Over the next four weeks, Mark developed working on a plan on how to get rid of Seth Baxter once and for all, by making his upcoming death look like a Jigsaw trap. There were plenty of other methods he could have used, such as fire, poison, a chainsaw, or even a shoelace to be used for strangulation, but the pendulum was perfect. Within a day or so, he succeeded in finding the right location to play out the execution, which was an abandoned warehouse. Every night, soon as his niece fell asleep, Mark would drive out to the warehouse and spend countless hours constructing everything himself, always wearing a pair of black gloves so he wouldn't leave any fingerprints behind. In finding the ideal location and setting everything up for the fateful night Seth Baxter would die, Mark had also taken up the hobby of recreating a creepy-looking, harlequin-like puppet with dark hair and a ghostly white face, replicating every single detail, even right down to painting a red spiral on each cheekbone. He also acquired some technical equipment so he could distort a video recording and make his voice sound identical to Jigsaw.
While all this was going on, Sally started noticing a few changes in her uncle's behavior. During the time of setting up the pendulum trap, Mark started distancing himself from spending time with his niece. Whenever Sally asked him if he would play with her or take her someplace, the detective would always make up an excuse and say he had work to do. The little girl didn't know what was going on or why her uncle was avoiding spending time with her once he came home from work. Soon after they finished eating dinner, Mark would put her to bed and tell her that he was going out somewhere for police work, often coming back home very late. Sally never questioned any of this, but during his absence, she could only think about one place that he might have been going to, and that was the bar he frequented every Wednesday night. Mark was hardly sleeping and ate very little, which worried Sally, who was afraid that her beloved uncle was either sick, dying or getting involved into something illegal.
Not only that, but Sally started noticing that whenever her uncle came home after work, he often started pouring himself a drink, sometimes even a few drinks. He never drank when he was at home. Maybe he used to when she was much younger, but Sally couldn't remember. Usually, Mark would go out once or twice a week to a bar and come home late at night, usually crashing on the couch and waking up with a hangover. One time, Sally found him passed out on the bathroom floor and thought that he was dead, but she succeeded in waking him, to which the detective sat up right away and vomited into the toilet, which was more than enough to convince the little girl that her uncle was alive. Violently ill, but alive.
Sally knew that something was wrong once her uncle started bringing home bottles that were filled up with amber-colored liquid that smelled sour and rancid, like cheap motor oil, but never complained about it to his face, and for good reason. Each time he drank so much as half a glass of this stuff, his mood suddenly changed, and usually when he was in his room and thought his niece was asleep, Sally could hear him crying or talking to himself through the wall, but she never got out of bed to check on him and see if he was okay or needed some comfort. Mark never inflicted any physical harm on her, but each silent glare he gave her discouraged the child from asking him what was wrong. Thus, Sally tried to stay out of his way whenever she witnessed him indulge in the toxic dependency of his drink. Secretly, she wished the nightmare would end, but unfortunately, it was only about to get much worse.
….
On the night of June the 5th, Mark drove out to a nightclub on the other side of town and sat in the parking lot, waiting in his car until he saw his sister's murderer come out. When Seth Baxter finally came out of the building, the detective was surprised to see that he had his left arm wrapped around a young blonde woman's waist as the tattooed man went in to give her a kiss. Mark felt like throwing up just looking at this disgusting excuse of a man. As far as he was concerned, Seth Baxter was a pig that needed to be slaughtered.
When the blonde woman broke away for air and managed to free herself from her lover's hold around her scantily clad body, Mark decided it was time for him to make his move. He pulled his hood up before he got out of his car, then walked right up to Seth while the man had his back turned and raised his arm to stick him with a needle, jabbing it painfully into the man's neck. Seth tried turning around to see who had attacked him, but then Mark injected him with a tranquilizer. All at once, it started to rain.
Thunder rolled across the ebony sky as Mark dragged the now-unconscious Seth to his vehicle, keeping his hood up the entire time in order to hide his face from anyone who might have been watching, then he drove his car to the abandoned warehouse to place Seth into the trap specifically designed for his execution. Mark entered the main room and laid Seth's body down on a metal table and worked on removing the unconscious man's shirt to expose his stomach, leaving him bare-chested, and locking an automatic collar around Seth's neck. He then removed Seth's shoes before shackling both his arms and feet in order for the fake Jigsaw game to play out as planned. Once he was done securing the victim, Mark walked out of the room and stayed hidden behind a door, waiting for the prisoner to wake up.
