Requite by E. H. Reinhard Page A

back of the shop.
    He took the corner of the duct tape that covered her eyes and ripped it from her face. The tape took chunks of her eyebrows with as he pulled it away.
    She yelled out in pain before opening her eyes. Tom stood before her. He smiled.
    The look on her face was that of immediate fear. “Oh my God! Help! Help! Someone!” she screamed.
    Tom reached back and punched her square in the nose. It burst into a spray of blood as she ripped back and forth in her chair. Tom stuck his finger in her face. “No screaming, Bitch!”
    She didn’t obey. “Help! Help!”
    Tom placed his left hand over her mouth to contain her outburst.
    She tried biting at his hand.
    He reached in her mouth, grabbed her tongue and jammed his fist between her teeth. “If you don’t shut the hell up I’m going to take this knife and cut out your tongue.” Tom pulled the knife from his pants and flicked open the blade.
    She quieted. Tom flipped the knife closed and jammed it back down into his pocket.
    “Looks like you know why you’re here now, don’t you?”
    She nodded. She tried mumbling something. He’d imagined it was some kind of plea. “Shut up. I don’t want to hear it.” He let go of her tongue and took his hand away.
    “It wasn’t my idea,” she said.
    “I wasn’t kidding about cutting out your tongue. Now zip it.” He walked to the bench. “Remember this?” He slid the tire iron from the top and started back toward her.
    Jessica shook her head. “Please no. Please God no.”
    He knelt back in front of her. “Did you think I’d forget? Or do nothing?” Each word out of Tom’s mouth was followed by a tap on her head with the tire iron.
    Jessica winced with each smack. “Where’s Jake?”
    Tom put his mouth an inch from her ear and whispered. “The morgue.”
    She began to cry. She squinted her eyes. Her tears mixed with the blood from her nose and streaked down her face. Her shoulders bounced from her erratic breathing. Tom watched her emotions.
    She opened her eyes. A look of anger crossed her face. “You were supposed to die you piece of shit!” She jerked at the duct tape binding her. Blood ran from Jessica’s nose down into her mouth. She gathered it and spit it at him—hitting him in the side of his pale, uncovered face.
    Tom licked the spit away from the corner of his mouth. “I think it’s time for you to check out.”
    As soon as the words left his mouth he raised the tire iron over his head. Jessica’s eyes looked up at the blow coming. She only saw the first one. The impact knocked her out cold. The second strike was fatal. Tom wasn’t through. He raised the tire iron in the air again, and again. Blood ran from the top of her head down onto her shoulders. Tom dropped the tire iron to the ground and grabbed Jessica by the bottom of the face. He pulled the knife from his pocket and held her head steady so he could work. The tip of the knife sunk in, stopping when it hit her skull. The letters flowed from Tom’s knife through her skin. He was getting better with practice. He put the knife away and stepped back. His chest heaved in and out as he sucked in huge breathes of air. His heart banged against his ribs. He closed his eyes and drew in breaths—in and out, in and out, each breath slower. He let his rage fade a little more with each filing of his lungs. He opened his eyes.
    “Your father is next.”

Chapter 12
    We arrived back at the station a little before noon. Hank and I made our way through the cubicles of the bustling bullpen and parted ways—he headed off to his desk and I walked in to my office. I plopped down in my big leather chair, took in a deep breath and tried to get my bearings. It had been a long morning. I grabbed my notepad from my pocket and went over to my to-do list I started earlier. I needed to check and see what Forensics came up with, get out to the crime scene and get interviews set with the witnesses.
    The top of the list was as good a place as any to start.