by PJ Fernor
“Okay, good,” I said. “Thank you for that. I was trying to escape. Okay? I need to get out of here. I can’t help you in here. I can’t help you when I’m tied to a chair. I know you’re used to commanding people around, but I’m not someone you can do that to. There’s a process here. It’s not that simple. Just untie me. I’ll walk out of here and go do what I have to do.”
There was silence.
Other than breathing.
I listened to him breathing.
Chills moved through my body.
I felt like I was in a horror movie.
I started to turn my head and he grabbed my hair.
I yelled in pain.
“This isn’t fair,” I said.
“I agree.”
The voice made more chills surge throughout my body.
Because it wasn’t Giovanni’s voice.
My body ran cold.
“You’re not Giovanni,” I said. “You have no idea what I’m talking about.”
“No,” the voice said.
“Then who are you? What do you want with me?”
A hand touched my shoulder.
Then it ran down my arm.
I started to shake.
Finally, his hand stopped at my wrist and he used just his pointer finger to tap at my wrist.
“This is what I want,” he whispered.
I was able to turn my head.
I looked right at him.
It was Timothy Perkins.
Chapter Seventy-Three
“Timothy,” I said.
“Detective,” he said. “Detective Allie Down. Oh, how I’ve heard your name more than a few times lately.”
He disappeared for a second and grabbed the back of the chair.
He tilted it back and dragged me back to the middle of the floor.
As the door moved away from me, my heart sank deeper into my chest.
All I could picture was Ben arriving at Timothy’s house, Muldavey at his side, thinking they were going to make an arrest. Only to find the house empty. Then would start texting and calling me. Wondering where I was.
Ben was smart enough to know something was wrong.
And there was no way he would ever find me…
Timothy walked to get another chair and sat across from me. “Detective Allie Down.”
“Timothy Perkins,” I said.
“Here we are.”
“Correct. What’s the end game here?”
“We’ll get there in a few minutes. Don’t you want to know my story?”
“You’re a murderer,” I said. “That’s your story.”
“It was more of an opportunity than anything else,” he said.
“That’s good to know,” I said. “Your best bet is to cut me loose. My partner is on his way here.”
“No, he’s not,” Timothy said.
“He can track my phone.”
“We’ll be finished by then.”
My teeth chattered for a few seconds.
The look in his eyes scared me.
He was calm but not sane.
“I’m good at my job,” Timothy said. “Very good at my job. Not the killing thing. Not the cutting off a hand thing. That’s a side job for me. Or was. I’m getting close to retirement there.”
“Forced retirement,” I said. “I can’t wait to arrest you.”
“Do you know how to use handcuffs with one hand, Detective?” Timothy asked.
“What does that mean?”
He stood and walked to a desk and produced a long, jagged tooth knife.
Oh, no…
“You’re going to be the last one,” he said.
“If you plan on cutting off my hand, I’m going to pass out,” I said. “So if you want to tell me your story, you better do it now.”
“Now she wants to hear me,” he said. He sat back down with the knife in his hand. “I made good money, Detective. I had everything in order. But I became bored. You know they say things about idle hands, right? Meaning you get bored and bad things happen. That’s what happened to me. I got bored and stumbled across what I thought was a great opportunity. To own part of a restaurant. Now, what do I know about that industry? Nothing. But it was something new. Fun. Exciting. I went against my better judgment and handed over some money. The other people backed out. So I had to give more money to get my old money back out. Thinking about it now, it’s stupid. Right? But I was scared. I had made a great mistake, Detective. I would have done anything to get that money back…”
He lowered his head and shook it.
“I’m sorry about that,” I said. “How much did you lose?”
“All of it.”
“All your money?”
“Yeah,” he said. He looked at me again. “It all happened so fast too. I gave all that money and then the restaurant quickly went under. I felt cheated. Scammed. And I was. It was a giant setup. But with legit paperwork and I was left in the dust. I hired lawyers and had to pay them too. All the while I worked my day job and never missed a deadline. Then the day came, and I had a meeting with my lawyers. Want to know what they said to me?”
“Sure,” I said.
“They told me there was nothing they could do for me. It was all over. I needed to walk away before I lost more money by paying them their outlandish fees. Their exact words…” Timothy flickered a quick smile on his smooth, pale face. “They told me there were too many hands in the kitchen. Have you ever heard that before?”
“Yes,” I said. “It means if there’s too many people involved, things get messy.”
“Exactly.”
Timothy stared at me. His round face looked tired. Hurt. Confused. Lost.
Not that I was going to offer any real sympathy, but I needed a way out of this chair and office.
“That’s why you cut their hands off,” I said.
“Too many hands in the kitchen,” he said. “I wanted to take some of those hands back.”
“Were they involved in the restaurant too?”
