The Locust
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Criminal Intent, LO:SVU, Without a trace, or any other show mentioned here, but owe so many thanks to the people who created them. I'm making no money out of this whatsoever. Don't sue me, I have no money.
A/N: No excuses, my stupid muse found something new to work on and refused to concentrate on this one here. Thanks for the reviews. (hugs) For Blu, Bammi, and Deliriousdancer. :)
24
unknown location
Mercilessly time was passing. Goren knew that, but he had no way to measure it except his breaths or heartbeats.
Both had slowed down again. Finally he realized that nothing he could have done would have saved Allison. Maybe he should have bitten the killer's pride clean off. He probably would have bled to death.
And chained up as he and Allison were they might have starved right beside him.
Goren knew from experience that the killer did not necessarily carry the keys for the chains in his pockets. So even though he would have been able to knock him out, it was no guarantee that they would get free.
However bad the death of Allison had been, and it would probably haunt him forever, right now it rather encouraged him.
In the wake of Allison's murder he realized that he was giving Kirkpatrick such a hard time that he had to resort to extortion to make him obey. That fuelled his resistance.
But if I resist him… what might come next? He just might kidnap the next woman to torture her in order to subdue me. That's nothing I can risk.
Goren sighed.
I think I understand his scheme: I have to suffer to survive. If I'm too obedient I'll bore him and just like that I'm dead and he moves on to another victim. Eames? What a horrible thought. I can't fight too much either. First, it will wear me out and second, I might make him made enough to kill me. I can turn it any way I want, he will kill me anyway.
In the meantime I have to judge very carefully just how much resistance I can offer to keep him interested… and myself alive.
Unfortunately, finding that medium between resistance and compliance will lead me to more misery. It will maximize my suffering as much as it will prolong my life.
Altogether these were not the happiest prospects.
So he sat in his way too small prison, trying to keep his thoughts from exploring the darkest scenarios he could come up with.
In, out, in, out, in, out…
The rhythm of his breathing lulled him in a lightest of sleeps until flashing lights startled him awake again.
In the sudden brightness Goren's eyes needed a moment to adjust. As soon as he could clearly see Kirkpatrick he knew that something was definitely wrong. His features, his movement, his demeanor, they all testified to his anger. And it seemed to be more than that, he was enraged.
Goren was not interested in Kirkpatrick's problems themselves but he was under the impression that the man would possibly need an outlet… an outlet that would most likely be himself.
When Kirkpatrick turned to face him he saw the other man's eyes and knew that he was not so wrong with his assumption.
Kirkpatrick came to open the cage. He seized the chains and pulled the detective unceremoniously out of his cell.
Goren struggled to get to his feet. He hurt all over his body from the cramped position he had been forced to assume. Now he was dragged to the middle of the room, where the chain was waiting. Kirkpatrick attached it to his manacles without bothering to open the neck cuff. The chain ran over the wheel and pulled tight, preventing him effectively from stumbling.
"Do you jog?" Goren asked. "Or do you ride a bike? Swim?"
"Oh, suddenly you're interested in me? May I ask you why, Bobby?"
"A workout would be great against stress."
Kirkpatrick laughed out loud. "You're just asking because you already know that you… are going to be this workout." He opened his belt and took it out of the loops.
Out of the corner of his eyes Goren watched him taking position diagonally behind him. His breath accelerated. He knew what was coming and everything inside him wanted to deny that knowledge. A split second later the belt clapped on his back and made him cry out.
Kirkpatrick enjoyed the cry echoing from the walls. He watched Goren closely before he swung for the next blow.
With each blow Goren reared but the tight bondage hardly allowed movement so that he merely flinched. The intervals between the strokes became shorter and soon they followed in quick succession. Goren cried helplessly, tears rolling down his face. Flashbacks of his father beating him mingled with the present, the belt slapping on his back creating a weird connection to his past.
He almost did not notice that the belting stopped. Kirkpatrick appeared right in front of him. He cupped one cheek with his right hand and caressed it. Then he leaned in to the other cheek to lick up some of the tears, tasting the salt in them.
Goren choked when he felt Kirkpatrick's sperm moisten his legs.
"You think that's bad?" Kirkpatrick asked at the sight of clearly visible pain. He released the chain, only to push Goren backwards to lie on the ground where he locked the irons at very short length to a ring.
