back and forth like it was on a pulley. “I promise. I swear that, Mr. Hofer . . .”
“You swear . . .” Vance tightened his grip around the lead pipe, the muscles in his wide forearms twitching. “Son, we both know that’s a damn lie. And lying won’t be the thing to help you now. But here’s a bit of the truth. I lied as well. You’re gonna have to pay for what you’ve done. Everyone is. Everyone up and down the line. Till I find where it came from. No way around that. That’s just where it stands, son.”
Wayne was trembling now, barely able to garble words back. “What I’ve done? What have I done? ”
“All those lives you stole, son. The girl and her baby.” Vance stared at him. “My Amanda too.”
“No . . .” Now the boy was squirming and sobbing, tiring himself out twisting all over the beam. Every time he jerked his legs, the rope tightened around his neck. “I didn’t do anything to them. I didn’t give her any drugs! I swear . . .”
Vance went over to the black bag he had placed on the chair. “Son, we can do this two ways, and I’m afraid you’re not gonna like either of ’em, but one surely more than the other. But I think we both know by the time I walk out that door”—Vance opened the bag—“it’s gonna be with those names.”
“ There are no names! You hear me, Mr. Hofer, there are no names!”
It was still dark and Wayne could barely see. He just heard things from wherever Vance was moving around. Things that made him scared. Like a sharp hiss—followed by the sweet smell of gas, propane, and then a whoosh, which sent an electrical current of fear jerking through his upended body.
He shat down his pants.
Then Wayne looked up and saw the blue flame from a welding torch in Vance’s hand, coming closer to him.
“Listen, please, Mr. Hofer, please . . . Listen! ” he screamed. Suddenly his answers changed, and he began stammering. “These aren’t like regular folk. They’re not from around here. They’re truly bad people. I can’t give you their names. I can’t! They’ll kill me.”
To which Vance replied, chuckling, “What do you think I’m doing, son, just playing around?” He adjusted the flame to high and brought it close to Wayne.
“Now, you can stay up there, whimpering like a child, long as you like. Trust me, I’ve got all night. But whimpering ain’t gonna help you in this situation. I want to hear you talking names, son. Otherwise . . .”
Wayne’s eyes bulged as the flame came close, darting back and forth. “ I didn’t do anything to them! I swear. I didn’t.” The heat was close to his face. He began to sob. “I didn’t!”
“Well, that’s just where you’re wrong, son. Where you and I disagree.”
Vance grabbed one of Wayne’s bare feet and put the blue flame against his sole, the boy’s skin sizzling and his leg kicking around like a half-killed bass and a shriek coming out of him that might have been heard in Lowndes County.
“Please, Mr. Hofer, please . . .”
“Where you got the Oxy from that you fed my daughter? You hear me? I can make this last forever, son, or I can make it quick. Either way, by the time I leave, I’m going to have what I want.”
He placed the blue flame on Wayne’s foot again, the kid jerking and crying and howling bloody hell. And a stink going up. “ Names, son . . . It’s only going to get worse. I think you must be hearing me now. No one’s leaving here without those names.”
Chapter Eighteen
H e got them. Names.
Though it took longer than he’d liked—Wayne thrashing and screaming how these were bad people and they’d come and kill him, which seemed to suggest he didn’t fully appreciate what was happening to him right now.
The lad was passed out now. Still. The whimpering had stopped, though his feet smelled like meat on a spit and were puffed up bloody ugly, swollen, and blistered and blue.
Hell, they wouldn’t be much good to him now anyway.
Vance
“You swear . . .” Vance tightened his grip around the lead pipe, the muscles in his wide forearms twitching. “Son, we both know that’s a damn lie. And lying won’t be the thing to help you now. But here’s a bit of the truth. I lied as well. You’re gonna have to pay for what you’ve done. Everyone is. Everyone up and down the line. Till I find where it came from. No way around that. That’s just where it stands, son.”
Wayne was trembling now, barely able to garble words back. “What I’ve done? What have I done? ”
“All those lives you stole, son. The girl and her baby.” Vance stared at him. “My Amanda too.”
“No . . .” Now the boy was squirming and sobbing, tiring himself out twisting all over the beam. Every time he jerked his legs, the rope tightened around his neck. “I didn’t do anything to them. I didn’t give her any drugs! I swear . . .”
Vance went over to the black bag he had placed on the chair. “Son, we can do this two ways, and I’m afraid you’re not gonna like either of ’em, but one surely more than the other. But I think we both know by the time I walk out that door”—Vance opened the bag—“it’s gonna be with those names.”
“ There are no names! You hear me, Mr. Hofer, there are no names!”
It was still dark and Wayne could barely see. He just heard things from wherever Vance was moving around. Things that made him scared. Like a sharp hiss—followed by the sweet smell of gas, propane, and then a whoosh, which sent an electrical current of fear jerking through his upended body.
He shat down his pants.
Then Wayne looked up and saw the blue flame from a welding torch in Vance’s hand, coming closer to him.
“Listen, please, Mr. Hofer, please . . . Listen! ” he screamed. Suddenly his answers changed, and he began stammering. “These aren’t like regular folk. They’re not from around here. They’re truly bad people. I can’t give you their names. I can’t! They’ll kill me.”
To which Vance replied, chuckling, “What do you think I’m doing, son, just playing around?” He adjusted the flame to high and brought it close to Wayne.
“Now, you can stay up there, whimpering like a child, long as you like. Trust me, I’ve got all night. But whimpering ain’t gonna help you in this situation. I want to hear you talking names, son. Otherwise . . .”
Wayne’s eyes bulged as the flame came close, darting back and forth. “ I didn’t do anything to them! I swear. I didn’t.” The heat was close to his face. He began to sob. “I didn’t!”
“Well, that’s just where you’re wrong, son. Where you and I disagree.”
Vance grabbed one of Wayne’s bare feet and put the blue flame against his sole, the boy’s skin sizzling and his leg kicking around like a half-killed bass and a shriek coming out of him that might have been heard in Lowndes County.
“Please, Mr. Hofer, please . . .”
“Where you got the Oxy from that you fed my daughter? You hear me? I can make this last forever, son, or I can make it quick. Either way, by the time I leave, I’m going to have what I want.”
He placed the blue flame on Wayne’s foot again, the kid jerking and crying and howling bloody hell. And a stink going up. “ Names, son . . . It’s only going to get worse. I think you must be hearing me now. No one’s leaving here without those names.”
Chapter Eighteen
H e got them. Names.
Though it took longer than he’d liked—Wayne thrashing and screaming how these were bad people and they’d come and kill him, which seemed to suggest he didn’t fully appreciate what was happening to him right now.
The lad was passed out now. Still. The whimpering had stopped, though his feet smelled like meat on a spit and were puffed up bloody ugly, swollen, and blistered and blue.
Hell, they wouldn’t be much good to him now anyway.
Vance
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