princes come into my establishment only to pluck the most beautiful, the most inspiring, only to bring them back to their homeland and use them as they wish. Perhaps make them a concubine. Someone like you maybe.” He pointed directly at Niki.

  I’d like to see them try.

  “Enough talk for now. Let me give you the tour.” Sergei turned and started up the stairs.

  Four guards stepped in from behind the women. They were big, each standing over six-foot-two and weighing over two hundred pounds, and all carrying automatic rifles across their chest.

  “Move,” one said, standing behind Niki.

  Niki peeked over her shoulder, watching the men close in. She stepped forward, following Sergei up the first of the stairs. The stairs were in fact tile, and once the cold surface touched the bottom of Niki’s feet a shiver went up her spine, only now realizing she had been standing nearly naked. She no longer wore the nightgown Walter had provided each of the women. Now she wore only a silk negligee. And the temperature inside the house was not warm enough to hide how cold her skin was.

  Once they reached the top of the staircase, the room expanded. A hallway continued, spreading wide, and ahead there were closed doors, four on each side. On each door was a number, much like an address plate on a house. Rooms 1 through 4 were on the left, and 5 through 8 on the right.

  “Stop right there.” Sergei held up his hand and nodded to his men.

  The guards dispersed, moving toward the closed doors on the right. Niki watched them walk ahead, but then her attention was captured by what rested off to her right at a ninety-degree angle. There was another hallway, with three more doors. And at the end of the hall was a bed. Not a normal mattress, more of a daybed, pushed against an open window. Light poured in through that rectangular window, the first natural light she saw. It wasn’t a wide window, only a double-hung white vinyl window with a simple locking system.

  Maybe . . . She took a step toward it, not even considering what Sergei would say or do. She continued as if she was magnetically attracted to the window, blinded by what lay beyond. The peculiar thing was, Sergei allowed her to take every step.

  Niki walked to the end of the hall, leaned over the daybed, and peered outside. A small half-moon roof hung over a bay window. Perfect, Niki thought.

  But once she turned around, Sergei was standing close. “Anything interesting?”

  “I . . . no. I just saw the light.” Niki pointed outside.

  “I hope so. For your eternal salvation, I hope you’ve seen the light,” he mocked. “But that light, the light out there”—he pointed outside as well—“you’ll never see that again without my permission.”

  Niki wasn’t frightened. So you say, but I promise you, I’ll be the last thing you see on this earth. And when you die, it won’t be in vain. It will be a righteous killing.

  “Let me show you to your room.” He grabbed onto her arm and pulled her along.

  There was no sign of Ashley or the other woman. Sergei pulled her to the last room, door number 8. The door was open at their arrival. “After you,” Sergei said.

  “How gentlemanly,” Niki sneered.

  Three walls inside the room were stark white, reminding Niki of a hospital room. The fourth wall was not a wall at all, but rather floor-to-ceiling glass.

  “What’s this?”

  Sergei walked to the glass and touched it. “This is so we can watch.”

  Niki gulped. This was disgusting. “Watch what?”

  Sergei smiled and said, “You’ll see.” He turned and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

  28

  Minneapolis, Minnesota

  FBI Field Office

  WALTER SAT WITH HIS eyes closed and his hands crossed on the table in front of him. He hadn’t opened his eyes since arriving in the interrogation room that morning, and as Collar stared at him from behind the two-way mirror, she wondered what it would take to break him. The FBI’s interrogators had spent most of the day trying to rattle his cage, but nothing was working. All the tactics they employed would’ve broken most men, but not Walter. He didn’t even break a sweat.

  The door opened behind her, but she didn’t avert her stare. She couldn’t take her eyes off him. She was too busy wondering what made him tick, why he did the things he did.

  A man joined her by her side and said, “What are you thinking?”

  She turned to face him after recognizing his voice.

  “Risen!” She wrapped him in a hug. When she pushed him away, she said, “The doctor cleared you?”

  “Obviously.” He held out his arm in a sling. “It was the shoulder. And a few lacerations on my face. Still pretty, though.” He winked. “Doc says I’m pretty lucky considering the accident.”

  “No shit,” Collar said.

  Risen faced the glass and said, “And him?”

