Mind of a Fanatic
Chapter 8
"Alright, you've been given your team assignments. We will begin here and then search in an ever increasing spiral until CSI Duquesne is found. Ladies and gentlemen, I cannot stress to you how dangerous this man is. Who ever locates him, do not attempt to apprehend him yourself. Call for back-up." Horatio stood in the parking lot of the Home Depot that Mr. Ibarra generously offered for them to use as base camp. There had to be more than half of MDPD standing there, waiting for instructions; the calm before the storm. "I want regular check-ins every fifteen minutes. We have Rescue on call. This man has had CSI Duquesne for over 48 hours and her condition is unknown at this time. She may be able to walk away on her own or she may need any manner of medical assistance including emergency intervention. Let's move out. Dupree is going down before the sun rises."
She tried to fight him with everything she had in her, but her legs wouldn't hold her and her right shoulder was swollen and on fire. She had so little strength left and could not suppress a cry of anguish as Dupree dragged her back to the post and locked her in. He unlaced her tunic, once again laying it open, baring her back. Welts and bruises from the last time he had her at the post glowed against her reddened skin, blood welled in spots that had been rubbed raw.
"Blessed be pain. Sanctified be pain…..Glorified be pain," he quoted from "The Way".
Doesn't he ever quit? Calleigh raised her head, determined to resist no matter how much she hurt. "More lessons?" she said weakly.
Dupree pointed to the small tattoo on her hip. It was of a magnolia blossom. "You marked your body with foul poison, Penitent."
"It's my body and I'll do with it as I please," she gasped.
"It is the vessel that God gave you and you have fouled it." Dupree spat. He turned and went to the wall like he had done the last time and considered carefully before taking down a whip and made a few practice swings. It was also made of rope and tri-tailed, but the ends of these tails ended to metal balls. They made a harsh high whistle in the air.
"I think we shall try the Stations of the Cross this evening." He said pleasantly, like a man choosing an entrée at his favorite restaurant. "I want no more foul language from you, Penitent; one more foul word and I'll beat it out of you."
"You'll beat me anyway so why should I care what language I use?" Calleigh challenged. Regardless of how badly she hurt she wouldn't give him what he wanted without a serious fight. Her body would eventually heal. "What is it now; whips again?"
"Only if you answer incorrectly or curse," he said reasonably.
"Well, you'd better start swinging because I don't know what the Stations of the Cross are, how many and I can't recite them. It's your religion not mine. When are you going to get that through your thick dumbass skull?" Calleigh said recklessly, sounding a little like Frank. It made her smile slightly, thinking of the big tough Texan and how many coffees he'd bought her after she whomped him good on the firing range.
Her smile was erased as the lash struck her back, splitting skin. Blood ran from the gash. She cried out as a second and third blow fell.
The search was now heading into its fourth hour with no luck. They had checked half a dozen abandoned buildings only to find one alligator nest and lots of rats. The spiral was now a solid mile away from Home Depot and Horatio was afraid that the trail was going cold. The magic 48 had come and gone. Every minute that ticked by was another minute that made the trail colder. His heart clenched at the prospect of finding Calleigh only to have already lost her; her mind snapped and gone. Please hold on, Sweetheart. We're coming. Just a little longer.
"Caine and Delko checking in; still no luck. We're moving off to the next location. Out."
The lash landed again. "The fourth Station: Jesus meets his mother. Say it."
Calleigh took a ragged breath, praying for unconsciousness. "No."
He struck her again, opening another set of wounds. "The fourth Station: Jesus meets his mother. Say it."
Calleigh could feel warm blood running down her back; she was kneeling in it as it pooled on the floor. She raised her head, defiance burning in her eyes. "Shove it."
"H, I think I have tire tracks," Eric said, shining his light on them. "They look fresh; and are consistent with the kind used on early '90's Ford Broncos. Should we follow them? It'll take us off the search spiral."
"What does your gut tell you?" Horatio asked, looking over at his former brother in law. They were both completely exhausted, but hope fuelled them on.
"Follow the tracks," Eric replied without hesitation.
They set off after the tracks.
Dupree let the lash fall again and was rewarded by another cry of pain. Her cries were nearly screams and he finally felt that he might be breaking her resistance. "The seventh Station, Penitent. Jesus falls a second time. Repeat it." All he received was a groan. She was nearly unconscious. He grabbed her by the hair and slapped her face, waking her. "Say it."
"Screw you."
She screamed as the lash fell again and again.
"Eric, do you see that light over there?" Horatio asked, pointing to a faint glimmer. It was nearly indistinguishable in the darkness, yet the glow was like that of a stained glass window; very out of place in the middle of the Everglades.
Eric turned off his flashlight and let his eyes get adjusted to the darkness. He looked to where Horatio pointed. Sure enough, there was a light. "It's got to be Dupree's nest. The tire tracks are leading in that direction." Please let it be Dupree. Please don't let it be another dead end.
They began to carefully pick their way over the brush and around mud holes, careful to constantly check that the tire tracks were still leading them in that direction. It was barely audible, but both men had been silent and were so highly attuned to any foreign sound that it rang like a clear bell; a high-pitched scream.
"Calleigh," Horatio breathed, his stomach dropping at the anguish in the cry. Oh dear God, what's he doing to her to make her scream? He whipped out his walkie. "This is Lt. Caine and CSI Delko. We've found her. Repeat; we've found her. Back-up and Rescue needed. We are approximately one mile northwest of the base camp. Track my cell. We're going in; Caine out."
Another scream drifted to them on the still night air. Without a word, both men took off at a dead run for the light source, flashlights carefully trained on the ground, alerting them to any dangers. Having one of them hurt would be a disaster. As they neared what looked like to be an old concrete bunker left over from a quarry of some sort, a white Ford Bronco loomed up at them. Eric trained his flashlight on the license tag. "Louisiana temporary tags," he panted. He could feel the rage build inside him and he fought it down. They couldn't afford to do anything more to Dupree than arrest him; not if they wanted to make all charges stick.
Horatio and Eric took up positions on either side of the old office door and caught their breath. They listened carefully for sounds inside. There was the faint sound of a man's voice reciting something, it seemed. A pause; the scream nearly tore their hearts from their chests.
"Screw back-up. We're going in. He's not touching her again." Horatio said, drawing his firearm.
"It sounds like he's killing her," Eric said tightly, shouldering the door in. It gave easily enough and hadn't even been locked.
They cautiously entered and found themselves in what appeared to have once been the main office. It now contained a small table, coffee maker in place and a microwave. A small dorm-style refrigerator stood in the corner and there was a small writing desk and cot, crucifix hanging above the bed. Everything was preternaturally neat; prison or monastery neat. There was a door opposite the one they entered. It obviously led to the main part of the building. The man's voice was louder now from the other side of the door, but the words were indistinct.
"Home, sweet home," Horatio said darkly. Like Eric, he fought his rage. He wanted to beat Dupree as badly as Dupree was beating Calleigh, but he knew he'd have to let the justice system do it for him. He'd beat Dupree with evidence and make him bleed from the forensics. He nodded to Eric and they once again took up residence on either side of the door. Calleigh's scream covered their entrance.
Eric broke the door open on a scene from Hell.