“No,” Timothy said. “They were just people. Dumb luck in a sense. Except one. That one was well planned out. And it’s actually part of the reason I’m here right now. I’ve got another expression for you, Detective. Ever hear kill two birds with one stone?”
“Of course I have,” I said.
“Good,” Timothy stood up.
Knife in hand.
“We’re not done talking,” I said. “I want you to know something. What you did was wrong. You hurt people. You killed people. You took their hands…”
“You want to know where I put the hands, right?”
I nodded, just to buy myself more time.
“The freezers,” he said. “How cliché, right? I’m basically a serial killer with body parts in his freezers.”
“You’re a broken man, Timothy. And I understand why. What I want you to know is that I can help you. Look, no harm, no foul here. Untie me and let me arrest you. You know what you did was wrong. The murders. But those people who took your money… give me some names. I will go after them. My way. My style. I won’t be able to take them down for what they did to you, but you aren’t the first one. I’ll find out something. You have to pay for what you did though, Timothy. You murdered innocent people. But your story is compelling. You deserve to tell it to everyone.”
“So much talking,” Timothy said. “I’m not here to talk. I’m not here to ask you to tell any stories. I’m here to finish what I started. And finish the favor so I don’t end up dead.”
“Favor?”
“Detective, how did I know you were here? How did I know what to do? I’m some finance guy bitter over a failed business. I followed people through parks and attacked them. I cut their hands off. I’m an amateur.”
“What are you trying to say?”
“Think about it,” he said.
“Someone sent you here.”
“Yes.”
“Giovanni?”
Timothy shook his head.
“Wait�
�� you killed Victor. At the lake. That was the kill that was set up… but… why?”
“Keep thinking,” Timothy said. “It’ll distract you from the pain. Cutting off your hand is for me. Killing you is for someone else. He’s done a lot for me lately. He sent me to Victor. At the lake. You’re correct. That was fun. And he sent me here to you. He knows everything about you, Detective. You have no idea what you’re up against. But at least for your sake, it’s almost over.”
“Who are you talking about, Timothy? Who sent you here?”
Timothy looked me in the eyes, knife in hand, and spoke two words I never thought would come from his mouth.
“The One.”
Chapter Seventy-Four
The teeth of the blade touched the top of my wrist.
“What does he make you say?” I asked.
Timothy looked at me. “What do you mean?”
“If you really know The One, what does he make you say?”
“We’re all his,” Timothy whispered.
I hung my head.
For a second, I forgot about the situation I was currently in.
Tied to a chair.
The man who cut off at least three hands was about to cut off my hand.
And he was somehow tied to The One.
“How?” I asked. “How did… you work for him?”
“I work for Mr. Leighland,” Timothy said. “And my side project… that’s for me. Detective, I’m going to ask you to keep quiet or else this is going to hurt even worse.”
“Do you think I won’t fight back?” I asked.
“There’s a choice to make,” Timothy said. “I can cut off your hand and leave. Or I can cut off your hand and kill you.”
“He doesn’t want me dead, does he?”
“This is a chance to fulfill two opportunities in one shot,” Timothy said. “Don’t ruin that for me.”
“And what happens when I get out of here and survive?” I asked. “One handed…”
“It’s a reminder,” Timothy said. “If you get too close to The One, bad things will happen to you.”
“And I’m supposed to just let you go?” I asked. “Never worry about you again?”
“Never,” Timothy said. “Here’s how this works, Detective. I get what I want. The One gets what he wants. And even you get what you want. That burning voice in your mind, wondering about The One. It’s simple. He’s still out there. And he’s never going to stop what he does. And if you get in the way, he will attack. As for me, after this, I’ll be just fine. The hands will keep me calm. If I decide to make another move, I won’t do it anywhere around here. Okay?”
“That’s not okay at all,” I said. “You’re a murderer.”
“I’m an opportunist.”
Timothy looked at the knife and his lip slowly snarled as he applied pressure to my wrist.
The crooked teeth dug into my skin.
It obviously hurt. And I couldn’t imagine the pain of the blade actually taking off my hand.
“Do you even know what he does?” I asked.
Timothy sighed. “I will stuff your mouth with a shirt or some paper.”
“He kidnaps young woman. Young girls. He has other people kidnap them. Did you know that?”
Timothy looked at me again.
He didn’t know that. So… how…
“That’s what he does,” I said. “And he sells them. Think about that. That’s what you’re part of now. Think about the word trafficking. That’s what you’re a part of.”
“I am not,” Timothy said.
“You work for him. He tells you what to do.”
Timothy stood tall.
The knife disappeared from my wrist.
“You know nothing about me,” Timothy said.
“He told you to do this,” I said.
“This was both of us. Just like the other one. When I drowned that man…”
“How did this happen, Timothy?”
“I explained that already.”
“You’re after me now. That’s not your doing.”
“I already told you, it was opportunity.”
“How?”