The detective froze just for an instant before he started kicking. Pain shot from his injured foot through his whole body when it collided with his attacker. Kirkpatrick managed to kneel down over him, grabbed his legs and pinned them to the ground with his weight.
No! No, no, no… it hammered into Goren's head. Don't do this! NO!
Kirkpatrick was totally unimpressed and determined as he bowed over Goren's lap and took what he desired.
Seconds seemed to freeze to eternity, before Kirkpatrick stood up.
Goren closed his legs and pulled them up to somehow protect himself. Even this proved to be a mistake. Quickly Kirkpatrick bowed and wrapped the belt around Goren's thighs, just above the knees. Kicking impossible. Then Kirkpatrick forced his captive to turn to the side and knelt behind him.
Strangled sobs escaped Goren's throat and he was trembling violently but could not help it. He was even more aware of the shackles and chains now than all the time before. To cope with the feeling of dread he desperately tried to hold on to the image he had in mind. Each time he was distracted by Kirkpatrick's actions on him, the image flickered to be replaced by concrete and iron. He concentrated harder and finally managed to manifest an illusion.
Kirkpatrick noticed his distraction. His grip tightened and his fingers dug into the buttocks. As slowly as he could he approached in search of an entrance and felt his aim harden. He smiled.
Goren knew Kirkpatrick was close. And there was nothing he could do. Suddenly the picture of Alex shattered to millions of pieces due to an inexpressible pain and he screamed out in terror.
xXx
One Police Plaza
Major Case Squad
It was very early morning and the detectives were back from the Bronx at the headquarters. Deakins would have loved to send them all to the crib, but something kept them going even though they were working, with short interruptions, for days now. They just took their places in the task room when the last member of the group entered the bullpen. Deakins stood and left the room to intercept him.
"In my office," he said and the detective followed him. There they both sat on opposite sides of the desk. Deakins rubbed his right temple. He was getting a headache.
"Stabler, I'm going to pull you from the case," Deakins declared.
"With all due respect, Sir, I don't think that that's necessary."
"Well, Detective, given the fact that you were assaulted by the suspect…"
"I have a session with Dr. Skoda scheduled this afternoon. I'll deal with what happened. Don't take me off the case now."
Stabler got up from his chair, starting to pace to the window and back. A flaming restlessness kept him going even though he clearly felt his tiredness. Of course Deakins noticed the detective's agitation and drew his own conclusion.
"I don't think that that's going to be enough," he said. "Look at you. What this perv did to you will influence everything that you'll do from now on…"
"And?" Stabler interrupted him, accompanying the bark with a dark glare.
"And we shouldn't risk the case just because of your…"
"My what?" Stabler spat. "Forgive my rudeness, sir, but I know what I'm doing. I won't risk the case! I can smell his track now and we need to keep going or we'll lose it again."
"Yes, we identified our suspect and with the evidence secured after your attack we'll nail the bastard, but how are we closer to finding him than before?"
"I don't know!" Stabler panted with frustration. "But I'll know it if I see it. C'mon, sir. Give me a chance!"
Actually Stabler knew that not even Don Cragen, his SVU captain who was like a father figure and mentor for him, would be likely to grant him his will, but he had to at least try. Anxiously he waited for captain Deakins' decision, butterflies in his stomach and horrid memories on his mind.
"Okay, now I need to examine the genital area," ME Sheldon Hawkes said once he had taken oral swabs.
If you have to, Stabler thought and felt his insides constrict with anxiety as he lay back down on the examination table.
"What did you say he did?" Hawkes asked.
"He went down on me," Stabler admitted and sensed renewed nervousness surge through his body. Gentle hands urged him to open his legs and he complied. He had asked for Hawkes, who was with Taylor's CSU team, to do the examination because he could not imagine Dr. Elizabeth Rodgers or the ME his own squad usually worked with, Dr. Melinda Warner, to take the evidence in his case. Even though he felt incredibly ashamed and humiliated by having Hawkes look at him he was even more uncomfortable with the thought of having one of the women do it.
"These bruises are not from the actual assault, right?" Hawkes just asked as he looked at the coloring skin.
"He kicked me," Stabler rasped.
