I can’t get out.
Chapter 43
CALISTA
The package is secure by the time I arrive.
But it’s not the package I’m worried about.
“Where’s Christopher?”
A glance around the abandoned schoolyard shows Marlin and a body bag causally slung over one shoulder.
He ignores the question and throws our newfound patient into the backseat of his car. It’s the smile on his face that has my knife flicking into my palm, the serrated blade flipping between my fingers until it’s pressed tight against his throat.
“Do not make me ask again, old friend.” Digging the blade in, I feel my lips peel back into a snarl, “You have already undermined me once this evening.”
Violet eyes flick over my face, lazily tracing the vicious point of my canines without an ounce of concern.
“He was the complication.”
“Spit it out, Marlin.”
“The path he did not choose. Back at the Seaborn Mansion, when he was racing to find a way to save Finley.”
He pauses, reaching up to wipe the blood that’s seeping from the edge of my blade.
“I retraced his steps and found the bridge was pinched between two sewer pipes that were not easily seen from our angle. A narrow margin, but for a man of my height, I was able to see the aquarium in its entirety with every step.”
“What are you saying.”
“I’m saying that if you took a few inches off and had a man with a more average stature, the trek to the ladder would have been uncomfortable. Doable, and well within reason, but tight.”
I stare at the malicious glint in his eyes that I’ve grown to know so well.
“He’s claustrophobic.”
“To an extreme degree, it would seem. I took the liberty of digging into old police reports and found one worth noting.”
His chin lifts and I reluctantly lower my knife.
“Roger Dearly, an exceedingly successful CFO worked for the company that was shooting a commercial featuring the up-and-coming supermodel Cruella Deville. He was one of Christopher’s many stepfathers and had a collection of hunting dogs.”
I nod slowly, “He would count down the days until hunting season began.”
“A fact I cannot confirm, however, given the abundance of animals in such an expensive neighbourhood, you can imagine there were plenty of noise reports filed over the years. Noise reports I merely skimmed the first time around, not taking into account the timeline between Christopher’s new home and his decision to live on the street.”
A sour taste hits the back of my throat, “His stepfather beat him.”
“Not exactly.” Marlin glances down, fiddling with the cuff links decorating his sleeve, “The animals were known to howl at night, painful cries that triggered numerous police visits and plenty of animal abuse charges.”
A man who deserves to die.
“Each report listed the same basic information, the same signs of abuse that were quite repetitive – tight living quarters for the animals and minimal food unless it was time for them to hunt. In which case food would be served in abundance to encourage the proper conditioning.”
“During one of the house calls the police reported a surplus of flesh and blood in one of the cages.”
He pauses, letting the words drift into the night sky before adding the finishing touch to a horrifying picture.