“When I saw that woman in the park… on the ground… it just… it just felt right. I had been walking at night, each night, with my knife, wondering what I was going to do. Everything is going to be taken from me, Detective. My house. My life. Of course, as I begin to follow my true path here, Leighland decides to promote me. That’s the power of doing what you believe.”
“When did you meet The One?”
“It was just some random night. I was taken to him. I thought I was being arrested at first. But they put a bag over my head.”
“They?”
“Three large men. Bodyguards. Why am I telling you this? Oh, right, to prove I don’t work for him. He fed me who to attack next. He made it so easy to do. How could I not? And when he told about you tracking me down, what choice did I have there? This is simply me being smart. Not being controlled, understand?”
“What does he look like, Timothy?”
“We’re done talking.”
Timothy moved at me again.
His left hand grabbed my hand tight and the knife hit my wrist and began to cut.
My eyes instantly filled with tears. The red-hot pain in my wrist jolted up my arm and surged through my body.
I tried to kick Timothy, but my feet were still tied.
He turned just a little, his right shoulder in my face.
I felt the teeth cut into my skin. Jagged teeth. Tearing flesh.
The only weapon I had was… was… my head…
I threw my head forward and hit his shoulder.
He sidestepped, but barely a foot.
It got him to stop cutting long enough for me to try the same move again.
“What are you-”
I let out a scream.
He waved his hands at me.
With my feet flat against the floor, I demanded my muscles work harder than they ever had before.
I managed to stand up just enough to bring the chair off the floor a few inches.
I jumped at Timothy, turning, wanting to use the chair as a weapon.
I had no balance and Timothy knew I was coming his way.
He simply lifted his right foot and kicked the chair.
My body twisted and I felt pain almost everywhere.
My wrists, shoulders, back, legs, ankles, and feet.
I fell to the floor, on my left side.
My right wrist bled onto my shirt and pants.
I told myself to stay calm, but that was very hard to do as Timothy stepped toward me again, the look in his eyes telling me I was going to be killed before my hand was to be cut off.
“Well, I appreciate the fight, Detective,” he said. “I figured you’d try something. The others didn’t know what was coming at them. You did. You found me. You tracked me down. You caught me. You knew what to do and when to do it. This time, I’m the luckier one. I was one step ahead of you when it counted most. Detective, we’re done talking. You don’t need to know anything else about The One. I’m sorry to let you down.”
Timothy smiled and he lifted the knife into the air.
I moved my left foot and hand, trying to turn. Trying to do anything. I would not end up dying without some kind of fight.
The chair scratched against the floor.
I moved a few inches and Timothy simply stepped back out of my way.
Then he laughed.
He had me right where he wanted me.
Legs and arms tied tight to the chair.
No mess ups.
No opening for me to make a move.
My right wrist throbbed in pain and leaked blood everywhere.
It was only a matter of time before I would pass out.
From blood loss. From fear. From reality.
I finally stopped moving, my eyes drifting up at Timothy.
“You kill a detective and there’s no way to get away,” I said.
> “If you believe that, then you really don’t know who The One is,” Timothy said.
The words sent chills through my body.
“Goodbye, Detective,” Timothy said. “I’ll have to kill you first, then take your hand.”
Timothy flashed the blood-stained blade at me again.
Every muscle in my body tensed up.
Behind him, the door opened with an explosion of force.
I tried to scream but had no voice.
The door slammed against the back of Timothy’s head, sending him stumbling toward me.
He tripped over me and hit the floor.
Then everything was silent.
Chapter Seventy-Five
The room was dark and silent.
I was stuck on my left side, kicking my feet against the wall, desperate to turn around to see if Timothy was alive or dead.
The moment played out in my head over and over.
The force of the door opening, hitting him in the head. Him tripping over me and crashing to the floor.
And there he was, on the floor, his face looking to the left.
Out cold.
Or dead.
“Timothy,” I said. “Can you hear me?”
I licked my lips.
I realized my mouth was getting dry.
My right arm and hand felt weak.
I had lost a lot of blood. The adrenaline rush began to subside, and I felt panic starting to settle in.
Not to mention I was still tied to a chair, on my side, trapped in the office.
“Would you like me to untie you, Detective?”
The sound of a familiar voice tore through my body.
I tried to kick my feet again, but I was trapped between the wall and Timothy’s lifeless body.
I heard footsteps for a second and then saw someone come into view.
He crouched down and touched Timothy’s neck.
“There’s a pulse,” he said. “Faint. But it’s there.”
He looked back at me and grinned.
“Giovanni,” I whispered.
“Happy to see me?”
“How…”
“Don’t ask how,” he said. “Just say thanks. I just saved your life. And your hand.”
“Can you untie me?” I asked.
“Of course I can. The question is… will I untie you?”
“I’m no use to you dead, Giovanni,” I said.