"I see." Hawkes was as gentle as he could be, knowing that the detective already had to be in bad pain. He did not want to make it worse. The injuries were not grave, but the man would certainly be sore for days. "Now the rectal exam," he told him matter of factly, sure that that approach would be the best way to deal with the proud detective.
"He had no chance to rape me," Stabler protested as he already had done when he was first examined from the hospital's doctor. "He was interrupted before he could…"
"Then this part will be over with quickly," Hawkes interrupted him and waited for Stabler to turn over.
"You kept Eames on the case…" Stabler dared to say when Deakins sat in thoughtful silence, knowing that he was taking a risk by pointing that fact out.
"You're right," Deakins replied. "And I keep an eye on everyone. That's why I'm the captain." Leaning forward on the tabletop he eyed Stabler intently. "She was not the one who was attacked."
"Her partner got abducted."
"Right."
"You think I can't deal with what happened?" Stabler grumbled, sensing that he was short of losing the case.
"I don't know you well enough to judge that," Deakins said. His gaze drifted past Stabler to the door to his office and gestured the man who approached it in. "That's why I called your captain."
Great! Stabler did his best not to grunt with frustration and rolled his eyes when he spotted someone else follow Cragen. Kathy Stabler came in right behind his captain, stepped up to him and hugged him only briefly because she sensed that he tensed up when she displayed that closeness.
"You didn't need to come," Stabler said. "I thought we made that clear on the phone."
"Well, you did," she replied. "I didn't want to argue so I just grabbed some stuff and took the car."
Slowly a smile cracked his features. "I'm glad you're here," he admitted and she returned the smile.
Cragen looked first at the couple and then at Deakins as he sat down in one of the visitor's chairs. Then he turned to his former squadmate.
"What's up, Jim? You said it was urgent. Is it about Goren?"
"No, it's about Detective Stabler," Deakins replied. "It's been too long, Don. Why do we have to meet under these circumstances again?"
"I was attacked," Stabler threw in. "Captain Deakins wonders if I can further lead the investigation."
"Are you alright, Elliot?" the SVU captain asked his detective.
"Yeah," he grumbled. "Can I go back to work now?"
Suddenly Cragen became suspicious. "What happened?"
"The perv attacked me," Stabler told him. Embarrassed he looked at Kathy. "Assaulted me, sexually, or he tried to, anyway."
"Good Lord!" Kathy was stunned. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"On the phone?" he asked back incredulously. "There was nothing to tell you. He couldn't finish the act. I'm okay."
One look into his eyes and Kathy knew that there was more he was not saying. Probably he could fool the captains, but he could not fool her. But with the same look she also read his determination. He was ready to finish this fight and it was not her choice to stop him. So she remained silent.
Cragen also noticed the firm gaze, the set to the jaws and the straightening posture. His detective was royally pissed off. If he was not supposed to be the stern superior he would have grinned. He exchanged looks with Deakins. The major case captain shrugged and nodded.
"So what are we doing next?" Cragen asked.
"We were about to debrief," Stabler replied before Deakins could say anything. "Let's go."
Together with his wife, Stabler was the first who left the office but Kathy led him toward the exit.
"Be careful," she said. "I know you. You're angry now and there's nothing I could do to stop you. I just ask you to be careful, very careful."
"I will be," he promised and hugged her.
Strongly she embraced him, too, then smacked a kiss on his cheek. When she looked up at him he read in her eyes that he could not fool her.
"Yeah," she whispered, "I know that it was worse than you made it sound. You'll tell me when you're ready… I hope you find him."
"I plan to do that," he replied with a crooked grin, proud of but also a little scared of her ability to read him. "We're a good team."
Warmly Kathy smiled at him. "I know you'll find him." Then her smile changed to a smirk. "But you should do everyone a favor." She saw him frown. "Yeah, change into other clothes."
"Thanks," Stabler whispered, took the bag she had been holding all the time, hugged her quickly and turned to follow the captains to the task room.
"Okay, what do we have?" Deakins asked when they were all present.
"Allison Chalmers' throat was slit. She died last evening between the hours eight and nine, so approximately two hours elapsed before he dumped her in the Bronx." Logan rubbed his chin as he read from the autopsy report. "Rodgers found fluids, Allison was raped, orally and vaginally. Blood type is no match with our suspect…" his voice trailed off.
