Sinful Crime

by W L Knightly

  It wasn’t until then that he realized his hands had been tied in front of him, which was much better than how he’d been with his hands behind him. “Oh, sure, you let me drink all I want so I can piss myself again.”

  “You’ll drink to keep hydrated. You’ll piss yourself because you’re going to die humiliated like my little girl.”

  Michael was to the point that he didn’t care about much of anything, and even the glimmers of hope that he’d had for survival were fading with each passing minute. Now, he lay on the floor, a half-empty bottle of water beside him, his hands tied in front of his shirtless body, his pants soaked with piss. My how the mighty have fallen.

  He used to have everything he wanted in life and more. Now, he had nothing. “Why don’t you get it over with?”

  “That’s the point of waking you up. I want you alert. If you don’t drink, I’ll pour that fucking water down your throat.”

  He took the bottle and opened it. It was one of the more normal things he’d experienced in the past however many days he’d been captive. He gulped down what was left and instantly felt a wave of nausea, but he managed to keep down the liquid. “I’m hungry. Any last meal?”

  “Nope. But if it makes you feel any better, it won’t be long now, and once we get started playing our game, your hunger will be the last thing on your mind.”

  “Haven’t you tortured me enough?”

  “Enough? I haven’t even begun.” He stepped over and turned on a light, which nearly blinded Michael.

  He still wore his contacts and could feel the grit in his eyes burning as he squinted them. “Trust me. This is pretty fucking bad.”

  As if to prove a point, Madden grabbed him by the hair and dragged him across the room, kicking and screaming. The force of his grip left Michael with a pounding headache.

  “I thought about bringing your son and daughter,” the Hangman said. “Making them watch, just like my little one did. You’re lucky that I didn’t want to take that chance.”

  “Please, let me go. I will make it right. I will make it all right. I’ll turn myself in. My son and I will both serve time if that’s what you want.”

  “Do you think you can go back and do it all over again? Is that what you think?” He chuckled slightly. “You’re even worse than I thought. You think that there is still a way that you could win? A way you could get yourself out of this? I’m sure every fucking tragedy in your life has been cushioned with money—every mighty gust of wind that came your way—but that’s not how it gets to be for everyone, and if I show you anything—if there’s one lesson I want you to learn—it’s going to be that death does not discriminate. It does not show favorites, nor does it show mercy. Make no fucking mistake. I’m here to bring you death in the worst possible way.”

  Michael trembled, his body shaking uncontrollably, his chin quivering so hard his teeth chattered.

  He was dragged to his feet, which were tied together at the ankles, then pushed down into a chair like a posable doll Madden had complete control of.

  And then came another shock to his system. A striking blow that penetrated his shoulder and ripped a strangled cry from his lips.

  “That’s right. Scream for me. No one is going to hear you out here, and I like the sound of it.”

  Michael had hated Madden before, but now it was worse. Michael had never felt more determined about anything than not screaming in pain for the asshole’s satisfaction. He gritted his teeth as Madden stepped forward and dug his fingers into the wound.

  As much as he tried, he still ripped out a scream that made his own ears rattle.

  “I’ve seen others take this better than you have,” teased Madden. “Your pampered lifestyle has made you soft. You probably still think you’re still going to get out of this. But there is no one here to stop me, no one to buy me off from my task.”

  “If you think you’re going to hurt me with words, you’re mistaken,” said Michael. “Insult me all you want. I’d have to first give a shit about your opinions for it to bother me. And that’s one thing I’ve never fucking cared about. I did what I did to help my son, and I don’t regret it, even now. If that’s what you’re trying to accomplish, you lose.”

  The Hangman didn’t respond. Instead, he took more blood from the wound, walked over to the closest wall, and drew a diagram.

  “What’s that supposed to be?” Michael asked through gritted teeth. His pain was so intense that he could feel it in every nerve in his body.

  “This is your last chance to do something besides hurt,” said Madden. “You’re welcome for the opportunity.”

  “Yeah, how pathetic, Madden. I’ve heard you make your victims play games.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m not playing anything with you. You lose again.”

  “You’ll play. They all play. Just like you made a fucking game of my life and controlled all of the players, that’s what I’m doing to you.” The Hangman sliced Michael across his chest, and the blood seeped from the gash and dripped down his body. “That should do it.” He finished drawing his lines, and Michael tried hard to see what it could mean. “This is a special puzzle. We’ll see if you can guess this one.”

  A word game? His whole damned life was coming down to this one fucking puzzle? “Is that supposed to be my crime or something?”

  “You’re the only one who’s guessed,” said Madden, seemingly impressed. “Something like that. You’re certainly guilty of it.”

  “I’m guilty of a lot of things, things I don’t even remember. But so are you. Who made you judge and jury?”

  Madden smiled. The devilish grin gave Michael chills. “You did,” said Madden. “You all did.”

  Michael’s anger was going to give him a heart attack. He could feel his heart beating ninety to nothing in his chest. He was helpless as Madden put the noose around his neck.

  “Now we play. Get to your feet.” Madden helped him along, and Michael hated it, but he knew the sooner that he got this over with, the sooner the pain would stop.

