False Regret: Pikorua - Book 1 (27 page)

Time
was hard to judge, but I figured at least a day had passed. My mind had always
been cruel, and this was no exception. I imagined rats, or spiders, or snakes,
in my proximity, but in reality, there was nothing in the room with me but my
imagination. I questioned if I was even alive. Maybe they had killed me and
this was my hell. I supposed I deserved it.

Exhausted
and chilled beyond hope of ever being warm again, I lay prone on the cold
cement. The spaced reeked of the urine I’d left in the corner. There had been
no one to answer my pleas for help.  I heard the buzz of an old light bulb as
it sprang to life above me. It was dim, but the luminosity hurt my eyes after
being in the oppressive blackness for so long. The man from the cabin stood
over me, the one who had hit Cade. His Salt-and-pepper gray hair cut short in a
flat-top, shone under the illumination of the globe. He said nothing, just
reached down and dragged me to my feet. I stumbled along in the man’s tight
grip and wondered why he had to be so rough; it wasn’t like I could escape. 
There would be no Donny to keep me safe this time.

He
pushed me through the heavy metal door, and I tripped, falling onto bare knees,
the concrete ripping my skin. It reminded me of the night I’d jumped from my
father’s car to reach Cade at the hospital. The man grabbed my hair and brought
me back to a stance, scaring the memory away, only to shove me down into a high
backed wooden chair. I faced a table with an empty seat behind it. Salt-and-pepper
man tied my arms to the seat and then my ankles. The ropes were too tight, and
the rigging tore into my flesh with no movement at all, so there was no point
in struggling; I would just hurt myself more.

The
man from the car appeared and sat in the chair across the table from me. “Hello
again, Ellia,” he said with a chuckle. I didn’t respond.  If I couldn’t escape,
which I saw little chance of doing, I hoped they would kill me fast and not
make me suffer.  “So you mentioned to my men you know where your father hid the
money.”

“That
was before you killed the person I asked you not to hurt. I don’t think I have
anything to say to you,” I said.

“That’s
all right. I’m aware you are lying. You serve a singular purpose here, and that
is to help persuade your father to give us the information we need. Bring in
Chief Meyers so we may all have a chat.”

My
dad came through the door escorted by two large men. His face was black and
blue, one eye swollen nearly shut, and crusted blood hung on the corners of his
mouth. It seemed his injuries extended beyond the face as he hobbled in, his expression
screwed up in an anguished grimace.

“Look
at this sweet family reunion,” said the man I referred to in my mind as the
Arab, even though that was not really accurate. “Hello again, Chief Meyers, are
you happy to see we brought your daughter in to join the fun? We found her
shacking up with Zachariah Cantrell’s boy, you know, the one I thought was dead
for the last ten years. Were you aware he became an FBI agent? Ironic that you
covered up his death just so he could come after all of us with the law on his
side. You have disappointed me in every way possible, Bradley.”

My
father’s mouth hung open, as if he wanted to say something as the surprise
registered on his face, but he remained quiet. “I guess you figured no thieving
Cantrell would ever be a cop, huh? Let’s hope my men took care of that little
problem, this time. It feels good to know the last of that clan is wiped from
the earth. My father can rest easy.”

My
dad sat stone faced, not saying a word, letting the man I knew was Camerson, do
all the talking.  He looked over at me. “Ellia, there is a lot more at stake
here than money, or we wouldn’t be so diligently trying to pry open your
father’s lips. This could be an issue of national security if we don’t recover
our merchandise. I am sure Cantrell explained all this. The FBI wants your
father to talk as much as we do, and I imagine several Bureau heads will roll
if the items are not recovered. Bradley is such a popular guy, aren’t you, Chief?”
Camerson chuckled again, and I didn’t know what he found so amusing.

“Cases
of high tech military weapons have gone missing, and Bradley claims to have no
idea where they might have disappeared. You can imagine the back lash if these
guns ended up in the hands of Islamic terrorists.  Our organization obtained
these arms, not for use against our own people, but for a group of wealthy
businessmen in Eastern Europe. These men are unhappy they did not receive what
they purchased. Their interrogation experts have traveled a long way to speak
to your father. They have specialized training in the art of information
extraction, and when we are done, loose lips will prevail.” He paused a moment,
I was sure for dramatic effect, as he turned to address my dad. “Where would
you like to start, Bradley, ol’ buddy? I am hoping you say your daughter
because my boys are itching to get at her.”

