CHAPTER FORTY

Haddie lay on the stone floor beside the stairs at least an hour before the hatch above opened. She sucked in a breath and her heart raced. Dust covered the floor in drifts. The room stunk of dust and decay.

“Ah,” Harold Holmes said. “It seems we can finally get to business.”

He let one of the other shadowed figures lead the way, a handful of zip ties dangling from their fingers. A silhouetted arm raised, and lights flared on. Haddie blinked, seeing the bearded man above her and long fluorescents in the ceiling. The room stretched in a large circle into which the stairs descended. Black metal columns supported beams of the floor above. She lay in what seemed the center. A heavy, black chair sat against the curve; bolts skirted the legs. Dust or dirt piled below it. It smelled of ash.

The bearded man yanked her up and began shuffling her across the floor — toward the blackened chair. Bolts held the legs bracketed to the stone floor. He pushed her into the seat. Using her hair, he pulled her head back and went behind her. He wrapped a zip tie around her neck and tightened so that Haddie sat straight-backed. She could breathe, but there was no moving without choking.

Harold Holmes walked to her left side where a metal stand waited, and he took of his coat carefully. “Detective Cooper seemed quite interested in me. Even after I assured him that you left the office soon after our short interview. He seems to share some of your habits. Persistence being one. I may end up having to set up a crime scene for him to attend.”

Haddie felt metal at her wrists and flinched, but the bearded man only cut one cuff of her restraint and pulled up a scraped, cramped, and nearly limp right arm. Efficiently, he wrapped a zip tie over her elbow and secured it to the chair.

Holmes rolled up the sleeves on a pale blue shirt. “You seem healthy overall. I’m sure you’ll do as well as can be expected. Sarah Colman did not prove up to lasting long enough for me to be confident of my answers.” He turned toward her and shrugged. “Unfortunately, I lost my patience with Mark Colman before we even got started.”

The bearded man had her neck, elbows and arms strapped to the chair. Holmes motioned toward her legs. She wouldn’t be able to move except to swing her legs out straight. Kicking shins would not get her out of this. Swung to one side, her ankles were bound to the right leg of the chair. She imagined she would not survive this chair. Her only hope would be to die without giving up her friends. For a moment, she wanted to beg, promise something that would make Holmes change his mind, but his eyes lit with determination and eagerness.

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Some of Haddie’s texts surely incriminated Terry or Liz. What would Holmes deem worthy of death? She hadn’t been close to knowing it was him, and he’d tried to kill her – was going to kill her. What chance did her friends have? Dad might survive. If he had lived as long as he said he had, and truly had some strange ability, then he might live, if he gave up on her. But he couldn’t give up any more easily than she could.

Harold Holmes nodded to the bearded man. “Her gag, too. Then, we are both going to need some water. I think she’ll make a few rounds.”

A knife pressed against her cheek, and the cloth tugged then loosened. Dropping his remaining ties beside her chair, the bearded man walked for the stairs. Gray ash coated his black dress shoes.

“Let’s get this started, shall we?” Holmes rubbed his hands together. “I’ve got family coming in today, not that I expect him to make it.”

Haddie imagined the blackened corpses and sucked in a breath. I don’t want to die.

He made a soft hum, almost melodic with high notes that seemed to spring from the air around her. An aura of light surrounded him, leaking from his skin and dulled by his clothes. He held his palms up for her to see and they lit with bright fire that curled out into short flames which flickered and licked into the air as if hungry to burn. She choked and instinctively withdrew, but the most she could manage was to turn her head. He grimaced as if it pained him, but his flesh didn’t burn. She could feel the heat. How was he doing this?

He placed his palms on the back of her wrists and hummed.

White light seeped out from under his hands, illuminating Harold Holmes and the room. Skin crackling and scorching, Haddie screamed. The pain burned up her arm, though the burning fire had doused into the flesh around her wrists. The smell of her own burnt skin had her retch into her lap. She gagged and sobbed. A blackened circle extended out a couple inches from the beginning of her forearm down toward her knuckles, barely the width of her own hand. The pain felt so much larger. The edges of her wet bandage smoldered, and embers died out.

He breathed deeply in and out, but smiled. “Realize,” Harold Holmes said, “the different parts of your body that I’m going to burn. Each one will have a unique sensitivity. I’m going to have to work my way through at least a couple of them before we even start with the questions. Just so that I know you’re taking us seriously.”

The pain dulled her mind. She couldn’t survive another. How had he done that? Is this what Dad does?

Without fire, Holmes reached down and touched her pants at her thighs, as if to gauge his next target. Reeling, she barely realized what he was doing, jumping only as he made contact. He winced at his own movements; somehow this hurt him as well. Dad had said something similar, but she couldn’t remember his exact words through the pain.

He positioned his hands just above her knees, and smiled. “There is so much flesh on the thighs, I find they work well.”

Haddie sobbed in quick inhales. She could see the burn on her wrist. The pain extended up her entire arm. She couldn’t imagine what her thighs would feel like. Anything to stop it. Even if she lived, she couldn’t imagine it would ever heal. Her legs shook at his touch. Sam had to survive; she’d take care of Rock. Tears rolled down Haddie’s cheeks; she couldn’t betray Terry or Liz, but he’d barely started, and she was desperate.

Holmes began to hum.