"It isn't?" Barek wondered. "That's odd."
"What is it?" Eames pushed, seeing Logan's scowl. "Spit it out!"
"Blood type is a match with Goren's," Logan said.
"What?!"
Eames was not the only one who was shocked. What did that mean? How had their colleague's fluids gotten on Allison Chalmers? Inside of her!?
"If he did it, he was forced," Logan exclaimed. "There's no way that… God!"
"You think he would do that?" Eames exploded. "He would never… take a woman against her will! Never! How can you say he would?"
"Did you hear what I said? He was forced," Logan defended himself.
"There's no way he would do something…"
"All he needed to do was threaten to kill her if he didn't comply," Stabler threw in. "He would do anything to save her life, wouldn't he?"
Eames' mouth opened but nothing came out. Once more she tried with the same result. Then she sat back in her chair.
"Okay, we agree that Goren was forced to have intercourse with Allison Chalmers," Benson said. "Why would their captor do that?"
"Humiliation," Barek piped up, barely looking up from the file she read. "Forcing Goren to do what he would expect the killer to do, making him the same, would be the ultimate degradation. Unless…"
"Unless he wants to take him, too," Stabler completed her sentence. "Like he tried with me."
Silence fell.
The tension between the cops was so dense that you could cut it with a knife.
"What did we get from CSU so far? Anything about the scene? The van? The evidence taken from the hospital?"
Once Stabler had broken the silence it turned uncomfortable.
"What? Cat got your tongues? Call it by its name, he tried to rape me. I refuse to allow him the chance to do the same to Goren! We're running out of time. So what did we get from CSU?"
His anger embarrassed the others. For a second they had forgotten their priority, finding Goren, and he had caught them red-handed. Knowing that their colleague still was in the sadist's clutches tortured them, too. They knew the chances that he had not already been violated were slim. Still they refused to let go of the hope that they still could save him. They had to save him.
"They found prints in the van belonging to Randolph Cockrill as well as a partial from Nicole Wallace. His prints also were on the belt."
"That belt," Barek interrupted her partner, "I think it has some significance for him. He used a belt before. It seems to be one of his preferred weapons."
"So how does that help us?" Eames asked wearily. "He likes to use belts because what, that he was beaten with one as a kid? Because he's a leather fetishist?"
"Why don't you try and see if Miss Wallace can answer you these questions?" captain Deakins suggested.
"Yeah, there are other things I'd like to ask her, too," Eames said. "Caro? Let's give it another shot."
Barek nodded and both detectives stood to go and interrogate the Australian once more.
xXx
"So, Miss Wallace," Eames said. "Now you can explain to us why you knew the exact place where your dear cousin Randolph planned to dump his next victim."
"I never knew," Nicole told her. "I once followed him to the old factory. I thought he'd have a hideaway there."
"Well, he didn't," Eames said dryly. "He slit the woman's throat and dumped her there."
"I didn't know. I couldn't know. You can't blame me for the crimes of my cousin." Nicole crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back in her chair. Her chin was raised defiantly.
"We can charge you for aiding and abetting if you knew his plans and didn't prevent his acts," Barek said.
"Prove it!" Nicole spat.
"Your prints are in his van." Eames slapped the corresponding report page on the tabletop.
"And?"
Nicole sounded almost bored.
"You're his accomplice," Eames snarled. "You're in for multiple murders. You're going right to hell."
"My prints just prove one thing: that I sat in his damned van. Nothing more."
"They connect you with every murder we can charge him with," Barek explained. "There were genetic traces in the van proving that he transported his victims in the loading space. The last one was Allison Chalmers." She put a portrait of the young woman on the table. "She got kidnapped, tortured and killed because she knew Goren. Your cousin took her life because he wanted to hit Goren."
"Now I should be impressed?" Nicole chuckled. "Give me some dates. I'm quite sure that I have alibis for at least a few of them."
In the observation room Deakins and Stabler were following the interrogation. The detective clenched his fists so hard that the knuckles shone white, making his anger clearly visible.
He had followed his wife's advice and changed into fresh clothes. With the light stubble still shadowing his face the shadows under his eyes were not quite as obvious. Now Stabler leaned on the thin edge of the window's frame, staring at the blonde through the one-way mirror.
