Chapter 45
FORTY-FIVE
Rage shot through the man’s body, causing him to feel pain in his muscles, limbs, and back as he peeled off his still-wet clothes then stood in the steamy shower.
He was angry at himself for falling prey to the detectives and risking getting caught and arrested.
He hated what they had made him do and the level he had to stoop to.
It was her. It was Katie.
He hated her, but he was also curious and intrigued by her actions.
He had never seen a woman who had that type of courage and determination before.
He wanted her dead, but he also couldn’t get her out of his head.
He wanted her. Her beautiful body. Her magnificent mind.
And, most importantly—he craved her soul. And he was going to get it.
He turned the shower all the way to hot.
He didn’t want to feel what he was feeling.
The burning sensation was extreme, but he knew it wasn’t going to burn him and leave more permanent scars.
They were reminders of his obsessions. He wore them like a badge of honor to show how strong he was—not like the police badge that Katie hid behind.
He stepped out of the shower admiring his battle scars.
Water was dripping on the tile floor. He didn’t immediately grab a towel.
He waited even as he cooled down—his mind went from admiring to hating Katie.
He remembered the look on her face when she saw the severed finger in that box.
It meant more to him than he’d originally thought.
He never expected someone with the tenacity to hunt him down, nor that they might actually achieve it. No, she wasn’t going to succeed. He’d seen who she was around. The dumb, tall detective partner, the intense boyfriend, and of course her uncle, the sheriff. How can she stand on her own two feet?
The man finally dressed and went outside.
There were his custom barns with his projects and on the other side the props that made his land and occupation look legitimate, with all phases of construction supplies.
Not that anyone ever came sniffing around at his property.
If they did, it would be their last time.
He went to the large barn, where he entered his code and the door unlocked. As usual, he switched the lights on and the fluorescent bulbs fired up in synchronicity. The area lit up brightly, enhancing his white equipment and floors, making it all even more luminous.
The man walked to the big tank, which resembled a type of isolation device.
It worked by creating an environment of sensory deprivation using a dark, soundproof pod filled with warm, Epsom salt–saturated water.
It allowed you to float effortlessly, freely, and experience weightlessness, minimizing any external stimuli—sight, sound, gravity, touch—helping the nervous system shift from stress to deep relaxation, promoting mental clarity and physical recovery.
That’s what it was supposed to be used for. The man found it helped with his mission in other ways.
His mind suddenly switched back to a much darker time in his life when his external stimuli was forcibly taken away from him and he was left for days inside a pitch-dark basement.
There was no food or water. So many times he thought he was going to die.
He couldn’t breathe on many occasions and passed out only to re-awaken.
He would live for another day. He began eating parts of his tattered clothes and tore at his skin.
He never knew when he would be thrown in the cold, dark, damp basement.
The memory of those days would never leave him…
The man snapped back to reality. He walked to the white tube and unlocked the padlock. He carefully pulled it off, savoring the moment. He slid open the isolation tank and immediately the humid air bathed his face like morning dew.
Almost instantly the water sloshed and a whine emitted. The face of a woman, Patricia Kahn, pleading. The harsh lighting against her white face was a startling contrast.
“Please…” she said. “Please let me go.”
The man leaned forward. “I can’t do that. It wouldn’t be any fun.”
“Please…” Tears flooded her face. Her eyes wide and terrified, her naked body covered in dried Epsom salts. “I’m going to die… please.”
“I will attend to you shortly.” He slammed the door shut and locked it.
Patricia’s pounding was barely audible.
He smiled, completely satisfied with himself.
He went to another tank and opened it—this time there was no lock.
The barn’s bright illumination revealed floating human body parts.
They were a combination of two other women, these floating in an alcohol mixture.
After the unpleasant experience at the hotel, this made him smile again.
In a whisper, he said, “It will soon be your turn, Katie…”