criminal here. It's you who should be locked up for bringing this poor creature into the world. He didn't ask for this life. What did he do to deserve this life of pain?”
" Please, just let my son live. I'll find a home for him—a better home.”
" Do you know how they put down sick animals?”
The imagery was more than Holly could bear. She wanted to retreat, but where could she hide? She felt the agent's hand on hers and looked up. Agent Grant's face seemed like the face of an angel in the refracting light of her tears. "I know this hurts, but you must be strong—for Gabe. Try to remember every detail.”
" They stick them with a needle, and the animal drifts off to sleep. One pin prick and their suffering is over. What is the greater evil? One pin prick, or years of horrible suffering?”
Holly could not respond.
" I promise you, your son will not suffer. He won't even feel the prick of a needle. He will simply go to sleep and never wake up.”
She grabbed her ears. "Noooooo! I can't listen anymore. I can't!”
The figure stood silently staring, as if he could see Holly rocking back and forth—her eyes squeezed shut—her hands clutching her ears. He waited for her. He watched her like a lion watching its prey, waiting for the moment when it is most vulnerable.
Holly gasped for breath and slowly lifted her eyes to the screen.
" You don't have to be strong, Holly. I'll be strong for you.” He leaned forward and the screen went black.
" Nooooo! My BABY!” she lunged toward the screen, but was stopped by a muscular officer. "My baby! He can't kill my baby!”
Agent Grant grabbed her firmly by the wrists and stared into her eyes. "Listen to me!" She shook hard. "Listen! He won't. You can stop him! You can do this, Holly. You're strong enough. You won't let him kill your baby, and we will help you. Do you understand me?”
Her body went slack and her voice shivered. "He's going to kill him. He's going to kill my son.” Her eyes froze into a dead stare.
" No. He isn't. You're going to stop him. You're going to help us nail this guy.”
Chapter 6
Jake climbed the steep narrow stairs to the door of his friend Dan's apartment. It never smelled good in the small apartment house, but today a new odor offended Jake's nostrils. It smelled like a stack of diapers in the middle of a redemption center. Jake pounded on the door marked by a gold 3 that was hanging upside down on one screw. He listened.
" It's open," came Dan’s voice, distant and muffled.
Jake removed a plastic bag hanging from the handle and opened the door. Dan's collection of empty diet soda bottles lined the left side of the even steeper stairs that led up to his living room. They were not the source of the redemption center smell from the hallway, however. Dan was a strange mix of clutter bug and neat freak. He was too lazy to return the bottles, yet his obsessive compulsive disorder forced him to rinse them thoroughly and place them back into their cardboard containers.
Dan kept everything clean, even the piles of clutter that seemed to encircle every room in his apartment. He was the only person Jake had ever known who kept ordered piles of clean junk lying around on the floor. But for Dan it wasn’t junk, they were milestones—shrines to past television, movie, or music conquests. To Dan—it was all treasure.
Jake crested the top of the stairs and saw Dan in the middle of his living room, bathed in the light bouncing off the wall he used to project his computer screen on. He could afford a projector screen, but he liked having one wall covered with images from his desktop, while the other walls were covered in posters.
Jake saw that he had caught him in the middle of his morning routine; he was still wearing his workout clothes, and the bar on the weight bench still had weights on it.
For the two years he had known him, it always struck Jake as odd to see Dan in his natural habitat. He was a decent looking guy, dark hair, dark
" Please, just let my son live. I'll find a home for him—a better home.”
" Do you know how they put down sick animals?”
The imagery was more than Holly could bear. She wanted to retreat, but where could she hide? She felt the agent's hand on hers and looked up. Agent Grant's face seemed like the face of an angel in the refracting light of her tears. "I know this hurts, but you must be strong—for Gabe. Try to remember every detail.”
" They stick them with a needle, and the animal drifts off to sleep. One pin prick and their suffering is over. What is the greater evil? One pin prick, or years of horrible suffering?”
Holly could not respond.
" I promise you, your son will not suffer. He won't even feel the prick of a needle. He will simply go to sleep and never wake up.”
She grabbed her ears. "Noooooo! I can't listen anymore. I can't!”
The figure stood silently staring, as if he could see Holly rocking back and forth—her eyes squeezed shut—her hands clutching her ears. He waited for her. He watched her like a lion watching its prey, waiting for the moment when it is most vulnerable.
Holly gasped for breath and slowly lifted her eyes to the screen.
" You don't have to be strong, Holly. I'll be strong for you.” He leaned forward and the screen went black.
" Nooooo! My BABY!” she lunged toward the screen, but was stopped by a muscular officer. "My baby! He can't kill my baby!”
Agent Grant grabbed her firmly by the wrists and stared into her eyes. "Listen to me!" She shook hard. "Listen! He won't. You can stop him! You can do this, Holly. You're strong enough. You won't let him kill your baby, and we will help you. Do you understand me?”
Her body went slack and her voice shivered. "He's going to kill him. He's going to kill my son.” Her eyes froze into a dead stare.
" No. He isn't. You're going to stop him. You're going to help us nail this guy.”
Chapter 6
Jake climbed the steep narrow stairs to the door of his friend Dan's apartment. It never smelled good in the small apartment house, but today a new odor offended Jake's nostrils. It smelled like a stack of diapers in the middle of a redemption center. Jake pounded on the door marked by a gold 3 that was hanging upside down on one screw. He listened.
" It's open," came Dan’s voice, distant and muffled.
Jake removed a plastic bag hanging from the handle and opened the door. Dan's collection of empty diet soda bottles lined the left side of the even steeper stairs that led up to his living room. They were not the source of the redemption center smell from the hallway, however. Dan was a strange mix of clutter bug and neat freak. He was too lazy to return the bottles, yet his obsessive compulsive disorder forced him to rinse them thoroughly and place them back into their cardboard containers.
Dan kept everything clean, even the piles of clutter that seemed to encircle every room in his apartment. He was the only person Jake had ever known who kept ordered piles of clean junk lying around on the floor. But for Dan it wasn’t junk, they were milestones—shrines to past television, movie, or music conquests. To Dan—it was all treasure.
Jake crested the top of the stairs and saw Dan in the middle of his living room, bathed in the light bouncing off the wall he used to project his computer screen on. He could afford a projector screen, but he liked having one wall covered with images from his desktop, while the other walls were covered in posters.
Jake saw that he had caught him in the middle of his morning routine; he was still wearing his workout clothes, and the bar on the weight bench still had weights on it.
For the two years he had known him, it always struck Jake as odd to see Dan in his natural habitat. He was a decent looking guy, dark hair, dark
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