seemed to be. At other times, he seemed exceptionally rational, like when he insisted I give him access to the files of specific agents in our field office.”
“Did you?”
“I couldn’t have if I wanted to, but for some reason he was convinced I was lying about that.”
“Was he trying to get specific information or just fishing for information to help him avoid getting caught in their web?”
“I was never sure. Caudillo prided himself on answering to no man—and definitely not to a woman.”
“Did he let you use the internet?”
“Never. The only time I was ever allowed to leave my quarters was when he was with me. As he reminded me often, I was completely at his mercy. My life existed for his pleasure and purposes.”
“What were your living quarters like?”
“Elegant, as if I were a guest in his mansion. The closet was filled with revealing gowns that looked like something whores in the Middle Ages might have worn. Caudillo brought them back from his many trips. He presented them like they were valuable gifts. Bras and panties were not to be worn at all when he was in the house.
“The bathroom was stocked with bath oils and perfumes and baskets of makeup that I was expected to wear every day in case he decided to pay me a visit.”
“And if you didn’t?”
“Then I participated in a forced period of fasting, usually lasting at least three days, to cleanse my heart and body.”
“But he never touched you sexually?”
Emma sucked in her breath as the images infiltrated her mind. Even thousands of miles away from him, she grew nauseous.
“You don’t have to answer that,” Damien said, evidently sensing her growing discomfort.
But saying it out loud would hopefully dispel some of the power it held over her. “Like I told you, we never had sex. He claimed he was withholding it from me due to his disgust at my unseemly reaction to his first attempt. Who knew vomit could be such a blessing?”
“But he did touch you?”
“He made me sit on his lap while he told me what he referred to as ‘stories’ to make me understand him.”
Damien rolled his eyes.
“Exactly, as if I didn’t already understand more about him than I ever wanted to know.”
She hesitated again. The rest of what she had to say was the torturous part, the words that had fueled a hundred nightmares almost as gruesome as tonight’s.
“The stories always began with his childhood. The beatings he received at the hands of his father. The cruel and inhumane treatment from his stepmother. The nights he’d plotted killing them both, always culminating with the way he’d eventually cut their hearts from their chests and fed them to their dogs before disposing of their mangled bodies.”
“Did you believe him?”
“I did. The distortions in his face said it all. But he didn’t stop there. He went on to tell me about other women he’d kidnapped, though he never used that word. He spoke of them as guests. He’d tell me how he pampered them but it was never enough, so eventually he’d had to kill them. He didn’t spare the details of those murders, either.”
“Proof that you were being held by a psychopath and insurance that you’d obey his every order.”
“I’m sure that was his purpose. Instead it only made me more determined than ever to get away from him.”
“How many women were there when you escaped?”
“Just me.”
“And when you arrived?”
“There were three of us. The first one disappeared almost immediately. Caudillo told me she’d drowned while trying to escape. I only saw the second woman a couple of times. She seemed sickly, pale and anorexic thin. I think he may have literally starved her to death.”
“Thank God you escaped.”
“It was only by chance.”
“How did it happen?”
“Caudillo was away from the island. I heard gunfire, and the noise that followed suggested chaos. I screamed. An armed man that I’d never seen before burst through my door, glanced my way and then left. When I peeked out the
“Did you?”
“I couldn’t have if I wanted to, but for some reason he was convinced I was lying about that.”
“Was he trying to get specific information or just fishing for information to help him avoid getting caught in their web?”
“I was never sure. Caudillo prided himself on answering to no man—and definitely not to a woman.”
“Did he let you use the internet?”
“Never. The only time I was ever allowed to leave my quarters was when he was with me. As he reminded me often, I was completely at his mercy. My life existed for his pleasure and purposes.”
“What were your living quarters like?”
“Elegant, as if I were a guest in his mansion. The closet was filled with revealing gowns that looked like something whores in the Middle Ages might have worn. Caudillo brought them back from his many trips. He presented them like they were valuable gifts. Bras and panties were not to be worn at all when he was in the house.
“The bathroom was stocked with bath oils and perfumes and baskets of makeup that I was expected to wear every day in case he decided to pay me a visit.”
“And if you didn’t?”
“Then I participated in a forced period of fasting, usually lasting at least three days, to cleanse my heart and body.”
“But he never touched you sexually?”
Emma sucked in her breath as the images infiltrated her mind. Even thousands of miles away from him, she grew nauseous.
“You don’t have to answer that,” Damien said, evidently sensing her growing discomfort.
But saying it out loud would hopefully dispel some of the power it held over her. “Like I told you, we never had sex. He claimed he was withholding it from me due to his disgust at my unseemly reaction to his first attempt. Who knew vomit could be such a blessing?”
“But he did touch you?”
“He made me sit on his lap while he told me what he referred to as ‘stories’ to make me understand him.”
Damien rolled his eyes.
“Exactly, as if I didn’t already understand more about him than I ever wanted to know.”
She hesitated again. The rest of what she had to say was the torturous part, the words that had fueled a hundred nightmares almost as gruesome as tonight’s.
“The stories always began with his childhood. The beatings he received at the hands of his father. The cruel and inhumane treatment from his stepmother. The nights he’d plotted killing them both, always culminating with the way he’d eventually cut their hearts from their chests and fed them to their dogs before disposing of their mangled bodies.”
“Did you believe him?”
“I did. The distortions in his face said it all. But he didn’t stop there. He went on to tell me about other women he’d kidnapped, though he never used that word. He spoke of them as guests. He’d tell me how he pampered them but it was never enough, so eventually he’d had to kill them. He didn’t spare the details of those murders, either.”
“Proof that you were being held by a psychopath and insurance that you’d obey his every order.”
“I’m sure that was his purpose. Instead it only made me more determined than ever to get away from him.”
“How many women were there when you escaped?”
“Just me.”
“And when you arrived?”
“There were three of us. The first one disappeared almost immediately. Caudillo told me she’d drowned while trying to escape. I only saw the second woman a couple of times. She seemed sickly, pale and anorexic thin. I think he may have literally starved her to death.”
“Thank God you escaped.”
“It was only by chance.”
“How did it happen?”
“Caudillo was away from the island. I heard gunfire, and the noise that followed suggested chaos. I screamed. An armed man that I’d never seen before burst through my door, glanced my way and then left. When I peeked out the
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