Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 128307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
I realize she’s taking it one step further than what we learned at the academy when she pulls back the wrist she tugged behind his bulky frame. She yanks Samuel’s hand so far back that she is seconds away from snapping several bones in his wrist.
Her voice is no longer sugary sweet when she demands, “Give me something on the baby-making ring in this state, and then maybe you can walk out of here without a conviction.”
She’s lying, but Samuel doesn’t know her well enough to realize. “I don’t know anything.” He sobs like a baby, stupidly believing Macy will go easy on him now that his appendage isn’t on the line.
Big mistake.
A snap cracks through the penthouse when Macy dislocates one of his fingers before she moves toward a second one. “Give me something on the baby-making ring you work for.”
“I don’t know anything.”
Crack.
“I work in construction—”
Crack.
If Samuel is a pianist, he will need a new occupation. He’ll have trouble holding a pen at this rate.
“This is your last chance, Sammy.”
“I swear to God, I don’t know anything.”
Crack.
Macy eyes his crooked fingers on his right hand before she reaches for her gun. It dawns on me that she didn’t solely pack a gun for her date. Her bureau-assigned pistol smuggled the knife that we used to cut potatoes for the dinner prep meals we made while waiting for our lunch to cook.
She looks at me, her expression serious despite the panic flaring through her eyes. She usually plays good cop during interrogations like this, and the changeup is evident on her face. “I figure if it slices through bones with no issues, it will slice through the vessel that feeds the corpus cavernosum like a hot knife through butter.”
Samuel swallows harshly, like he is aware of the repercussions of a failing corpus cavernosum, but Macy still spells it out to him.
“The corpus cavernosum is one of the two chambers in your penis that fills with blood when you want to achieve an erection. If it can’t fill with blood, say from a severed blood vessel”—she makes a noise of a rock sinking into a bottomless pond before she lines up her knife with said blood vessel—“nothing works.”
Samuel’s throat bobs as he shoots his eyes to me. “Come on, man. Don’t let her do this.”
“Oh… now you want me here. I thought you weren’t into that?”
“I’m not… I just… oh god, please. I don’t want to live without a functioning dick.” Big, panicked breaths separate his pleas. I get it. Honestly, I do. A knife anywhere down there warrants a panic attack. Macy knows that. That’s why she’s using it as an interrogation tactic.
“Last chance, Sammy.” She projects confidence, like she won’t struggle with her decision to play bad cop for days on end, her voice full of fake cruelty. “Or say goodbye to little Mr. R—”
Before she can get out the nickname of Samuel’s wang, he folds like a lawn chair. “I don’t know the full details of the operation. We’re merely transport.”
To prevent Samuel from hearing Macy’s relieved sigh, I take the lead on our impromptu interrogation. “And waste disposal?”
He doesn’t hide the shame in his eyes when he agrees with my assumption.
“Where do you collect them?” Macy asks, restarting her interrogation, her voice tinged with optimism.
“I don’t—”
Macy’s knife digs into his flaccid cock firm enough to nick him.
“I’m texted when needed. The location changes every pickup. I’m not lying. I swear on my baby sister’s life.”
“Leave your sister out of this.” Macy’s sneer picks up with anger as her eyes bounce between Samuel’s wet pair. “I know you know more than you’re sharing, Sammy. I can smell the deceit on you.”
“That’s because I’m married.”
Another lie. Another nick.
“I only transport the girls… but I overheard one of the men talking about a Lamaze class in San Diego.” I don’t understand his expression when he says, “I assume that’s where they get the recruits from.”
“Where?” Macy barks out, more clued on than I am. “We need an address.”
“I don’t know…” His words are screams, the pressure of Macy’s knife enough to sever. “Honestly, I don’t know the exact studio, just that it’s run on Wednesdays, and that one of the boss’s girlfriends runs it.”
He’s telling the truth, but Macy still struggles to remove her knife from his cock.
I meet Macy’s gaze, have a private conversation, then pull my badge out of my jacket and flash my credentials. “Samuel Ezekial, you are under arrest for multiple counts of transportation and disposal of human bodies, interference with a corpse, trafficking, and whatever else I can pin on you between now and your hearing.”
With Macy’s knife still pressed against his junk, he sings like a canary. “There’s nothing else. That’s all I did. I just transferred the women. They were already dead. I swear.”