My
father made no eye contact with anyone and refused to say a single word. I
didn’t have time to ponder what he was thinking, though, as a cold touch to the
back of my neck, sent my head screaming in agony and locked up all my muscles. My
bladder emptied as the electricity flowed through my body, scrambling every
electrical impulse in my brain. When the man removed the stun gun from my skin,
I went limp in the chair. I felt like I’d just run three consecutive marathons.
Just as my mind regained full awareness, Salt-and-pepper did it again, and I
flopped around, my wrists and ankles not budging from their confines. My
flailing tipped the chair over sideways. The side of my face hit the concrete,
but the pain stopped. My strength drained away, leaving me flaccid. Drool ran
from my mouth and pooled on the floor as my muscles continued to twitch.

“Well
Bradley, do you have anything to say yet?” he asked. I looked up at my dad, but
he was still staring at the far wall, not even acknowledging me.

“Dad,”
I croaked. “Please, just give them what they want.” I begged as the tears mixed
with my saliva and my teeth chattered.

Salt-and-pepper’s
hand was in my hair, and he yanked me up with brutal force, setting the chair
upright again. I yelped liked a whipped dog. He opened a folded black leather
pouch and displayed it on the table in front of me. Inside was an array of
instruments. I screamed as unimaginable fear seized me. “Please Dad, oh God, please
tell them.” I struggled in my bondage to get away from the macabre tools. Salt-and-pepper
took out a set of what appeared to be pliers and then grabbed my hand. My
fingers, which I’d never given much thought to before, were about to suffer a
horrible fate. “Please don’t,” I begged the heartless man. “Please don’t do
that.”

He
didn’t respond, but held my pinkie finger, first, and then tilted his head as
if he was considering something. “You have nice hand,” he said before releasing
my finger and putting the plier things back. He retrieved another instrument.
“We start here—maybe save your fingers, eh?”  He stuck the device on the tip of
my smallest digit, and before I could comprehend what he was doing, pain seared
through my hand as he ripped the entire fingernail out of the nail-bed and held
it up to examine. “I enjoy natural nails. So much prettier than fake.” I screamed,
the pain so horrific, I wanted to die. He tore out one more before I passed
out, my bloody fingertips dripping on the floor.

When
I came to, I was hanging by my wrists from a metal rod, resembling a slab of
raw meat. Only my bra and underwear covered my flesh. Salt-and-pepper smiled at
me, as if he was glad I would be conscious for whatever he intended for me. He
had a long leather whip in his hand, and he snapped it across my back, the pain
intense and sharp. The welt swelled at once. Salt-and-pepper continued his
assault with three more lashes over my stomach and legs.

“What
the fuck is wrong with you?” I screamed at my father. “How can you let them do
this? Dad, please tell them …” The snap of the whip on my chest stole the rest
of my words. I looked at Salt-and-pepper and said through clenched teeth. “This
is pointless and sick. Torture him for God’s sake. I have nothing to do with this,
and he doesn’t care about me, so beating me will not gain you a damn thing, you
despicable fucker. Just kill me or let me go; take out your sadistic needs on him!”
Salt-and-pepper punched me in the face, and the blood that flew from it, landed
on my father, who didn’t seem to be aware. I spit red saliva on the floor as my
mind scrambled for a way to reach my dad. “Let me talk to him, please, by
myself.”

Camerson,
who I had not realized was still in the room, said, “I see no harm in that. Cut
her down, and we’ll give them some alone time.” Salt-and-pepper reached up and
released my hands, sending me to the floor where I landed on the cold cement,
twisting my ankle. He put me back in the chair and tied me up again.  The
Germanic beast took his leave with Camerson, and I was left with the heartless
being I called my father.

“Look
at me, Dad,” I said as he stared past me. “Look at me and acknowledge me!” I
screamed. When he did, it was as if recognition dawned on him for the first
time.  “Why are you letting them do this? Do you hate me that much? Does money
mean more than your own flesh and blood? Where are mom and Sam? Are they dead?”

