Mind of a Fanatic
Chapter 4
Horatio regained consciousness a short while later. Did anyone get the number of that two by four? His head throbbed and at first he couldn't remember where he was. He opened his eyes and everything came crashing back on him. . Damn! He scrambled to his feet and frantically looked around. "Calleigh!" he shouted. There was no response. He slowed his frantic searching and took the scene in. Panicking wasn't going to help. Her purse and firearm were on the ground and her keys were in the door. There was a discarded handkerchief on the lawn near her gun.
Horatio pulled out his cell and dialed Dispatch. "This is Lieutenant Horatio Caine. We have an abducted CSI; location, 8125 Saratoga, Bal Harbor. I need everything you can throw at me to process this scene." He cut the connection and retrieved his kit from the rear of the Hummer.
Horatio began to process the scene starting with Calleigh's home. He turned the key and entered, searching for anything that could tell him if Dupree had been inside. Finding nothing, he headed out the front door, carefully closing and locking it behind him. His stomach twisted as he considered the evidence she'd unwillingly left behind; purse, firearm, handkerchief. He was supposed to be keeping her safe. He assured her that she would be fine, that Dupree wouldn't touch her and he'd gone and lost her on his watch. . Nice work genius …
Flashes of the crime scene photos flashed across his inner eye and he groaned. Guilt crashed over him again and again like waves on the ocean. How long did Dupree have her already? What had he already forced her to endure? He was shaken out of his guilt-riddled reverie by the sound of another Hummer screeching to a halt next to his. Eric and Natalia exited the vehicle and approached him, kits in hand.
Eric made it to Horatio first and he was understandably angry. His voice was a low growl, not enough to be insubordinate he wasn't that stupid, but enough to let Horatio know that Eric held him responsible.. "H, what the hell happened; I thought she was with you?"
"She was. Dupree must have been following us. We got out of the Hummer, walked up the path, I heard footsteps and then nothing. He hit me from behind; when I came to, he and Calleigh were long gone." He rubbed the back of his aching neck, sick with guilt and the after effects of a possible concussion. "Time is not our friend right now. We need to find her before that lunatic-"
"Yeah, I know," Eric said tightly, cutting him off. He felt terrible; he'd been so angry at Horatio but now he could see just how upset the older man was. Eric knew that if it had happened on his watch he'd be feeling the same way. "We'll find her; but not if we keep standing here playing should-have-could-have-would-have."
"Hey guys," Natalia called from the front walk. She was busy cataloging the scattered items. "I've got her PDA; but her cell is missing."
"She never puts her cell in her purse," Eric answered automatically. He and Horatio
shared a look. "It's always in her back pocket."
"County issued cell phones have GPS tracking; Calleigh's phone wasn't turned off, we can track her . God bless technology! " Horatio said, snapping out his own cell. "Cooper, I need you to track Calleigh's cell……Dupree's got her; we need to know her location right now…..I'm waiting." Horatio tapped his foot impatiently, watching Eric and Natalia process the scene.
"What? Good work, Dan." He closed the connection and raised his voice. "They're headed southwest of route 59 toward the 'Glades. From Cooper's estimated speed, they have about 45 minutes on us."
Dupree pulled off Route 59 and onto an unused access road. He wanted his penitent in proper attire before entering the Chapel; preferring to change her himself since he knew there would be a tussle and that he may have to physically knock her out to get her to co-operate. That would never do; he wanted her unblemished when she came to the Chapel.
He rounded the back of the Bronco and let down the gate. He gazed at his newest mission with pity; so much sin; so much atonement to be done. Taking the penitent's hair shirt he made just for her from the shopping bag, he leaned in and began to undress her.
Eric pulled the Hummer up to the co-ordinates that Cooper had supplied, but could see nothing. "Hey Coop, there's nothing here. Are you sure you have the right cell? There's no car, no Dupree and no Calleigh." He and Horatio got out and scanned the area.
"Yeah," Cooper's voice said over the speaker. "I have yours and Horatio's in the same location. She's got to be there man."
"Eric, I have something," Horatio's voice floated to him in the growing darkness. I don't like that tone. This can't be good.
