Mind of a Fanatic
Chapter 7
Ice water shocked Calleigh into consciousness.
"Wake up, Penitent." He grabbed her by the wrists and dragged her to the other side of the room, dropping her to the floor. "You tried to leave during the night, didn't you? I nailed the window shut just in case you thought to leave your schooling."
Shivering from the chill of the water, she looked up at him. He was back in his formal priest's robes. Oh, no, Sunday morning; don't tell me that he is going to make me sit through-
"It's time to celebrate the sacrifice of the Mass, Penitent; your first in learning your Catechism."
Summoning the strength to speak despite everything in her screaming for rest, she said, "I am not Catholic and will not willingly go to Mass."
His motions were so swift that Calleigh had no time to react. Almost 48 hours of abuse had taken its toll on her; reactions were slow, and her strength was nearly gone. She struggled with Dupree, but her blows were weak, made weaker by the constant unrelenting pain that had become her constant companion.
Dupree had no trouble picking her up and depositing her on the table that Calleigh had first noticed on Friday. He secured her arms above her head and her legs straight down. The knobs built into the base of the table dug cruelly into her severely bruised and abused muscles; she began to black out from the pain only to be brought sharply to consciousness by yet more ice water dashed over her. An ice cube cut her cheek, blood welled and began a slow migration towards to her ear. She shivered, teeth chattering.
"In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost, amen. The grace of God the Father and of the Lord Jesus Christ be with you," Dupree said, waiting for the customary response. All he received was a soft whimpering. "Penitent, the response is: And also with you."
Calleigh shook her head, jaw clenched, fighting the pain. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction.
"There is a price for your stubbornness, Penitent. You know that." Dupree turned the crank on the table which drew Calleigh's arms further over her head and her legs completely straight, putting a mild strain on her already screaming limbs. She let out another whimper.
"My sister, to prepare ourselves to celebrate the sacred mysteries, let us call to mind our sins." Dupree paused, obviously calling to his mind his own sins.
Add abduction and torture to those, you bastard. How can you be a man of the cloth? How did the priesthood let you in? How could they not tell that you're a monster? How could they not know? "I don't need a priest between me and God; and I do not confess." She choked and then let out a scream as Dupree turned the crank a couple of notches, the action pulling Calleigh's arms and legs further.
"I confess to Almighty God and to you, my sister, that I have sinned through my own faults and in my thoughts and my words; in what I have done and in what I have failed to do. I ask blessed Mary, ever virgin, all the angels and saints, and you, my sister, to pray for me to the Lord our God. The response is: Lord, have mercy."
God may be merciful but you wouldn't know mercy if it bit you in the ass. Calleigh gasped for air. She felt as if her entire body was on fire; drawing enough air to just breathe was enough. She had none to spare for speaking. An unwanted tear slipped from the corner of her eye. She shook her head and then let out a choking scream as Dupree turned the crank again. Her vision swam.
"The response is: Lord, have mercy." Dupree said, hand resting lightly on the crank. Why is she so stubborn? Why is she so resisting in accepting the loving embrace of the Lord?
Calleigh was beyond being able to reply. She could barely breathe and couldn't hear beyond the roaring in her ears. Each joint was screaming in agony and it felt like she was being torn apart. So this is the drawing part of drawing and quartering….. her fevered mind quipped. She shook her head, and then screamed as Dupree turned the crank again and she felt something in her right shoulder give way. The world went black.
Eric paced outside the Home Depot in the late afternoon. He squinted at the setting sun, waiting for the manager to show up and open up so that he could continue the investigation. In that community, working on a Sunday was something you just didn't do, regardless of corporate rules.
He rubbed his face tiredly. He hadn't gone home to change clothes nor had he slept since Calleigh had been taken. Had he even eaten anything since then? He couldn't remember.
Normally he would respect peoples' private religious convictions, but not today. Not when it interfered with an investigation and put someone he loved dearly, was family to him, in further danger and continued suffering. He growled irritatedly, looking at his watch. 4:17pm.; almost 48 hours had past. It was closing in on the critical time span when victims were either saved or lost.
The manager finally pulled into the parking lot. He took his time parking his car before getting out and walking over to Eric.
"I am Victor Ibarra. You are Detective Delko?" Ibarra asked in lightly accented English. He was short and stocky with abundant black hair and dark brown eyes. He was clearly annoyed. "This is the Sabbath."
"Yeah, well this is a police investigation. Crime doesn't stop on Sundays and neither does MDPD. We never close. Do you recognize this man?" Eric held up a picture of Dupree.
Ibarra squinted at the photograph, noticing the clerical collar. "I don't know. It's the Sabbath. I should be home with my family. Maybe if you come back tomorrow I'll remember."
"Listen, this guy abducts and tortures women. Right now he has a young woman that he took early Friday night and I can guarantee that he's beating the hell out of her as we speak. Her safety and recovery hinge on your co-operation, Mr. Ibarra. Do you recognize this man?" Eric did his level best to keep from growling at the man. Knots of worry and fear were old buddies in his stomach by now and were growing and producing families with every passing hour. It was killing him to know that his best friend was enduring things that no one should ever have to endure and there was nothing he could do about it right then.
The manager looked at the photo again, not wanting to believe that a man of the cloth, that kindly gentleman, abducted and tortured women. Then he remembered that Father Peters had only wanted to deal with men and that he looked at the female employees with such pity and sadness in his eyes. When he is finished with the woman he has now, will he take one of my girls? Three of his daughters worked there. One was the evening manager and two worked the floor. He couldn't take that chance. That woman was someone's daughter, too. "I have seen him. His name is Father Peters. He's been in here a few times for building supplies, I think."
Eric let out a breath. Thank God for small favors. "Do you remember what he bought?"
"It was building supplies. Nails, wood, chains; nothing unusual for someone doing home repair or minor building."
"Do you remember anything that he said about the materials?"
"Yes, I think I do. He said that he was building a mission not too far from here. I remember this because I thought it was a good thing to have a Catholic mission in the community. It would give the young ones a place to go and help them stay out of the gangs. But that was several weeks ago and I have not seen any rehab work or any new building since then. Has he truly been hurting women?" Ibarra asked. "I have daughters."
"Yes he does, Mr. Ibarra."
"Then I wish I could help you more. May God guide your hands in finding that young woman in time to save her."
"H, Mr. Ibarra, the manager of the Home Depot near the 'Glades told me that Dupree told him that he was building a mission somewhere in the area. He said he hadn't seen any activity of that kind in the area so-"
"That means it's in the 'Glades somewhere." Horatio finished for him. He put his hands on his hips. "There are a lot of abandoned warehouses out there, Eric. We'll need to search them one by one. Either way, we're bringing her home by sunrise. She's not spending one more day in that sick bastard's hands."