Part 5 (1/2)

”What do you want?” she cried. ”Money? s.e.x?” She shuddered at the last word, praying he didn't, praying there was something else, something that wouldn't leave a scar. Pain she could take, but that kind of pain would never leave.

The man shook his head. Holding the Taser, he reached inside his overcoat, rain beading down the dark fabric. The water spilled down his forehead into his eyes, but the man who called himself Chester hardly seemed to notice.

He removed something from his pocket and held it out to Paulina. She focused her eyes, then gasped.

It was a picture of her daughter, Abby. She was at the beach, wearing a cute pink bikini, standing in front of a ma.s.sive hole she must have dug in the sand. The photo looked fairly recent, within the last year or so. Abigail's eyes were bright and cheerful, her skin a golden brown. Abby. She looked so joyful.

Her daughter.

”Where did you get that?” Paulina yelled.

”Do you really need to ask? I had a dozen others to choose from. You really should tell her to be careful of what photos she posts on the Internet.”

”You're a freak,” she spat. ”What the h.e.l.l do you want?”

”I want you to listen to me very carefully,” the man said. He stepped closer, still holding out the photograph. Water droplets landed on the photo but he didn't seem to care. ”A long time ago, I fought in a war. I fought alongside men and women who were like my own blood. Then, one day, we found ourselves trapped. There was one man I fought with who was like family, closer to me than anyone. He was like a daughter. A mother. A brother.”

Paulina s.h.i.+vered.

”That day, we found ourselves fighting for our lives. And all of a sudden, out of nowhere, someone throws a grenade at us. I was out of harm's way, but the grenade went off right beside this man I cared about. I remember looking at him after the smoke cleared. He blinked his eyes, looked around like he was just confused. The only thing I remember more than his eyes was the splash of blood beneath him. Right where his legs had been blown clean off.”

Then, in one fluid motion, Chester held the right side of the photo with his thumb and forefinger, tore off a piece and let it flutter to the ground. It landed in front of Paulina, speckled by rain and mud.

”This is what your daughter will look like when I cut off her legs.”

Paulina felt her stomach heave, her mouth opening, her eyes burning as she cried. She reached out for the photo, but was too weak to do anything.

”Blood has its own smell. It makes you want to vomit. And imagine what happens when you see that much blood coming from someone you love.”

He gripped the picture, and ripped off another piece. Again the shred fell, twisting in the rain.