"She can put her damned alibis where the sun doesn't shine," Stabler growled lowly.
Deakins glanced at him and mused that it was better that he did not understand him. Then Stabler started pacing. The sight stabbed Deakins' heart as he was reminded of Goren.
"They're not getting anywhere," the SVU detective grumbled. "She's about to shut down completely. She's been cooperative so far. If she asks for her lawyer now she'll let us run into the next dead end."
"They have to get her to talk," Deakins murmured. "It might be Goren's last chance."
"Well, it's quite obvious that she won't talk," Stabler spat, gesturing wildly at the window. "The last time she reacted to the bad news about Goren! Why don't we use that now?"
Why? Captain Deakins hazarded a guess and thought that Eames certainly had trouble with speaking about her partner. So she tried to find another way to break her. So far without success.
"Let me give it a try," Stabler said. "We don't have time to waste. C'mon!"
Undecidedly Deakins watched the detectives work Nicole Wallace. Stabler was right, there was no time to waste. But was his approach the right way to open her up? Sighing he made his decision.
"Okay, let's see if your tactic works better," he said.
Nodding excitedly Stabler turned on his heels and left the observation room. Out on the floor he stopped short. His mind was a blank. What did he want to tell her? To ask her?
Still he stood with his hand on the door handle. His heart beat wildly.
God! It can't be that difficult. I told Cragen and Deakins…Hawkes… it shouldn't keep me from doing my job!
Not willing to let the vivid memories take control of him he pressed the door handle down and entered the interrogation room. Surprised the Australian looked up at him, eyeing him up from head to toe and back.
"And you are?" she asked.
"Detective Stabler," he answered. "Special Victims Unit."
"Special Victims…" she mused. "What kind of unit is that?"
"Sex crimes," he bluntly said.
For a second silence fell. Nicole stared up at him, the set of his jaws, the icy look in his eyes, the expression on his face… and she knew. This man was definitely her cousin's type. Stabler would have to fear Randolph's interest, not Bobby.
Stabler did not intend to waste any more time. Supporting himself on the backrest of her chair Stabler bent over her to get in her face.
"Let's talk turkey, Nicole. The ladies here have a knack for beating about the bush, but you know what your fine cousin is doing and you know where he's doing it."
If he had not been so close Stabler might not have noticed Nicole's tiny flinch.
"I won't let you play with me. You know what he did? When we cornered him in the Bronx he tried to rape me, but he didn't succeed. So we both know that he's doing the same to your beloved Bobby now. He is taking what you always wanted to have."
Eames was stunned. Given what little Stabler knew about Nicole and Goren… Maybe she really was too deeply involved with Nicole if she did not give him credit for possibly understanding their relationship.
"It may be too late to save him from an assault, but you can still save his life." Stabler's blue eyes pierced her. His stare made her cringe, but she remained silent. Almost causing her chair to topple over backwards Stabler pushed himself off of her to leave.
"Barek, Eames, let's go. We're finished here," he said dryly, making a beeline for the door.
Eames was stunned. They had to try and get her to talk. He could not simply give up! Why would he do that? She had to stop him.
"Nicole, I really would like to know…"
"Eames!" Stabler bellowed. "It's enough. Let's go."
He opened the door and stepped aside, waiting for the two female detectives to leave. There he stood, his features stern and his gaze averted from the Australian. He looked at the wall and let the women pass.
Nicole saw them leave and her heart skipped a beat. Why did they not try to push further?
Stabler just turned to follow the detectives when Nicole shouted, "Wait!"
So he stopped under the door, but he did not turn.
"Come back."
Looking over his shoulder he asked, "Why should I? You don't have anything to say."
"I'll tell you," Nicole grumbled.
"Tell me what?"
"There's only one thing I can tell you," Nicole said tonelessly. "Honestly. It's all I know, I swear."
"What is it?"
xXx
FDR Drive
"Can't be where he's holding Goren. When he fled he was in open pasture. It must be outside of New York."
Eames was nervous. Actually she was agitated. Restlessly she was squirming in the passenger seat while Barek was driving. She was yearning to hold the steering wheel. It would distract her from her gloomy thoughts and give her something to occupy her mind with.
"But maybe we'll find a lead to his real hideaway," Logan said from the backseat.
"Let's hope so."
