Diagnosis-Revenge-- 3
Steve's return to consciousness was not a welcome one, and he tried to ignore the fiery agony of his back. He heard voices and didn't want to draw attention to himself so he stayed as he was, hoping his father had been able to understand his message. Steve knew Damian and his gang members were dangerous and sooner or later they would kill him, but so far they seemed to enjoy taunting his father.
"Playing dead don't work here, Lieutenant, Sloan…"
Steve heard the voice close to his ear and cried out when Damian slapped his back open handedly. Laughter echoed through the abandoned apartment, and Steve gritted his teeth as his tormentor ran his fingers down the raw, ravaged flesh. His body trembled convulsively as he opened his eyes and stared hard at his tormentor.
"Well, Lieutenant, it seems your father brought the police into this and I'm sure he was warned not to do that…"
"Dad's not stu…stupid," Steve ground out.
"I believe he is or else he doesn't care what happens to you. Perhaps he needs to see you suffer even more," Damian said, smiling as he motioned for his girlfriend.
Steve watched as the young woman handed the gang leader a weapon and swallowed several times as Damian placed it against his throat. Sloan felt a trickle of blood as the tip penetrated his skin and fought to keep from swallowing.
"I know some people believe we all have a third eye, Lieutenant, so maybe your father would enjoy seeing yours loud and clear," Ryan spat. "Your father killed one of ours, Lieutenant, and he must pay for that."
"Dad didn't kill anyone," Steve managed, crying out as someone slapped his damaged back and caused him to jerk against his bonds. Fingers grabbed his chin and pinched his face until he was staring into the coldest eyes he'd ever seen in his life. Damian's fingers tightened as he slid them down the strong neck and squeezed until he cut off his captive's air.
"You're father is a murderer! He killed Brian and we are going to see that justice is done! He took one of ours and we are returning the favor…an eye for an eye, Lieutenant Sloan!" Damian released his hold and stood back, holding the knife as if it was a thing of worship. "This belonged to Brian Johnson, Lieutenant, and I think it only fitting that it be used to make you and your father suffer!"
Steve watched as the others rallied around Damian, their eyes dangerous, their mouths set in thin lines that spoke of anger. He watched as the flickering candles flickered off the blade and knew the red coloring at the tip was his blood. He held his body rigid as Damian moved toward him and placed the point against his side, slashing downward and sending spasms of pain through his body. His world erupted in agony as Damian passed the blade to his girlfriend and allowed her to make the next cut on his body. The blade sank into his right shoulder, but she stopped short of driving it in too deeply.
Steve had no idea how long this went on, but he felt the blade slash at him twice more before allowing the darkness to claim him once more.
Damian was please to see the marks his gang had made, but he also knew if he wanted Mark Sloan to suffer they would need to keep the cop alive. "Tati, tend his wounds and make sure he doesn't bleed out!"
"Should I use the whiskey?" Tatiana asked with a smile.
"Not the good stuff," Damian said and tossed her a bottle of cheap whiskey they'd stolen from a homeless bum whose body was now decaying in a sewer near the north end of the city.
Tatiana quickly poured whiskey over the raw wounds, dousing the knife wounds and pouring it down their victim's back, relishing the cries her ministrations tore from the semi conscious cop.
"Ah, Hell, Tati, you woke him up," Tito said and snapped several pictures, making sure none of the gang was in them.
"Damn, sorry, Tito, but the cop seems to be uncomfortable," Tatiana told him and placed her fingers beneath Steve's chin, lifting until she was looking into his eyes. "I am taking good care of you, Lieutenant; don't you think you should thank me?"
Steve tried to focus, but the face and the words made little sense to him as whatever she'd poured on his wounds burned like hellfire. He felt her fingers on his chin, and his eyes began to close, but something soft brushed against his lips and he smelled the sickly sweet smell of stale liquor. He snapped his head forward and heard a scream, one that was mirrored by his own when a blow landed on his lower back.
"He broke my nose, Damian!" Tatiana cried as blood flowed onto her hands and between her fingers.
"It ain't broken, Tati," Damian assured her once the bleeding stopped.
"He should pay for hurting me," the young woman said.
"He will," the gang leader said of the unconscious cop as he held his sobbing girlfriend. "You'll get your chance when he wakes up again."
Tatiana stared at the cop who'd caused her pain and smiled at the thought of making him suffer even more. She let Damian hold her and ran her fingers along the blade of the knife he still held in his hand. Steve Sloan would pay dearly for what he'd done to her, of that she was certain.
DMDMDMDMDMDM
Walter Newman watched as Mark Sloan, Jesse Travis, and Amanda Bentley tried to decipher what Steve was saying, but they were not trained to read lips and until Connie Evans showed up it would only be conjecture. The sound of a car pulling to a stop outside had them all on their feet as he pulled the main door open and spotted the female psychiatrist hurrying toward him. Evans worked primarily with the deaf and was well trained at lip-reading. She'd worked with the police on several cases and knew Steve Sloan personally.
"Walter, has there been any news?"
"Nothing yet, Connie," Newman answered and motioned her inside. "Dr. Sloan, I'd like you to meet Dr. Constance Evans."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Sloan, I just wish it was under better circumstances," Evans said, shaking the older man's hand.
"So do I, Dr. Evans," Mark agreed and motioned to Amanda and Jesse. "This is Dr. Jesse Travis and Dr. Amanda Bentley…they are close family friends."
"Pleased to meet you both, now why don't we take a look at the video and see if Steve is trying to give you a message, Dr. Sloan," Evans said and followed Mark into the living room.
