Page 40 of It Takes a Thief

“You have to click,” said Wolf.

“He doesn’t have to,” I said.

Wolf said, “But we’re dying to find out! He’s been taunting us and making life hell and getting us in trouble—”

It was Lytton who leaned over Tobiah’s shoulder and clicked on the YouTube link. A fucking ad started playing, an ad for a website you could make yourself.

“Click ‘skip ad,’” said Wolf.

Tobiah waved his spindly arms around. “You can’t click on ‘skip ad’! There is no ‘skip ad’!”

“It’s not one of those you can skip,” said Lytton.

“Maybe there’s some symbolism in this,” said Wolf. “Making your own website? He obviously made a few of his own.”

“You can’t choose the ad,” snapped Tobiah.

“Try now,” said Wolf, just to be obnoxious.

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” cried Toby. “Just let it run its course.”

Lytton and I looked at each other and rolled our eyes again. Tracy had really had a difficult decision, choosing Wolf over Tobiah.

“Okay, here we go,” said Tobiah, practically rubbing his hands together.

“Turn it up, turn it up!” shouted Wolf.

Noodlum’s sleazy, hairy face appeared, nauseating me. All the rage I’d held toward him came rushing back as adrenaline and cortisol raced through my system. His slipperiness, avoiding my capture every damned time, only added to my fury.

The sleazebag talked, grinning the whole time like he was Santa Claus. “I’m so glad you made it to my lovely YouTube channel. On this channel, you can find out my recent activities, check out handmade crafts such as artillery shells, rockets, grenades, and my favorite, the plastic explosive C-4 IED with remote triggering.”

I fumed. That’s what I had used to blow up some innocent bikers.

“You might wonder ‘what does Noodlum have in store for us?’ Well, wonder no more.” He stood, taking the camera with him, so the image was jiggly for several seconds. He got behind the camera, so it steadied, showing an average, bland hotel room that could be found all alongside interstate Route 40. A flash of neon appeared briefly in the window. The curtains, surprisingly, were open.

All four of us turned into statues, leaning closer to the screen.

“Now as you see,” said Noodlum, casual as ever, “we’ve branched out a bit with our wares.”

There was…a woman on the bed? As the camera focused, a young Mexican woman became clear. Hog-tied and gagged, he’d allowed her to see. And I’d never seen such terror on a woman’s face before.

“Holy mother,” said Wolf. “We’ve got to stop this.”

“Who knows how long ago he made this tape?” whispered Toby.

“You can find out,” I said.

Toby nodded.

The unseen Noodlum brandished a buck knife in front of the camera. The focus wavered between the knife and the terrified woman.

“As you can see, she’s completely at my mercy. Just the way I like ’em.” As he brought the needle-sharp tip of the knife to her breastbone, she started screaming. Or screaming as loud as anyone could with a thick cloth gag in her mouth. She rolled this way and that, not being tied to the headboard. Noodlum only had one free hand, and that held the knife, so he stuck her in the back. He tore through her shirt savagely from stem to stern, cutting through her bra hooks, revealing her entire back.

In the same calm, southern accent, he drawled, “See, normally we like to sell these putas to eager buyers up north. But once in a while, we see there is one who is just. Not. Going to play along. In this case, we—”

And he stabbed her right through her ribcage.

“Oh, God!” cried Toby, standing up from his chair so fast it knocked it over. Hands up surrendering, he backed away. “Make this stop! Is this really happening?”