Father of Fear by Ethan Cross

purchased at hardcore sex shops and meant to be placed above one’s bed. White didn’t want her to miss a single exquisite moment of what was to come. The spectators for the camera show might have been the husband and the police, but Julie was also part of the audience. In fact, she had the best seat in the house.
    She had just started to wake up and fight against her bonds. He could smell her fear, and it was glorious. Her final death throes would make for a wonderful mask—another of his passions.
    His father had been a renowned mask maker in New Orleans. He had tried to pass his trade onto his son, but Thomas had never truly shown an interest. He had absorbed the knowledge, but he hadn’t invested the hours necessary to master the craft. At least, not until later in his life.
    Then he had realized that the medium was perfect for capturing a person’s final moments. Not just the pain of their death, but the fear. He could, of course, review the videos. But the masks were different. He could reach out and feel them. It brought him back to the moment. He could taste their fear over and over again, and wearing the grotesque masks of death heightened the fear of the next victim. It was as though the fear grew and spread and expanded from person to person like a cancer of the soul that could be transferred from victim to victim.
    He approached Julie Dunham wearing the mask of another woman about her age. He had forgotten the woman’s name, but not her fear. Julie cowered and shrieked and wet herself, the urine drizzling down onto the plastic sheet. It was glorious. White wanted to clap and giggle like a child, but instead, he said, “Are you afraid to die, Julie?”
    “Please, I’ll—”
    He hushed her with a finger to the lips. “I’ve heard it all, my dear. Nothing can save you now. Don’t waste your final moments blubbering.”
    He circled the operating table as he spoke, like a shark sensing blood in the water. “I’ve applied a local anesthetic to your limbs, and so you should feel a minimal amount of pain considering what’s about to be done to you. I’m going to slice off each of your fingers. Then your hands. Don’t worry—I’ll cauterize the wounds, so that you don’t bleed out too quickly. Then I’ll start with your feet and toes and repeat the procedure. When we’re done with that, I’ll decide whether or not I want to force you to live like that or end your suffering and cut off your head.”
    Terror spread across Julie’s beautiful features, and she screamed at the top of her lungs. She called for help, but there was no one to hear her. White drank in her fear and then began his work.

Chapter Twenty-Five

    In order for their ruse to be successful, Brad Dunham needed to sell his role as well. After pretending to kill the target, he ran from the dealership, jumped into his truck, and raced out of the lot. He immediately returned home and waited for contact from the abductor. In the past cases where the target had been killed, the person or the police had received a call, telling them where to find the person’s loved ones.
    Two FBI agents were already waiting in the house when he returned home, with more police officers ready to move in from down the street. When the abductor called, they would trace the call back and track the madman down.
    At least, that was the plan.
    But it seemed to Brad that the call should have come in hours ago. What was taking the abductor so long to release his family? He had asked the agents if everything had gone well at the hospital, but they had told him to focus on his end of things.
    He had nearly worn a hole in the floor from pacing by the time the phone rang. He waited for the agents to give him the go-ahead, then he answered. “Hello?”
    “Do you think that I’m a fool, Mr. Dunham?”
    “No, I—”
    “It was a rhetorical question. I’m not a fool. I can’t be cheated. I can’t be tricked. I am five steps ahead of your friends in the FBI. I assume