Right away, Seth woke up and started to panic as he screamed for help, but Mark knew there would be nobody coming to help Seth Baxter that night, except maybe the Devil to claim his worthless soul. The detective turned around and watched through a peephole in the wall just as the television came to life, filling the room with the sound of static before the video showed the face of the harlequin-like puppet.
"Hello, Seth. I want to play a game."
The vengeful detective knew this would work the minute he heard his distorted voice recite the speech he had written for Seth, who listened to what the puppet was instructing him to do, which was place both his hands between two devices that would crush his hands, rendering him incapable of ever taking a life again. This is for you, Angelina, Mark said to himself. Soon, the tape ended, and the game began.
The moment the blade started swinging back and forth, threatening to cut into his flesh like a hungry beast, all Seth Baxter could think of to do was scream as the pendulum lowered itself down closer to his torso every second that passed, claiming that what he did to his former girlfriend was an accident.
Accident? How the fuck do you accidentally murder someone, you motherfucker?! Mark asked himself. If a random person killed somebody, whether it was intentional or not, murder was still murder, and no matter what Seth Baxter said or did, nothing would bring Angelina back from the dead. The main reason Mark was doing this was for all the hurt, pain and suffering that this sick bastard had put him through during the last six years by killing off his only family. Keeping Sally in mind, the detective uncle was also doing this to make sure that his niece never risked the chance of running into her birth father. Seth didn't even know what his daughter looked like, not that he would remember or care about her, anyway. Nevertheless, Mark didn't want him coming anywhere near Sally. He had to protect her. He couldn't protect Angelina, but he could still protect her daughter and only child by keeping her safe.
Mark didn't remember looking away once the blade started cutting into Seth's stomach, spilling blood and guts all over the room. Seth Baxter did was he was instructed to do, but Mark had purposefully rigged the pendulum trap just so he could kill his sister's murderer and watch him take his last breath.
Once the giant blade stopped swinging, Mark reentered the room and took out a surgical scalpel from his pocket, using it to cut out a bit of flesh in the shape of a jigsaw puzzle piece from Seth's torso, throwing focus onto the Jigsaw Killer so that no one would ever suspect him. If only the detective had remembered to remove the tape from the crime scene before he walked out of the building that night.
...
Once he got back home, Mark entered his apartment and closed the door behind him, pulling his hood off to brush his hands through his hair to shake off some of the rainwater that somehow managed to find its way through the dark blue material he was wearing. He had done what he set out to do and succeeded. He anticipated a lot of possibilities that could have or might have gone wrong, but as far as he knew, nobody was aware of the sin he just committed. Nobody he knew personally, that was.
Just then, a lamp turned on next to the couch, brightening up the living room a bit. Mark nearly jumped out of his skin, not expecting to find someone waiting for him, let alone a small, dark-haired female who got up from the couch and walked around it as she went over to confront him.
"Where did you go?!" Sally demanded, clutching her mother's doll in her arms. Her cheeks streaked with two glistening trails left behind from previously shed tears. "I woke up and you weren't in bed!"
"What the hell are you doing up so late?" Mark asked her, angrily.
"Watch your language, mister!"
"Answer the question, goddamn it! And don't start crying again."
"I heard thunder outside and I got scared. I went to your room to wake you up, but you weren't there. I thought you left me."
Mark stared at his niece for a moment, then crouched down to look the child in her eyes while placing his right hand on her left shoulder. "Let's get one thing straight", he said. "If I ever decided to leave this godforsaken place, I wouldn't go anywhere without you. Do you think I would abandon you like that?"
"I don't know what you'd do. And I don't know what you're doing lately, Uncle Mark, but I don't like it."
Angered at what she was implying and quickly losing his patience, Mark grabbed Sally by her shoulders, picking her up and walking over to the couch to set her down while he remained standing.
"Let me tell you something, you snot-nosed little brat", Mark barked at the child. "I just got back from doing something I never thought I'd have to do. You have no right talking to me like that."
"Is that what you say to all your no-good junkie buddies out on the streets?" Sally quipped.
"Watch your attitude, young lady. And what the hell are you talking about?"
"Just admit, Uncle Mark. You're selling drugs, aren't you?" Sally accused, looking close to tears.
The detective stared at the little girl, disbelief painted all over his face. "Jesus Christ, is that what you think I'm doing?" He asked her. "What makes you think I would do that? You know drugs are bad."