Following the Franklin D. Roosevelt Drive north they approached the Bronx again.
"If she would've talked earlier we could have stayed there," Eames grumbled. She still was mad at Stabler for what he had done in interrogation. So she was glad that he was riding in the other car. Of course she knew that he was right and his strategy worked, but she also knew Nicole's history. She could have refused to talk as well.
"Let's be content that she did talk," Deakins said, "and see if we can't find a trace of Goren there."
Eames sighed. Their captain was right. She appreciated that he went with them. His mere presence gave her something to rely on in the moments when she felt like crying, was about to break down screaming, or yearned to beat someone up. It was so unfair! Why was life that unfair? Why her partner, why Bobby? His life had been filled with misery since his childhood. Why was he not able to catch a break in his life?
Her chest was tight with grief. She wanted to believe that her partner and friend, the man she loved, still was alive and fighting. She could hardly bear the thought that she had let him down. They all had let him down. Despite their combined efforts they were not able to find him and she sensed that he was slipping away from them more and more.
Hold on, Bobby, she pleaded inwardly with him. Hold on! We're coming! I won't let you die! Don't you dare die on me!
"That must be it," Barek murmured and pulled the car to the curb.
They alighted from the car and followed Barek to the front door. It was locked. So the detective went along the house in search of another entrance. Around the corner she found a side door which gave way when she pushed a bit harder. Drawing their weapons and flashlights the cops stalked inside.
"That's the stolen bike," Logan whispered as he spotted the machine in the first room.
They passed the door to the hall and explored each room with their service pieces ready in case they ran into their suspect. But the house was vacated. Just a few rats ran for the nearest hole when they were caught by rays of light.
"We missed him again," Logan swore. "Dammit!"
He was not alone with his opinion. By then Stabler and Benson had arrived, too. They accompanied the major case detectives when they all searched the house for leads their perv might have left. They did it with little energy. Their desperation, and desperation it was as their hope of finding Goren alive was dwindling rapidly, wore them down and added to their tiredness after days of searching in vain.
Sure, there was the bike, but what kind of traces might it hold? As Cockrill had stolen it the night before there were probably his prints and traces of his clothes, but nothing else on it would be relevant for their case.
"Look at that," Deakins called for his detectives.
On a table he spread a map he had found. There were marks on it. They were in different colors and in one corner a legend was drawn with several names on it.
"What the heck…" Eames stood right beside Deakins, the others surrounding them.
"The people he watched," Barek mused.
"Crap!" Logan panted from behind them, looking over his partner's shoulder. "There's every victim we found. When did he do that? He's alone! How could he follow all of them to get all these dates?"
"Good question," Deakins said. "If Nicole helped him? Maybe that's why she knew about this hideaway."
"But then she would have known about his interest in Bobby," Eames threw in. "She seemed genuinely surprised that he has been taken."
"She also said that she thought that her cousin wanted to match wits with him," Stabler told her. "She probably was interested in that challenge."
"Here's one name more than we know," Benson meddled in and pointed at it. "See? There's one more woman. Does that name sound familiar to you, Alex?"
;P"I'm not sure. Bobby has a lot of acquaintances."
"We should check it out," Deakins declared. Glancing over the detectives he noticed that Stabler appeared to be edgy. Maybe it was a good idea to get him out of here where their suspect had lived. So he said, "Benson, Stabler… you'll go and talk to her. Now."
Nodding his confirmation Stabler simply turned and left, Benson catching up on him after a few strides. That was when Deakins' cell phone rang. He answered the call, listened for a moment and then flipped the phone shut.
"That was Munch," he told the others. "The building is owned by a Torben Hardwood, lives in Woodbury, New Jersey. No current tenants. Logan, why don't you and Barek go and try find someone who saw our guy here?"
"Sure, Cap," Logan muttered and left with his partner.
"What about me?" Eames asked. "I need something to do, too."
"You can help me try to find any trace of Bobby here," her superior murmured. Suddenly his voice carried emotion. He knew Goren as long as she did, maybe not as well, but he was one of the few people her partner honestly respected.
Eames realized that examining the hideaway for traces of him actually was the hardest job and she felt honored that Deakins thought she would be able to do it.
"Thanks," she mumbled, starting to skim through a pile of papers on the cupboard on the wall.
