James Swain - The Program

“And Skell told you about Danni.”

“Skell talked about all his victims. He was a braggart. Skell approached your daughter in the parking lot of her college dormitory. He had a plaster cast on his arm – Ted Bundy’s old trick to draw sympathy – and claimed he was lost. Your daughter had been out for a morning run, and was out of breath. She turned to show him how to find the place he was looking for, and Skell banged her over the head with his cast, and threw her into the trunk of his car. It was early morning; no one saw a thing. Skell said that your daughter dropped her keys, and he regretted not picking them up.”

Linderman let out a deep breath. Crutch was playing him like a fiddle. Danni’s keys had been found by the Miami police in the parking area of her dorm. It was one of several pieces of information regarding her disappearance which had never been released to the public.

“Keep talking,” Linderman said.

“Your daughter was Skell’s slave for several weeks. She somehow managed to weasel her way into Skell’s heart. Perhaps being the daughter of a famous FBI agent gave her training to deal with such a situation – yes?”

Linderman lowered his arms, his hands clenched into fists.

“Skell also told me that your daughter was a wonderful cook,” Crutch said. “Her baked goods were particularly delicious.”

Linderman found himself nodding. Danni had learned to cook from his wife, and had once considered going to culinary school and making it her profession.

“Go on,” he said.

“Skell admired your daughter’s moxie, and decided not to kill her. He told me she was the only victim he’d spared.”

“What did he do with her?”

“He found a home for her. One where she could put her talents to use.”

“Skell gave my daughter away?”

“He sold her. There are people in the world who desire slaves. Skell found one of these people in Florida, and worked out a deal. The buyer was a rich foreigner who wanted a pretty young woman to cook and clean for him. Skell even told Danni the terms.”

“What terms?”

“You know, the arrangement. If Danni did certain things for her new owner, he would take care of her. If not, she would perish.”

“Did my daughter agree to these terms?”

“According to Skell, yes.”

“And you know who this person is.”

“Yes, I do.”

It was the kind of thing that Linderman could see his daughter doing. He decided that Crutch was telling him the truth.

“Tell me how you want to work this,” Linderman said.

“Is that a yes?”

“I want to hear the details first.”

“The devil is in the details, yes?”

“Don’t push it.”

Crutch dropped his voice to a confessional whisper. “This is what I want from you. First, you must leave me alone. No more intrusions into my world or surprise visits to the prison. You will not write a report about what I did, or talk about what happened here to anyone. As far as you’re concerned, I no longer exist. Understood?”

“Keep talking.”

“Second, you will not come to my parole hearing next year, and say unpleasant things about me. I have done my time, and want to be released.”

“Is that it?”

“There’s more. You will also contact that rotten prick Robert Kessler, and instruct him to stay away from the parole hearing as well.”

“What about Warden Jenkins? I can’t control what he says.”

“Jenkins won’t come to the hearing on his own. He’s more concerned about keeping his cushy job than what happens to me. Do you think he wants me telling the parole board that there were drug dealers inside Starke conducting business over cell phones? My bases are covered with Jenkins. It’s the FBI that I’m worried about.”

“When do I get the name?” Linderman asked.

“The moment I’m paroled, I will pick up the phone and call you, and tell you the name of the rich foreigner who’s keeping your precious daughter. Your search will be over. You will be free, just like I’ll be free. Now, do we have a deal?”

Linderman regarded Crutch with an almost clinical detachment. This was evil in its purest form, the apple being offered filled with poisonous worms. He would be selling his soul in order to find out what had happened to the person he loved. And, he’d be betraying the bureau and all the people he’d worked with.

The price was too much. He shook his head.

“No?” Crutch acted astonished.

“Never,” Linderman said.

“But this is Danni…”

“I’ll find her some other way. Thanks for the tips.”

Crutch went stiff in his chair. Linderman sensed that he was about to be attacked. Walking backward, he reached behind his back and grabbed the door knob, not taking his eyes off Crutch for a second. The serial killer shot him a murderous look.

“You’ll let your daughter suffer?” Crutch asked.

“Shut up,” Linderman said.

“I failed to mention something about her arrangement. Perhaps this will change your mind. During the day, Danni cooks and cleans. At night, she becomes a fuck-doll.”

“A what? ”

“A sex slave. You know what that is, don’t you?”

“Yes,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Your daughter fucked Skell, and she is also fucking this rich foreigner. You don’t want that to keep going on, do you?”

It was Linderman’s worst nightmare. Six years of rage boiled to the surface, and he felt the walls of the chaplain’s study close around him, the room’s furniture shifting as if on quicksand. He fixed his gaze on the painting of the Virgin Mary, hoping her divine grace would give him ballast. Her patient smile had turned into a hideous grin.

The next thing he knew, his hands were around Crutch’s throat, squeezing so hard that the inmate’s eyeballs popped out of his head like a cartoon character. Lifting Crutch out of his chair, he snapped his head against the desk, his blood flying across the room in a glorious splash of red. He did not stop until the corpse was mangled beyond recognition.

“Deal, or no deal?” Crutch asked.

Linderman blinked. Crutch was back in his chair, looking no worse for wear. Nothing had happened. His mind was playing tricks on him like it had earlier in the day. His killing Crutch had been an hallucination.

Only Linderman knew that this time was different. He had seen the blackness that had invaded his soul, and would allow him to kill a man with his bare hands.

He’d fallen into the abyss.

Grabbing the knob, Linderman jerked the door open.

“Get this son-of-a-bitch out of here,” he said.

The pair of guards rushed into the study. Within seconds, they had Crutch out of his chair, and were hustling him out the door. Linderman avoided making eye contact with Crutch as he flew past.

“Skell told me how lovely her snatch was,” Crutch called over his shoulder.

A guard smacked Crutch in the back of the head.

“Shut your filthy mouth,” the guard warned.

Jenkins was waiting in the hall with a concerned look on his face. Linderman left the chapel with the warden glued to his side. He was trying to make sense of what had happened. The images of him killing Crutch had been too real.

“What did he want?” Jenkins asked.

“He tried to blackmail me,” Linderman said.

“With what?”

“My daughter was abducted six years ago by Simon Skell. Crutch knows what happened to her. He offered to give me the information at a later date if I backed off.”

“I didn’t know that about your daughter. I’m sorry. What did you tell him?”

Linderman stopped and gave Jenkins a look that left no doubt in the warden’s mind what his response had been.