Eric rounded the back of the Hummer and approached a crouching Horatio. "What is it?"
Horatio had begun pulling garments out of a shopping bag; underwear, a black blouse, black slacks and a pair of heels. His stomach twisted just considering what could have happened in that very spot. "Calleigh's clothes; her cell is still in the back pocket. We may have a secondary crime scene here."
Eric felt as if he were going to be sick. "I'll scan for biologicals," he said, his voice tight. Please don't say that he…. He scanned the area with his crime light, each sweep a relief. "There are no biologicals here, H."
"Her clothes were folded neatly and placed in the bag. That means that she was still unconscious when he removed her clothing." Horatio replied, running his flashlight over the tracks. "I see his tire tracks turning and back out the way he came. After that, who knows where he took her."
"We've got to find her. If this guy already did something to her-"
Horatio placed a hand on the younger man's shoulder, although he was feeling the same exact way. "We'll find her. We have to."
Everything hurt; no, it was just her head. Had she hit her head? She couldn't remember anything at first. Eyes kept shut, she struggled to move beyond the fog in her mind and reconstruct just what happened to her.
She and Horatio were in the department Hummer that Horatio had signed out for the night. People tended to think twice before messing with a Humvee. They stopped at her place to pick up some of her things. Horatio had insisted that he accompany her inside….With a horrible jolt she realized that Dupree must have surprised them, done something to Horatio and taken her. She remembered a grunt behind her and she had spun, drawing her firearm; then there was nothing. Panic started to beat at her mind. She clamped down on it, breathing deep, trying to relax. If she expected to survive this coming ordeal then she needed to think like a survivor instead of someone already hanging their head in defeat. The worst had already happened and she needed to deal with it rationally. Calleigh prayed that Horatio was just knocked out and not taken out. She focused on what she knew about Dupree; crazy yes, but a killer, no. Regardless of how insane he was, he was still a Catholic priest, which meant that all life was sacred to him. He didn't kill his vics, So it was a reasonable assumption that Horatio was alive, mad as hell and already looking for her. He'd find her, it was only a question of when – and how long she could hold out.
Figuring that she had better sit up and assess the situation, she opened her eyes and was immediately horrified. Bad decision; very bad decision …
It was a Spanish Inquisitor's wet dream. Memory flashes of the first crime scene in Louisiana flashed before her inner eye. On the far wall, hung various whips, flagellum and scourges, ranging from small and mostly harmless to a huge one made of leather and tipped with nasty looking barbs meant for only one thing; tearing living flesh from bone. Just in front of that wall sat some sort of low table with a crank on one end. Don't even begin to speculate on what that little gem is for …
Her eyes roamed the room from her place on the floor, taking note of things she knew and puzzling over those she didn't. She was sure Dupree would introduce her to each and every one, personally. And didn't that just give her a case of the warm fuzzies …
One object that caught and held her attention was a large, round post in the center of the room. It had two iron chains bolted to each side. It reminded her of the slave whipping posts she saw when she took the historical Plantation tours as a school child year after year.
She shuddered and struggled to sit up, the garment she had been laced into rasping roughly against her skin. A small gasp escaped her lips at the mild discomfort, realizing that the discomfort will only grow the longer she was forced to wear it. She looked down at herself. She was wearing the tanned skin of some animal. The hair had not been removed and that was what rasped against her skin. Beneath it, from the feel of it, she was naked. . There was a series of images she didn't need.
She sniffed and realized she was wearing goat skin. "Aw, gross," she whispered.
Her hands were fastened behind her back and her shoulders ached in protest. Great, Dupree was a Boy Scout with an advanced knot tying merit badge on top of everything else… She got to her feet and attempted to explore her surroundings and find a means of escape, but found she was tethered by a rope that went up and over a beam in the ceiling and then down to another crank on the other side of the room. Resigned, she sat back down to wait.
Calleigh didn't have to wait long. The door opened a short while later and Father Peter Dupree entered, attired as he would be to celebrate the Mass.
"May God's Love soon find you, Penitent," he greeted kindly.
"My name is Calleigh Duquesne, not Penitent." She said calmly; looking him over.