Mark turned on the TV and set the VCR to play the tape. His heart beat increased as he watched his son's suffering and he watched the police specialist closely as she got her first glimpse of Steve Sloan.
"Oh, God, Steve," she whispered, her heart in her throat as she looked at the man she'd come to admire since first meeting him six months ago. Unbeknownst to anyone else they'd been seeing each other and she knew she could easily fall in love with the handsome lieutenant, but neither was ready for a serious relationship.
"Dr. Evans, are you okay?" Jesse asked. He'd been watching the beautiful brunette whose eyes were the deepest shade of green he'd ever seen. She looked as if she worked out and he sensed there was something more to her than met the eye.
"I'm fine…it's just hard to believe people can be so cruel," Evans told them.
"Okay, this is the spot we need you to watch," Newman said and regretted not having warned her of the damage done to Steve Sloan. He'd known she was seeing Steve, but had not said anything to either of them because he considered it none of his business what they did off the job. Constance Evans wasn't a police officer and Steve had every right to see her if he wanted to.
Evans leaned forward and watched the screen closely as the captive's lips began to move. She had them replay it several times until she was sure she had it right. "Okay, he's saying El Diablo," she told them.
"El Diablo," Bentley said, shocked as she looked at Mark Sloan. She'd heard stories of the gang and their cruelty, but knew very little about them except what Steve had told them at BBQ Bobs.
"Sonofabi…" Newman cut off the expletive before looking at Mark Sloan. "Dr. Sloan, I don't know why El Diablo has singled you out, but Steve's been working on the case for several months. The gang has several hangouts, but every time we get close they disappear and turn up somewhere else. Steve's found several places where they've holed up, but we seem to be one step behind them every time."
"Steve talked about El Diablo," Jesse said. "He was angry that people weren't willing to speak up, yet they expected the police to protect them if the gang singled them out."
"I don't know a cop who isn't angry when the public decides it only goes one way," Newman said. "We know the names of the gang leader and several of his followers, but like I said they disappear every damn time we get close!"
"If El Diablo has Steve because he's a cop then why are they going after Mark?" Amanda asked.
"Dr. Sloan, are you sure you haven't had a run in with them?" Newman asked.
"Not that I know of…in the last few weeks we've had a series of emergencies involving young people. The most recent was tonight," Sloan answered and looked at the clock, surprised to see nearly six hours had passed since he'd received the first call.
"The kid from the liquor store," Newman stated.
"Yes, he never made it," Sloan told him.
"I saw the report, but never had a chance to go over it," Newman said. "Kids name was Johnson?"
"Brian Johnson…he was 17 years old," Mark answered.
"He was just a kid," Evans observed.
"They seem to be getting younger each day," Jesse offered.
"Brian Johnson," Newman repeated and frowned. "I know I've heard hat name before."
"Maybe he had a record, but his parents said this was the first time he'd done anything like this," Sloan said.
"Could be…I'll look into it when I get back to the station," Newman assured them.
"Can I get copies of the files Steve was working on concerning El Diablo?" the older physician asked. He'd helped Steve on several cases and had a bit of a reputation at the station. Steve's co-workers knew who he was and admired his instincts and had come to him, Amanda, and Jesse for help on a particularly baffling case. They'd actually helped solve a number of cases including the Phillips fiasco that had nearly killed both him and Steve.
"I'll have them sent over," Newman promised and stood up.
"Dr. Sloan, if there's anything I can do to help please don't hesitate to ask," Evans told the worried man and found herself being scrutinized by the sad eyes.
"Please stay, Dr. Evans," Mark said and walked Newman to the door. "Does she know Steve well?"
"I'm not sure, but the rumor mill has it they've been seeing each other for a couple of weeks," Newman answered. "Mark, I'm leaving two officers outside and Detective Miller will stick around in case they call back."
"Thank you, Captain."
"Steve's a good man and I can tell you every available man will be looking for him and the gang."
Mark nodded and closed the door before returning to the living room and taking a seat next to Amanda Bentley. He was about to speak, but was cut off when Evans opened up to him.
"Dr. Sloan, I don't know if Steve talked to you about me, but we've been seeing each other for a couple of weeks now," she told them.
"I knew he was seeing someone, but he never said anything," Mark said.
"I asked him not to say anything until I was sure of myself, Dr. Sloan…"
"Please, call me Mark."
"Thank you, Dr…thank you Mark. Please call me Connie," the psychiatrist said. "If there's anything I can do to help find Steve I will."
"We'd welcome any help," Mark told her, turning when the doorbell rang and one of the officers entered.
"Dr. Sloan, this was left on the wharf."
"Thanks, Danny," Mark said and took the plain manila envelope. His name was written in sloppy lettering across the front of the envelope. His hand shook visibly as he realized there were smudges that looked like dried blood underneath his name.
"Mark…"
"I'm okay, Amanda," Sloan said and found the strength he needed to carefully open the envelope. He knew they might find fingerprints on it and hoped they hadn't already been compromised. He tilted it on its side and let the Polaroid shots fall onto the table. They landed face down and he looked at Amanda as she handed him a set of tweezers. He lifted the first one and turned it, fighting hard to keep his emotions in check when he saw the blood on his son's body. There were six shots in all and each one showed the devastation his son had already suffered.
Mark silently cursed as he stood up and walked to the door. It felt as if the air had suddenly disappeared and he gasped as he stepped outside and watched the sun slowly peek above the horizon. "I'm sorry, Steve…God help me I'm so sorry."
TBC