“Ellia,”
he said his voice hoarse. “I don’t have the cash or the guns, so there is
nothing to tell them.”

“Bullshit,
Dad—I am begging you.”

“At
first, I lied, but they found out it was a ruse. After Dacks died in the
accident and you disappeared, the FBI rescued your mom and Sam. Camerson got me
out of there before they could save me, too. Sam wasn’t in good shape when I
last saw him, they had cut his fingers off and he was ill with infection. I’ve heard
nothing since then.” He cried then. “I don’t know how to help you, baby girl. It
kills me to watch them hurt my family, and I keep hoping the FBI will find us
like they did your mom and Sam. Even if I end up dead or in prison, at least
this will be over for you, honey. Everything they said about me is true--I am a
bad person. I’ve done evil things for money and power, but I always tried to keep
you and Sam away from it all. The house you guys came to see me at was not my
real home. I bought it under a false name so you would be safe when you visited.
You thought I didn’t care enough to have you around much, but that was not the
case. My whole life I have tried to shield and safeguard you from my dirty
business.”

“Where
are the guns, Dad? How does a person lose something like that?” I asked again,
not giving a shit what he claimed.

“I
had them; that part is true, and I intended to run off with both. I went to the
Caribbean, and that’s where I was hiding all that time. I had the weapons in a
warehouse here in Detroit, and I planned to sell them again to make an even
bigger profit. But they disappeared, and so did my entire off shore account.
Someone stole it all from me, and I don’t know who to blame. I’ve told Camerson
the truth a million times, but he won’t stop. I am as helpless as you,
sweetheart.” Something about his eyes warned me not to trust him.

“Why
did you do all this, Dad? Why did you tell me Cade was dead? I don’t understand
how you can hurt us all so much.” I asked, wanting answers before we it was too
late.

“When
I joined the force, my intentions were good. My first big assignment was to
bring down Zachariah Cantrell and his whole illegal operation, but I realized
how much money these guys were making. My cop salary was a joke. They offered
me a cut for my protection. I took it, and then I approached Camerson, offering
the same deal. I am sure the FBI filled you in on all of this.”

“Who
targeted Cade, Dad, was it Camerson or was it you?”

“To
gain your trust, Ellia, I will tell you the truth. I would’ve killed Cade right
along with his mother if he’d been home the night I shot her. But he wasn’t
there, and I never went looking for him. He was an innocent kid of little
interest.  Killing Zachariah’s family was not my personal campaign, anyway. I only
did it to protect my monetary interests. It was Camerson who couldn’t let the
whole thing go after Zach executed his father in retaliation. He found out
Zach’s son was back in Detroit, so he put the hit out on him. The kid wasn’t
important enough for Camerson to waste resources locating, but since he happened
to be in town, he couldn’t resist wiping out the last of Zach’s kin. I won’t
lie and say I didn’t know it was happening because I did. Why do you think I
was so close to the scene that night? My job was to make sure I wrote it up as
a random act of violence. Camerson’s men camped out in the hospital parking lot,
waiting for the opportunity to finish Cantrell off if he survived the shooting.
The Blackballers, through Zachariah, offered me a generous sum of money to make
sure Camerson thought Cantrell was dead. I took the cash, and we hatched out a
story.”

Captivated,
I forgot my pain as my father talked. “I’m sorry, Ellia. After I killed Zach’s
wife, I heard Cade went to live up north somewhere, but I didn’t know he was in
your town. What were the chances of my daughter and Zachariah’s son forming a
relationship? Slim. It wasn’t a scenario I had prepared for, that’s for sure,
so I handled it the best way I could after the shooting.  His death was the
only means to protect him from Camerson. To safeguard you we made sure you
believed it, too, and stayed away from him.  Camerson had Zach murdered in
prison right after the news of Cade’s demise circulated. The feud was over
because there was no one left.  I never knew Cade joined the Bureau, and I never
suspected the ruthless man working with Dacks was him. He turned out to be nothing
more than a gangster, just like his father, the only difference is the badge he
holds.” Cade had confessed as much, so the information was not new.