"I don't know what you do when you leave the house late at night. Apartment, I mean."
"Well, it doesn't matter. You just keep your mouth shut and don't mention about this to anyone, or else you're going to be in big trouble. Do you understand me?"
"Who am I gonna tell?" The child remarked. "Tomorrow's the last day of school and I won't have any friends to talk to. You won't even let me visit Christine and her dog."
"Leave her out of this, Sal. Christine doesn't need to get involved. She has a life, she has a boyfriend-"
"She's lying to you!" Sally shouted in protest.
"No, she's not", said Mark, sounding much more calmer than his niece. "I looked up her boyfriend and found out who he is. And you know what else? He's a Jigsaw victim, just like that young man was."
"What young man?"
"David."
Sally thought about this for a minute, looking confused. "Detective Tapp?"
"No, not David Tapp. Another David. Are you even listening to me, Sal?"
"Why didn't you tell me Seth Baxter was my daddy?" The child asked out of nowhere, wishing to change the subject.
Mark felt his heart stop beating when he heard his niece say that out loud. "What the fuck did you just say?" He asked her, his voice no more than a whisper as he tried to keep his rage under a lid.
"I found a newspaper in your room earlier when I went to look for something", Sally confessed. "I saw my mommy's name written on the page, Angelina Acomb. It said she was found-"
"SHUT UP!" The detective shouted furiously, scaring his niece and making her flinch from the loud, harsh tone of his voice. "You don't deserve to speak her name! Not after what you just fucking said!"
"But why didn't you tell me I had a daddy?" Sally questioned him, furrowing her eyebrows in anger.
"He's not your daddy!" Mark objected. "And don't call him that."
"Why not?"
"Because it makes me sick to my stomach! That's why!"
Sally lowered her head to avoid looking at her mean uncle, her lips barely moving as she mumbled something under her breath.
"What was that?" Mark asked, a hint of a warning in his voice.
Lifting her head to look up at him again, the little girl challenged his authority and said defiantly, "The only time you're sick is when you drink that stinky motor oil!"
"Shut up!" Mark barked at her again. "Don't you tell me about having a drinking problem or how to run my life. I'm sorry that I'm not perfect, but you know what? Your mother wasn't exactly a saint, either."
"Don't you talk about my mommy that way!" Sally shouted.
"She was my sister long before she was ever your mother", Mark reminded the child. "You think you know her better than I do? I'd like to hear you say it. Go on, tell me something I don't know about her!"
Sally didn't say anything and just stared at the detective, who knew she wouldn't have a single thing to argue against him, thus proving him right.
"You don't remember, do you?" Mark questioned.
"Remember what?" Sally asked.
"The night my sister was murdered", the detective answered. "The night I lost the only family I had left in this world. You probably don't remember because you were too young at the time, but I do. I remember every detail, right down to a fucking tee. One night, I was about to leave the police station, when an operator informed me that somebody called in about a domestic dispute, and as soon as I heard what the address was, I drove right over to Angelina's apartment like a maniac and rushed inside to see where she was. Some of the cops who were already there tried to stop me from entering the bedroom where they found her body, but I pushed them aside so I could see for myself, and there she was lying across the bed with her neck sliced open. Do you hear what I'm telling you? He sliced her neck open!"
"Stop it!" Sally begged him, raising her hands to cover her ears. "I don't want to hear this!"
Mark grabbed both of the child's wrists and lowered them back down to her sides. "No, you need to hear this, little girl", he argued. "You're seven-years-old now, and you need to know the truth. You're old enough now to finally understand the truth about what a fucking animal your so-called father was."
"Stop treating me like I'm a baby", Sally ordered him, feeling fresh, hot tears fall down her cheeks. "You're not the boss of me."
"Yes, I am, little girl. As long as you live with me, I'm in charge of you, and you will do exactly as I tell you to do. Do you understand?"
"You're not my father!"
"You're right, I'm not your fucking father, but I wish I was! My sister could have been with any other guy in the fucking world, but she just had to pick the monster that provided you. You know what you are? You're a mistake! You shouldn't even be here! If it weren't for you, Angelina would still be here!"
Right then and there, Sally felt as though someone had driven a huge nail into her heart, for in that moment, her face turned a bright shade of red and scrunched up as a wail of sorrow escaped from her lips. Lowering her head down into her hands, Sally failed to silence her sobbing as more tears started streaming down her face.