He was older, a little graying, but still just as powerfully built. Okay, scratch the idea of physical resistance; he'll snap you like a twig. Time to demonstrate that blonde doesn't automatically equal dumb …
"That wasn't polite, Penitent," Dupree said. "You have much catechism to learn, child. You will need to work extra hard to learn your true place in the world. We should begin. Let us pray: You deserve, O God that all men should come to know truth and be saved. Send them, we pray, workers into your harvest field, and give them the power boldly to proclaim your word. Thus may your gospel be received and honored throughout the world, and every people know you, the one true God, and your Son whom you have sent, our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen." He approached her and smeared oil on her forehead. "I claim you for the Holy Roman Church."
"Too late," She jerked her head away. "I was baptized a long time ago. I'm Episcopalian by the way."
"Then not only are you a penitent, but a heretic as well," Dupree said. He turned his back on her crossing the room and stopping by the lone crank. He turned the crank several times. Each turn of the crank drew the rope behind Calleigh higher, gradually forcing her to get to her feet. As she rose, he spoke, "I am going to tell you which are man's treasures on earth so you won't slight them: hunger, thirst, heat, pain, dishonor, poverty, loneliness, betrayal, slander, prison…I endured all of those when you sent me to prison for doing God's work. You gave me such treasures and that is why I want to save you in return; and you will be saved. You will be brought to God." Seeing that he had Calleigh in exactly the place he wanted her, he stopped cranking and locked it in place. She was now on her toes and struggling for balance, arms pulled up behind her, causing her more than mild discomfort. For the thousandth time Calleigh cursed her genetic bad luck at being born short.
"Now we shall begin your catechism," he instructed. "Repeat to me the Pater Noster."
"Excuse me; the what?" She'd play his game for a while so she could judge his insanity level
Wrong answer, Penitent. He unlocked the crank and turned it a notch. "Recite the Our Father."
"Oh. Our Father that art in Heaven-" she cut off as her arms were jerked sharply upward.
"In Latin, Penitent," Dupree said sternly.
"I don't know it in Latin," she gasped. It was hard to breathe with her arms twisted upward behind her. This is supposed to be easy to handle? I'm in serious trouble.
"Then learn it. Repeat after me: Pater Noster"
Her Protestant upbringing reared its ugly head. She balked. "No, I won't."
Dupree shook his head sadly as he unlocked the crank and turned it until Calleigh dangled a foot off the floor. He let her hang there a few moments before dropping her until her toes just brushed the floor. He stopped her with a jerk and was rewarded with a pained grunt. "Repeat after me: Pater Noster-"
Not going to happen pal! Calleigh drew a breath. "No, I won't."
"Penitent, I'm trying to teach you." He drew her up again and let her drop, receiving another pained grunt for his efforts. "It will be easier on you if you stop fighting me and learn your catechism. Learn it in the language of Our Lord."
Calleigh raised her head, looking his straight in the eye, her gaze full of defiance. It was a pretty neat trick considering her arms, back and chest were experiencing new levels of pain every time she breathed. "Then that should be in Aramaic, not Latin. The Hebrews of the region of Galilee spoke Aramaic. Only the Romans spoke Latin. You're a priest. You should know that. Didn't they show The Passion of the Christ in prison? Jesus was a Hebrew and therefore spoke Aramaic."
"Do not blaspheme!"
Dupree moved like lightning, slapping her sharply across the mouth.
Temper, temper …Feeling a small trickle of blood run from the corner of her mouth, Calleigh challenged again, "When Jesus was put on the cross the ROMANS in LATIN placed above his head a placard saying that he was King of the Jews. Jesus was Jewish."
"Do not preach to me what is in the New Testament; you are a heretic,"Again, he slapped her sharply across the mouth. "You know nothing and speak only with the Devil's tongue."
"You've got to being kidding me!" Calleigh muttered, shaking her head in disbelief. He obviously didn't believe in loving thy neighbor …
Dupree returned to his place by the crank. "Say the Pater Noster in Latin. Repeat after me…"
"I said, no."
Dupree raised and dropped her again.