  But then, so would everything else. The memory of his little girl’s face the very first time he saw her, along with his son back when he was not a lunatic. He would never have amazing sex like he’d had with Rowan that made him feel young again, or taste fine food with his wife, or drink the best wine with friends.

  “Don’t do this,” he begged. He hated himself for letting the words slip out.

  Madden picked his nails with the knife, then pointed toward the wall. “Pick a letter.”

  “I don’t want to play. This is my life. This is more than a fucking game!”

  “Now you know the frustration I feel every fucking day. It was my life, and you treated it like a game.” He lashed out, slicing Michael across the chest, the line intersecting the other in a lazy X pattern.

  “Guess a fucking letter,” said Madden. “It’s the game of your life. You might as well play along. It could only make it easier.”

  Easier? He doubted it, but the words somehow gave him hope that it would be over with sooner.

  “E,” said Michael, who finally took a look at the board through his sweat-stained eyes. There were eight blanks. He had not played this silly game since he was a child.

  “See there? You’re off to a better start than most.” Madden slammed his fingers into Michael’s marred flesh. He choked out an agonizing cry. Once Madden’s fingers were coated, he turned and drew an “E” in the second blank.

  “I thought you said it would be easier,” the senator said through gritted teeth, the lingering pain more than he could handle without wincing.

  “It will be.” He looked Michael in the eyes. “Now, guess again.”

  “This is useless. What do you stand to gain?” He couldn’t see the point, other than satisfying his own sick needs. “You’re no better than my son, the person you hate.”

  “I bet you wish you’d just given me the trial your son deserved. Then I wouldn’t be making up for it now.” He struck out again, this time
sticking Michael in the gut. “Give me a fucking letter!”

  Michael could tell he was losing it by the wild look in his eyes. He refused to give the man what he wanted, especially at his expense. “You’re going to have to fucking kill me.”

  “Come on. Play along. You owe me that much, don’t you think? How about a fucking ‘M’ or ‘P’?” He stuck his fingers in the wound, and as Michael’s knees buckled with the pain, causing the rope to tighten, Madden walked over and filled in the blanks with those letters. “What about an ‘N’?”

  Michael looked up at the wall. “Nepotism,” he said, his voice cracking on the word as Madden turned around and stuck him in the gut. He should have known it would be something like that. Madden had hated him for what he’d done for his family.

  He felt the sting of the blade, like a hot knife through cold butter, smooth and fast. The pain was hot too, sharp and intense like someone had hollowed him out and used him as a chimney.

  “Congratulations,” said Madden with a harsh tone. “Was that so fucking hard?”

  It sure as hell wasn’t easy. “Fuck you,” said Michael as he slumped forward, the rope tightening around his neck so that he could feel his airways closing. He gasped for his breath, like a fish out of water, and Madden smiled as he struggled to get his footing.

  He righted himself, but still, the rope bit tightly into his neck. The pressure built in his face, but it wasn’t strong enough to make him want to pass out.

  “No,” said Madden. “Fuck you.”

  He kicked the chair, and Michael’s eyes widened as he went off balance and struggled to keep it together.

  He managed to keep one foot on the stool, which had shifted under his feet instead of being kicked out from under it. The rope was too tight for Michael to speak. He watched as Madden looked him in the eyes and smiled. “There it is,” he said. “There’s the look of terror I wanted to see. I want you to die knowing I’m going to kill your family too. Your piece of shit son and that sweet little daughter of yours.”

  Michael wanted so badly to go after him that he reacted without thinking, losing his balance as the rage and desire to kill Madden and protect his children filled his mind.

  The chair finally toppled and left him dangling, and the last image in his mind was his daughter’s face.

  Chapter 21

  Kyle

  Spying out his window, Kyle’s head began to hurt. He had sat outside Kendra’s house for hours, waiting to see if anyone else was coming around to offer her comfort. There had to be someone who was giving her affection. She had never been one to be alone. But to his surprise, after an hour of sitting there in his car across the street and just one house down, he hadn’t caught anyone coming or going.

  Just when he decided to settle in for another hour, a car came down the road, and the closer it got, he could see it was the Spokane PD coming to pay another visit.

  “Fucking pigs,” he said, seeing them in his rearview. He started the car and put his phone to his ear so anyone passing would think he belonged there and was just finishing a call before driving away, which he did a moment after they pulled into her driveway.

  He would have to come back later, and with any luck, he’d get the chance to follow Kendra out. She had to be seeing someone, meeting them away from home so she didn’t cast shadows on herself. Something had made her change her mind about him.

  He drove back to the Rockford, hoping for a little peace and quiet while he waited out the cops, and he went inside and headed toward the bar.

  Rowan was standing at the front desk. “Hey,” she called as he passed by. “Too good to say ‘hello’?”

  He stopped and turned back. “Sorry, I’ve got a one-track mind when it comes to getting wasted. I thought I’d get a drink before I headed upstairs.”

  “I didn’t think you were in town anymore. I haven’t seen your old man. He stood me up.”

  “Don’t take it too personally, Rowan. He’s a dog, my father. You’re better off without him.”