Realizing too late what he just said, Mark released his hold on his niece, looking shocked at himself and instantly regretting the poisonous words he inflicted on the child. As a last minute resort, the detective reached his arms out and attempted to hold her, but Sally knocked them away.
"Don't touch me!" The heartbroken child cried.
"Sally, I'm sorry", Mark apologized, meaning it. "Honey, I wasn't thinking. I shouldn't have said that."
"Then why did you?"
The room went quiet as Mark stared at his niece, unable to find an answer to the question she asked him that felt like he had been hit in the face with a sledgehammer. He knew he had went too far with his unsavory choice of vocabulary and had said far too much that he couldn't think of any excuse to give her.
Sally didn't accept his silence and shook her head before she stood up and started running towards the hall to head to her room. Mark stayed right where he was and heard the door slam, but chose not to pursue her. Once he heard his niece continue crying from her bedroom, the detective turned around and looked down at a newspaper lying on the coffee table. It was an old one from 1997 that featured an article about his sister's death. Mark usually kept it hidden in the back of his dresser drawer, yet Sally had managed to find it. He remembered his then one-year-old niece being in the same bedroom as her mother's corpse that night, but he didn't recall checking on Sally to see if she was hurt. He remembered seeing her in a corner of the bedroom, sitting next to the crib that Seth Baxter flipped over during the fight before he killed the detective's sister. Rather than tend to the crying toddler and comfort her, Mark ignored his frightened niece and went right over to the bed and broke down crying, mourning over the loss of his sister, paying more attention to the dead Angelina than to the living child who needed him.
At that point, Mark felt sick and disgusted with himself, feeling ashamed and remorseful of what he had done, and the only thing the detective could do was sit down and let out a sigh, comparing himself to a monster who had caused great damage, not because he destroyed a building or killed any innocent people, but because he hurt an innocent child by being emotionally and verbally abusive towards her.
Once the crying ceased, Mark looked towards the hall and stood up to go check on his niece, but for one reason or another, he stood outside her door, looking reluctant to open it and see if she was okay. He didn't know why he hesitated, but then again, he didn't know what he was supposed to say to the little girl. Even if he apologized for all those horrible things he said and Sally rejected him by telling him to go away, Mark knew he wouldn't leave her side unless she talked to him, or at least listened to what he had to say.
Risking the chance, Mark opened the door and hoped to find Sally was still awake, even if she had her back facing towards him, only to find that she was sleeping. Her body was facing towards his direction, but rather than laying underneath the comforter that covered her bed, Sally had fallen asleep on top of the blanket that was supposed to keep her warm at night, for in her moment of unhappiness, she didn't think about that at the time. To make matters worse, as if Mark didn't already know, it looked as though she had tired herself out from all her crying. All she wanted was to disappear to some faraway place on the other side of the globe, away from the only relative she had ever known.
Glancing down at the floor, the detective noticed that the porcelain doll that used to belong to his sister was now lying next to the bed rather than on top of it with its new owner, which he figured Sally must have done on purpose to empathize her anger and frustration with her unhappy life. Rather than be angry at her, Mark quietly walked into the room and stood by his niece's bedside, staring down at her with sad blue eyes that were filled with regret over all the crap he gave her about how much she made his life miserable by reminding him of his sister's killer. The words he spoke to her just now would haunt him for the rest of his life for as long as he lived. Hoping to talk to Sally and tell her how sorry he was, Mark attempted to reach his hand out to touch her shoulder, but then stopped himself. He feared that if he tried waking her up, or at the very least tried to pick her up and place her underneath the blanket so that he could cover her up, Sally would probably hate him worse or refuse to speak to him.
Looking at the floor again, Mark crouched down to retrieve Angelina's doll and rose back up to his full height to place it under Sally's right arm and make it look like she was holding it, before he started to unzip his parka and slid it off his shoulders so he could use it to cover the sleeping child, providing her with the heat used from his body to keep her warm. Unsure of what else to do since she was asleep, Mark chose to let out a sigh, then turned around and headed towards the door and walked out, quietly closing the door behind him. The moment he exited the room, Sally opened her eyes and lifted her head up before turning it to look down at the coat her uncle draped over her body. The inner lining was graciously warm, but even as she lied her head back down and closed her eyes again, she still felt mad at her uncle, and by the time the sun rose up, her next move would only make him feel much worse.