‘Are you ready to see your mother, Rico?’
20
Rico Herrera broke down, sobbing in relief. Being mildly dehydrated, he could produce only a few tears.
Marie smiled. ‘I brought you something to drink,’ she said, and placed the bottle of Gatorade on the floor, directly in his line of vision. ‘Look.’
She stepped back, shining the beam of the flashlight on the bottle. Rico stared at it. He swallowed dryly several times, but didn’t dare move without permission.
‘Go ahead, honey. You’ve suffered enough.’
Rico rolled on to his stomach. Having little food and almost no water for the past three days, he crawled to conserve his strength.
Marie smiled when his grimy, shaky hand clutched the bottle. He nearly cried out in triumph.
Rico cracked open the cap. He had started to roll on to his back when she said, ‘You need to sit up and drink it… Here, let me help you… There, isn’t that better? Now drink it slowly, or you’ll throw it up… That’s better. Take your time.’
All the while Rico sipped it, crying, Marie knelt behind him, rubbing his bony back and reassuring him that his mother was waiting upstairs to take him home. When Rico tilted his head back to drain the last of the liquid, she wrapped a rope around his throat.
Rico didn’t have the strength to mount a fight. When his arms went limp, she kept twisting the rope. She had to make sure his brain was deprived of oxygen for just a few more seconds.
Marie had no intention of killing him. She just needed him unconscious. Strangling required more effort, but it was much easier than trying to administer an injection. She had tried that with the first few, and every time they saw the needle it triggered some sort of adrenalin reserve. They fought back and screamed. She wanted them to sit still; too much of the sedative in their weakened condition could potentially stop the heart.
Finally, Rico slumped to the floor. She didn’t require Brandon’s help with this part; she could easily lift Rico herself.
Cradling Rico in her arms, Marie stood and carried him out of the room, the length of rope tapping against her thigh.
21
Gary Corrigan had changed into medical scrubs and wore green neoprene surgical gloves that ran all the way up his forearms. A clear plastic shield protected his face.
Marie placed Rico on the operating table. She removed the rope, along with his clothing, and stepped back to give Corrigan room to work.
Corrigan rubbed a swab of surgical spirit against the crook of Rico Herrera’s elbow. Next he inserted the IV, taped the line down and then began scrubbing and washing away the filth and grime covering the teenager’s bare chest. Water sluiced over the edges of the operating table and ran into the floor drains.
Next came the Betatine. Corrigan swabbed the iodine-coloured liquid over Rico’s chest, picked up a scalpel and made what he called a ‘midline incision’. It started at the suprasternal notch and ended at the pubis. Corrigan had studied a new and rapid technique for multiple organ harvesting that allowed the organs to be cooled in situ using cold intra-aortic and intraportal infusates. The surgery would take no longer than sixty minutes.
Marie found it difficult to stand still. A fevered rush always gripped her at this stage. There was so much to do, so many decisions to make. She needed to maintain patience and calm in the midst of this exciting yet draining emotional storm.
Harvesting organs to fund their operation had been Brandon’s brainchild. He had come up with the idea early on, when their financial resources were extremely limited, back when they were storing the children in the small basement of their home. With the families scattered all over the country, they could afford to take only one child at a time. Driving to a particular state and staying at hotels, the endless days spent watching the family and waiting for the perfect moment to abduct the child and disappear without getting caught — all of this required a significant investment of capital, and it had to be paid in cash because money didn’t leave a visible trail.
And the costs didn’t end once the child was locked away. There was the constant feeding for months and sometimes years at a time. The vitamins, fruit and vegetables needed to keep the child reasonably healthy. The constant monitoring to make sure the child didn’t escape, the unexpected illnesses that always cropped up — colds and stomach flus that required trips to the drugstore; infections that demanded antibiotics. The third child they abducted, Anthony Jacobs, had a life-threatening asthma condition that necessitated using the Internet to purchase enough inhalers to last an entire year.
Then came the return trips to abduct the parent. More costs, more time spent having to save up money, the maddening and seemingly endless waiting… until Brandon told her how they could sell organs to fund their operation. Unbeknownst to her, Brandon had been methodically researching the idea — and he had already made contact with an ‘organ broker’. This man was part of a global network consisting of other organ brokers who represented people who either wanted or needed to bypass the traditional organ waiting lists. Buyers were lined up all over the world, and they were willing to pay a premium, in cash — especially for young, healthy organs.
Brandon’s idea had proved to be extremely lucrative. They purchased the building of a former printing press, which allowed them to abduct and store multiple children and their parents for long periods of time. They paid off the loan for Washington Memorial Park, and Brandon lavished her with gifts. They could afford to do anything they wanted, anything in the world.
Marie inspected the coolers. There were five. Each one would house a separate organ — heart, lungs, liver, kidneys and pancreas. The Custodiol HTK solutions were ready. Everything appeared to be in order.
She glanced at her watch. It was almost noon. She checked Corrigan’s progress. Another forty minutes and the harvest would be finished. She could meet the buyers at one thirty. They had flown in last night. Right now they were staying at hotels near the airport, waiting for her call. Marie took out her phone.
Brandon walked back into the room. He joined her and, noticing the phone in her hand, said, ‘I already called the buyers.’
‘When?’
‘After I picked up Corrigan. Once he’s finished, you can head to the office. I know you’re anxious to get there.’
‘What about Ted?’ Ted Keller was the funeral home’s assistant director.
‘I sent Ted home for the day,’ Brandon said. ‘You’ll have the place all to yourself.’
This was Brandon’s way of apologizing for being such an idiot to her at the cemetery.
Tears stood in her eyes. Marie remembered her make-up and, not wanting the mascara to run, tilted her head back and blinked them away.
‘Thank you.’
She kissed him. Deeply.
Then Marie hugged him fiercely. She could see Corrigan removing Rico’s heart.
‘I love you.’
‘I love you too,’ Brandon said. ‘Come home as soon as you’re done.’
22
Marie rolled the gurney across the funeral home’s basement suite of dull white walls and grey linoleum flooring. The adrenalin rush from the past few hours had departed, leaving in its wake a bone-crushing exhaustion.
