Prez, himself, gives a quick grin, then grows serious. “He’ll take a moment to get here. He can catch up on the proceedings when he arrives.” He takes in a deep breath as though he’s mentally preparing himself. “Okay. No point wasting time. Let’s go talk to the fucker again.”
To say Owen looks sorry for himself is an understatement. Curtis, now the only prospect guarding him—he certainly doesn’t need more—is idly flicking through a bike parts book as the strung-up man seems to give off almost constant low-level groans. His limp dick still offends me just as much as it had earlier on today, but I can’t summon up one ounce of sympathy, particularly now we’ve got evidence of some other games he might like to play.
He doesn’t even seem to be aware that we’ve walked in on him.
Salem jerks his chin toward me, and I walk up and kick one of Owen’s legs from under him. The chains rattle and pull at his arms as he tries to find purchase with his feet again. When he gets his balance, he opens red raw eyes and squints at me.
“Please… please. Let me go.”
“Not yet.” I phrase my words so he can find a glimmer of hope in them, even though I know the only release he’s going to find is death. The answers to my questions will determine the level of pain that will entail.
Pulling over a wooden chair, I rest my foot on the seat and fold my arms over the back. “Tell me again about the kind of home movies you star in Owen?”
“Some soft porn. Some like with Alicia.”
Shaking my head, I let him know I’m not satisfied. “Not a fuckin’ chance of releasing you unless you give me more, Owen.”
“We’ve got Devon’s PC,” Token puts in, winking out of Owen’s sight.
It wouldn’t do any harm stringing Owen along. If he knows nothing is stored there, he’ll be admitting to being deeper embroiled in this mess than he’s hitherto indicated.
Owen, if possible, pales. “There were girls, drunk, strung up and off their asses.” When I give him a gimme more gesture, he admits, “GBH was used, I’m pretty certain of that.”
“And you fucked them, even though they were probably unwilling?”
“Unwilling, unresponsive.” Owen actually shudders. “Once, he got me to fuck a dead girl.”
Jesus H Christ. “Dead? He kill her?”
“No, man. No. I’d never condone murder. She was homeless, died on the streets of an overdose, and Devon happened to find her.”
That he could get it up for an unresponsive woman is one thing. But a woman not even breathing? Cold, presumably to the touch?
“Fuck, man.” Niran, who must have arrived at some point during the proceedings, can’t restrain himself. “How the fuck could you do that?”
“It was like a blow-up doll, you know, it didn’t mean anything. I got in, got off, job done. I got paid, man. Good fuckin’ money, especially for something unusual like that.”
“And what else?” I suddenly thunder. “What fuckin’ else, Owen? What age were the girls?”
“Alicia’s age or older. She was one of my youngest.”
“You sure of that?” Salem’s voice sounds beside me. He’s tossing his knife from hand to hand.
“You watch your movies when they’re finished?”
Owen closes his eyes then opens them again. “Sometimes.”
“Online? Or do you work with Devon to edit them?”
“Devon never lets anyone help with that. But he does great work, splicing and editing. What he produces is top notch.”
“So you watch online,” Token speaks from beside me. Then he snaps, “Website details, your login and password.”
Owen doesn’t say a word. Not until Salem grabs a foot and expertly slices off his little toe, then, for a moment, all he can do is scream. When he gets his breath back, he says “I only know Devon’s personal site. Not where they end up after he finishes them.” It’s something to start with at least, I think as he churns out the details Token was after.
“I’m in,” Token says after a while. “Hold on while I send these details to Utah. They can investigate the back end.”
Bones is looking over Token’s shoulder, avidly scanning the screen. “Christ, it looks like Owen here was doing his own investigation of the back end in this one.”
“Whatcha got?” Lost walks closer.
“From a quick scan, Prez, shit that needs to be kept underground. But whether the other stuff is on here or not, fuck knows. I can’t tell immediately.”
“There another level you need a password for?”
Owen looks confused by the question, so I expand, “Underage girls, little kids.”
He shakes his head. “There’s nothing like that. Devon wouldn’t…”
Devon’s a man who either kills or conveniently finds a dead girl and makes her a posthumous star in a movie. I’d say there wasn’t much Devon wouldn’t do.
“Come on, fucker,” Salem taunts him. “I’ll cut off another toe then keep going until you tell. Pretty fucking hard walking without any toes I’m told.”
“If there is something, I wouldn’t know,” Owen screams.
Prez cocks his eyebrow at me, as I shake my head and run my hand over my face. Damn it, but it seems the fucker’s telling the truth. One thing I’ve learned is that he’s scared of pain. He also has no doubt Salem will carry out his threat.
I decide to change tack. “Devon wasn’t at his house. Have you any idea where he might go? Any particular haunts or locations he uses? Studios he might rent?”
Owen has tears rolling down his face. “I’d tell you if I knew. You’re going to hurt me whether or not I keep my mouth closed. Devon chooses different locations. As far as I know, he doesn’t go to the same place twice unless it’s for
