J. Robb - Survivor in Death

Having the tape ripped off in the solid dark brought on a scream that was more from utter terror than pain. She was slapped, open-palm, on one cheek, followed by a quick answering backhand on the other.

“I said tell me if you understand.”

“No. I don't. I don't understand. What's the matter? Who are you? What-” She screamed again, her body straining against the restraints as pain exploded. Like a thousand hot needles jabbed into her bones.

“It will hurt every time you refuse to answer, any time you lie, any time you don't do as you're told.” The voice was quiet, flat. “Do you understand?”

“Yes. Yes. Please, don't hurt me.”

“We'll have no reason to hurt you if you answer our questions. Are you afraid, Meredith?”

“Yes. Yes, I'm afraid.”

“Good. You've told the truth.”

She couldn't see, but she could hear. She heard little beeps and pings, his breathing-steady. No, someone else, too. She could hear, she thought, movement-but not where the breathing was. Two of them. There'd been two of them.

“What do you want? Please tell me what you want.”

There was another jolt, shocking, quicker, that left her gasping. She thought she smelled something burning, like raw meat. And thought, through the shocking pain, she heard a woman laugh.

“You don't ask questions.”

A second voice. A little deeper, a little harsher than the first. Not a woman. Must have imagined. What does it matter?

God, oh God, help me.

Her eyes wheeled, and she saw there was faint light, just a slit of light to her left. Not in the dark. Thank God, not in the dark. Her eyes were taped as her mouth had been.

They didn't want her to see them. Didn't want her to be able to identify them. Thank God, thank God. They weren't going to kill her.

But they would hurt her.

“I won't. I'll answer. I'll answer.”

“Where is Nixie Swisher?”

“Who?”

The pain struck like a fiery ax, slicing her up the center. Her screams burst into the air, and tears of shock spilled down her cheeks. Her bowels went to water.

“Please, please.”

“Please, please.” It was a woman's voice, a sneering mimic of her own. “Jesus, she shit herself. Pussy.”

Meredith screamed again when the icy water struck her. She began to weep now, thick, wet sobs, as she realized she was naked, wet, soiled.

“Where is Nixie Swisher?”

“I don't know who that is.”

And sobbing, she braced for the agony that didn't come. Her breath came in pants now, her eyes tracking back and forth, from the dark, to the sliver of light, to the dark, to the light.

“Your name is Meredith Newman.”

“Yes. Yes. Yes.” Her skin was on fire, her bones were like ice. “God. God.”

“Is Nixie Swisher one of your cases, as an employee of Child Protection Services?”

“I-I-I get so many. There are so many. I can't remember. Please don't hurt me, please, I can't remember.”

“Register blue,” one of them said from behind her.

“Overworked, Meredith?”

“Yes.”

“I understand that. The system sucks you up, sucks you dry. The wheel of it runs over and crushes what's left of you. Revolution comes because of all it crushes. You're tired of the wheel, aren't you?”

“Yes. Yes.”

“But it's not done with you yet. Tell me, Meredith, how many families have you destroyed?”

“I-” Tears spilled into her mouth. She swallowed the salt of them. “I try to help.”

Impossible, unspeakable pain seared into her. Her screams were mindless pleas for mercy.

“You're a cog on that wheel. A cog on the wheel that crushes out the lifeblood. But now it's turning around to crush you, isn't it? Do you want to escape, Meredith?”

She tasted vomit on her tongue, in her throat. “Yes. No more, please, no more.”

“Nixie Swisher. Let me refresh you. A girl, a young girl who wasn't in her bed as she was told to be. Disobedient child. Disobedient children should be punished. Isn't that right?”

She opened her mouth, unsure. “Yes,” she said, praying it was the answer he wanted.

“Do you remember her now? Do you remember the little girl who wasn't in her bed? Grant and Keelie Swisher, deceased. Executed for heinous acts. Their throats were slit, Meredith. Do you remember now?”

His voice had changed, just a little. There was a fervor that hadn't been there before. Part of her brain registered the fact while the rest gibbered in fear. “Yes. Yes, I remember.”

“Where is she?”

“I don't know. I swear I don't know.”

“In the blue,” the other voice reported.

“Jolt.”

She screamed and screamed and screamed as the pain tore into her.

“You reported to the Swisher residence on the night they were executed.”

Her body continued to shudder. Spittle dribbled down her chin.

“Did you speak with Nixie Swisher?”

“Interview, exam. Exam, interview. Standard. No injuries, no molestation. Shocky.”

“What did she see?”

“I can't see.”

“What did Nixie Swisher see?”

“Men. Two men. Knives, throats. Blood. We'll hide now. Hide and be safe.”

“Losing her.”

“Stimulant.”

She wept again, wept because she was back, aware, awake, and the dregs of pain still lived in her. “No more, please. No more.”

“There was a survivor of the Swisher execution. What did she tell you?”

“She said…” Meredith told them everything she knew.

“That's very good, Meredith. Very concise. Now where is Nixie Swisher?”

“They didn't tell me. The cop took her. Against procedure, but she had weight.”

“As her caseworker, you must be informed of her location. You must supervise her.”

“Over my head. Under the table. I don't know. Cop took her. Police protection.”

She lost track of the pain now, of the times it ripped through her like burning arrows. Lost track of the times they brought her back from the edge of oblivion, pounded her with questions.

“Very well, Meredith. I'll need the address of every safe house you know. Every hidey-hole the system digs.”

“I can't- I'll try,” she screamed against the next wave of agony. “I'll try to remember.” She blurted out addresses between sobs and whimpers. “I don't know all of them, I don't know all. Only what they tell me. I'm not in charge.”

“Just a cog in the wheel. Who took Nixie Swisher?”

“The cop. Homicide cop. Dallas. Lieutenant Dallas.”

“Yes, of course. Lieutenant Dallas. That's very good, Meredith.”

“I've told you everything. Everything I know. Are you going to let me go?”

“Yes, we are. Very soon.”

“Water, please. Could I have some water?”

“Did Lieutenant Dallas indicate where she could take Nixie Swisher?”

“No, no. I swear, I swear. Into her custody. Not regs, but she pushed it through. I wanted to get home. It was a bad place to be. I wanted to get out. Supposed to check into the safe house with the subject, but Dallas overrode me. I let her.”

“Have you been in contact with Lieutenant Dallas since that night?”

“No. The bosses took it over. They don't tell me. It's high-profile. It's sensitive. I'm just-”

“A cog on the wheel.”

“I don't know anything. Will you let me go now?”

“Yes. You can go now.”

The knife slashed so fast, so cleanly across her throat, she never felt it.

EVE WALKED INTO HER OWN HOME AS IF SHE were walking into an op. “No one comes in, no one goes out,” she snapped to Summerset, “without my clearance. Savvy?”

“Certainly.”

“Where's the kid?”

“In the game room with Officer Trueheart.” Summerset hitched back the cuff of his black jacket to reveal a wrist unit. Not a time piece, Eve noted, but a monitor. On it, she saw Trueheart and Nixie battling it out on one of Roarke's classic pinball machines.