  “Is that what he told you to tell me?” She was genuinely upset, but he didn’t have time to coddle her like she had him. “Look, if you want, come have a drink with me.”

  “I can’t right now,” she said, leaning across her counter. “But how about we hook up later? We could piss off your old man together. Tear down the walls?”

  The offer was tempting, and Rowan was gorgeous enough, but he just wasn’t sure he wanted to open another can of worms. “I’ll think about it.”

  “The offer stands. I think we’d be hot together, and let’s face it. Your dad is done with me. I thought he was going to take you when he left town, but I guess that was a lie too.”

  Kyle narrowed his eyes. “When were you supposed to meet up?”

  “A couple of nights ago,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I guess he had to get back home to the wife for the weekend.”

  “No, my mother’s out of town. He’s not seeing her. But now that you mention it, I haven’t heard from him since the other day.”

  “Guess he dropped out on both of us. Probably ended up finding another woman. He hasn’t checked out of his room yet, so maybe he’ll be back. I hope he brings his bitch with him.”

  Kyle grinned. “Be nice. Jealousy is not an attractive look on you.” He gave her a little wave and then headed to the bar. His father’s problems were not his own, and he had too much to worry about as it was.

  He ordered a drink and downed it, followed by two more. By the time he was done, he was feeling it and itching to go upstairs for some cocaine. He paid his tab, left a nice tip, and went to the elevator. When the door opened, he was face to face with Dannie.

  “There you are!” she scolded. “I’ve been up there knocking on your door. I was just about to give up.”

  “I know you’re angry, darling, but I assure you, I will talk to the publishers and get you your money.” He stepped on and hoped she’d step off, with no luck.

  As the doors closed, he knew he was in for an ass chewing of epic proportions.

  She shook her head and glared at him. “No, it’s like I told you. If we’re going to work this out, then I want my money you promised.”

  “I couldn’t get it. I’m sorry.”

  “You’re boozed up, and I know that cost you plenty. Why didn’t you just give me that money and stay sober? This is my life you’re fucking with. My home.”

  “And our deal has nothing to do with the fact that you can’t pay your bills, Dannie. That’s one-hundred percent on you.”

  “You told me you could get me my money, and now you can’t. I’m beginning to think that you’re nothing more than a big fat liar!”

  Kyle had heard enough. As soon as the elevator door opened, he beelined to his room and opened the door.

  Even though he wasn’t going to let her in, Dannie bullied her way into the room. “Show me your novel. I want to see proof of this great book you’re writing. Is that just another way you get women in bed? Are you really the senator’s son?”

  “Yes, if you don’t believe me, Google it. And I don’t have to justify myself to you.” He took a deep breath and looked into her big bright eyes, thinking of how he’d like to wrap his hands around her throat and squeeze until she was gasping for air. He’d done it a few times in bed, but this time, he didn’t want her to catch her breath.

  “So where is it? Where is this big story of yours? The one I was getting you information on. I think you’re just a sick fuck. One of those assholes who likes to get off on a gruesome story.”

  “You got off on it too, princess. Don’t even pretend you didn’t. I wonder what your family and friends would think if that little tidbit got out about you. Me? I’m a dirty bastard. That kind of news is usually swept under the rug when it comes to men, but a woman? One who did such horrible things, spilling information when she wasn’t supposed to and then having an illicit affair with devious sex and kink? You’d be ruined. I’d be considered a playboy. It’s all in how the media spins it. And
I have more connections and money than you. Think about that, Dannie.”

  Dannie’s eyes filled with tears. “You’re such an asshole. You wouldn’t pin it on me. You wouldn’t want anyone to know anything. You’re the senator’s son and too afraid of daddy to do anything that might get the two of you bad press.”

  “Don’t be so sure. We’re used to it, and you know how it goes. A poor girl like you, one so desperate for my money? They would have fun with you. Eat you alive.” He knew that was what he had to do. “And as for my books and my life, you don’t know me. You want to see my story? I’ll show it to you. You’ll be sorry you accused me and threw away what we had.”

  He walked to the small closet and opened the door as he kept his back toward her. She would have to die. He couldn’t let her continue out in the world with everything she knew about him. He took the bag from the closet, the one he kept a spare hunting knife in, and walked toward her.

  She backed away, her eyes wild with fear, the gleam in her eyes pure hatred for him.

  “No, don’t run,” he said. “You wanted to see my story. I want to show you it’s real. Come closer, Dannie. Let me show you.”

  She hurried to the door. “You’re crazy! I came back here to make up, and I should have known you weren’t going to have my money. You’re a liar.” She threw the door open and ran right into Kendra.

  She turned and gave him a hard look. “You’re seeing someone else?” Dannie asked. “That’s what this is all about? Well, you can take your money and shove it. I don’t need it, and I sure as hell don’t need you!” She turned toward Kendra and suddenly looked as if someone had hit her with a ton of bricks. “Wait, I know you. I’ve seen you before. At the restaurant. You’re that judge’s wife. The one who was murdered.”

  Dannie turned her attention toward Kyle and gave him an accusing look. Kyle wondered if she had begun to piece it all together. But then she opened her mouth again.