  “Not a scratch on him.”

  “Figures. My guys have a go at him yet?”

  “For the better part of a day,” Collar said. “They turned up nothing.”

  “Huh.” He nodded to himself. “You’re thinking about having a go at him, aren’t you?”

  “Crossed my mind, yeah.”

  “What are you waiting for then? Show me how ZULU does interrogations.” He grinned. “You’ve done one or two in your time, haven’t you?”

  “A few.” She smiled. “But this is different. Dealing with terrorists and dealing with this maniac are two different scenarios altogether. You have a set of rules, laws you need to abide by. I don’t have those same hindrances.”

  “Sounds like excuses to me. You want answers, go ask him.”

  “Fine. But I can’t promise he’s going to look the same after I’m done with him.”

  “I would expect nothing less.” Risen winked.

  Collar exited and walked toward the cell where Walter was being held. She reached for the handle but paused as she spun the knob, inhaling a deep breath, something she always did before an interrogation. She didn’t know why. Maybe it was to calm her nerves or to psyche herself up. But there was no more time to linger. A few days had passed since Niki was abducted, more for Ashley. She had to break him now. Collar had no choice, but still she wasn’t sure what she would say.

  She opened the door and walked in, then gave a quick glance at the mirror before stepping in front of Walter. She wanted to check her appearance; the last thing she wanted Walter to see was fear. Once seated, she stared at him; his eyes were still shut. It was time to establish how this interrogation was going to go.

  She slammed her open hand on the table. The crack shook Walter awake. The pain from the slap stung her hand, but it was worth it.

  When he opened his eyes, he stared at her. “Well, aren’t you a sight for—”

  “Shut your mouth, son.” She hadn’t meant to add the word son. It’s not like Walter was young, and Collar wasn’t old. But that one word, one syllable, sent Walter rocking in his seat. He lowered his brow, and his slouching body language and inability to look her in the eye told Collar he was clearly uncomfortable.

  It was like a hypnotic safe word, a word someone must have used to burrow deep into the caverns of his brain. “Where are they, son? Where are the girls?”

  Walter rocked in his seat. He shook with anger but refused to answer.

  “I said, where are they, son?”

  “Stop that!” Walter turned defensive. His face dropped.

  Collar kicked the chair out from behind her and walked to his side. She wanted to use his battered mental state against him. As she stood over him, she realized just how big he was. Even slumped over in the chair, his large frame came to her neck. But she was the aggressor, the one in charge now.

  “You know where they are, don’t you, son?”


  He mumbled to himself. He couldn’t handle her tone; she was breaking him down.

  Collar moved away from his side and stepped toward the center of the room. “Okay, don’t tell me where they are, tell me about the seven dead women inside your barn.”

  Walter stopped rocking and looked up. But he shied away when Collar caught his eye. “You know about that?”

  “Of course we do, son. And if you don’t tell me where I can find those young women you took, I swear to you, you’ll go down for every single murder in your barn.”

  “I didn’t do it!” he shouted into the room. He began to cry softly.

  Collar stood erect, frightened from his screaming, but quickly regained control.

  “I couldn’t do it. They were special to me. All of them have been.”

  Collar returned to his side, kneeling down. “I know they were special, Walter.” She feigned empathy. “Tell me about them.”

  Walter described every girl in perfect detail, leaving nothing out. It was as if he truly knew and admired them.

  After he described the seven, he began to speak of his more recent victims. When he got to the last girl, Collar spoke again. “Tell about the last girl. The last one you took from the college.”

  Walter shook his head. “No, I can’t.”

  “Yes, you can.”

  “No. He’ll hurt me.”

  “Who Walter? Who will hurt you?”

  He shook his head again, this time furiously. He continued to weep and wail. Through his tears, he looked at Collar and said, “It was him. Him all along. He wanted me to do this. To take the girls so he and his friends could have their fun.”

  “Who’s him, Walter?”

  “My brother.”

  Collar shot to her feet and stared into the glass, wanting to make sure Risen heard.

  “Your brother?”

  Walter nodded yes amongst the cries.

  “Where did he take them?”

  Walter paused and rubbed his sleeve across his nose to soak up the dripping snot. “To a house.”

  “Which house? For what?”