"What for?" Deakins asked, slightly confused.
"Your trust."
They did not stay alone for long. A team of forensic scientists joined them. It was no one from Mac Taylor's team, but both cops had worked with them before.
While they were searching the premise Logan and Barek questioned the people in the neighborhood. Right across the street was a twenty-four/seven drug store and Logan strode in confidently.
"Hello," the man behind the counter said as the detective approached him, glancing up from his newspaper. "What can I…?" The sight of a gold shield pushed between his nose and his reading made him pause for a moment before he finished his sentence, "do for you, Detective?"
"The building across the street… noticed anyone there lately?"
"The house is abandoned. The owner would have to redevelop it but doesn't… so he finds no buyer either."
"Yeah, but did you see someone over there?"
"There were all kinds of scum housing over there. In the beginning we called the cops, they came, chased them away, the house got barricaded. But they came back. They always come back. Most people avoid the building because they have no idea who's hanging around there."
"What about the last few weeks?" Logan asked for the third time, his voice starting to carry his annoyance. "Seen anyone strange?"
"It's never paying to pay too much attention to other people business. Haven't seen anyone there."
"Okay, thank you, sir." Once Logan turned his back on the man he rolled his eyes.
xXx
unknown location
Time had lost its specifications. It did not seem to pass at all though it certainly was.
For Goren it had transformed into episodes of rest, beating and torture, which Goren, being in denial, could not bring himself to think of as rape. He did not know what to expect next and ceased to try and figure it out.
Right now Kirkpatrick was sleeping on the mattress he had brought in. Goren could not see him but he also saved himself the trouble to look around for him. The regular snores told him as well that the pervert was fast asleep.
Since the first piercing attack it did not matter if he kept his eyes open or closed. It was a mere choice between stone walls or blackness. At the moment he preferred blackness. As long as he did not try to move he could pretend to drift through space.
He longed for sleep or unconsciousness but neither of them would come. As much as his whole body hurt, he did not pass out. So he just could lie in his chains on the concrete floor, waiting for the next attack.
Even comforting illusions were no option. The last one he had was destroyed by the shock of the initial attack. Each time he tried to recall peaceful memories now he just met blankness. More vividly he remembered the facts which had brought him here. But they were told him by Kirkpatrick in this unnerving low voice, accompanied by a vicious smile.
There were no clear pictures of his partner, just shadows floating out of reach like ghosts, and Alex' voice remained an echo he was not even sure he ever had heard.
Something else came to his mind. He could just guess but he was relatively certain that he was held prisoner longer than any of the women. Kirkpatrick forced him to drink to keep him from dehydrating. The water came from the hose he had used to spray Goren down in a cold blast when he had had no other choice then let his own water run. Drinking from the hose was degrading, but it was better than to die of thirst.
Goren had thought about refusing, but once the cold liquid touched his lips his instincts had taken over. The same applied to the food Kirkpatrick had given him. It did not come as regularly as the water, but when he got some he ate with pure instinct of self preservation.
His captor's actions could not fool him, though. Judging by the moans and cries the man uttered each time he forced himself on him, he was truly enjoying himself… and he did not want to give this up. So Goren knew that he only supplied him with food to keep him strong enough to be used and abused. As long as Kirkpatrick did not lose his interest in him there was no way that he would quit that ill-treatment.
Goren on the other hand was more than willing to quit. Convinced that he would not live to see sunlight again he wished for death rather than being held a slave.
Deep in morbid thoughts he did not notice the man approach until he felt the hands on his hips, stroking downwards to caress the buttocks. Left with no mental energy he did not even flinch or gasp due to the touch.
And that did not remain unobserved by Kirkpatrick.
"Hey, Bobby. You with me, pal?"
Just for this pal-shit Goren would have cheerfully shot him if he only had had a gun. Instead his only option was to react or not to react. He did not.
"C'mon, Bobby. You're spoiling the fun," Kirkpatrick complained.
What fun? The prospect of being beaten up or being raped for the umpteenth time was nothing Goren could refer to as fun.
Kirkpatrick tried to trigger a reaction by slapping his back and sexual assault but nothing worked. When he realized that Goren's passiveness could not be broken by threats he got up, got dressed and left the cellar to play his last joker.
tbc…