The Naturalist (The Naturalist #1)(55)



Usually when cops kill unarmed people, it’s because they perceive some threat as they make physical contact, or they get scared and squeeze the trigger, not realizing how much pressure they’re already placing on it.

Some cops carry guns with heavy triggers, like five or six pounds, in order to make it more difficult to accidentally fire. Gunther strikes me as a two-pound trigger. He’s more than confident he’ll know how to handle himself in a critical situation. The next few seconds may determine that.

I remain still as he walks around me, but I keep talking. “There’s something unusual about the wounds. I think there’s more here . . .”

He reaches up and grabs my right wrist and pulls it behind me. I don’t resist, knowing I’ll get the muzzle of his gun pushed into my kidney.

I try a different tactic, using his name and a shared goal.

“Gunther, we can solve this thing.”

The handcuff squeezes tight around my wrist.

Damn it. He’s not going to be talked into letting me go free out here. Gunther is fully committed. His fury is being channeled into what he was trained to do.

He grabs my left wrist and pulls it behind me. As he does this, he holsters his weapon, confident that he can draw it before I could theoretically take the upper hand physically.

Now is my time to act. What happens in the next few seconds is going to determine my fate.

The cuffs are tightened again until they dig into the flesh of my wrists. He places one hand on my shoulder and another on the chain and presses me flat against the back wall.

I have to go out on a limb here. I noticed something about Chelsea when I examined her and something about Gunther. They both have the same wide forehead and hair color. Faint, but present. The kind of trait you might see a lot at a family picnic.

Gunther’s reaction is more than a genetic protection reaction.

It was an overreaction. It was shame.

My only way out is by going down.

“I know what you did.”

He pauses for a half second as he pats me down.

“I won’t tell anyone.”

He stands up and hovers near the back of my head. I can feel his breath on my neck.

“What the fuck do you think you know?”

I don’t have any reason to think he had anything to do with killing Chelsea—although I have a strong suspicion he knows he had something to do with why she became so vulnerable.

This is what I have to attack.

“I know she’s your cousin.”

He slaps a palm into my back, slamming me into the wall. “Keep your mouth shut.”

This isn’t a denial. His reaction is an admission that he’s ashamed of his connection. If saying that caused this reaction, what I’m about to say is going to really get a response.

I brace myself, then say it . . .

“I know you fucked her.”

BAM! He kicks the toe of his boot into the back of my knee, and I stumble. A fraction of a second later, he grabs my neck and trips me over his leg.

I hit the concrete on the side, and it hurts like hell. But this isn’t enough. It’s not nearly enough.

“You fucked your cousin and turned her into a whore.”

“Shut the fuck up!” BAM! He lands a kick into the middle of my back.

I writhe in pain and see his bright-red face. There’s a bulging vein on his forehead—the same forehead he shares with Chelsea.

I do some quick math.

“How old was your cousin when you fucked her? Fourteen? Fifteen?”

“You think you’re funny?” He reaches down and slaps me in the face. The impact is so hard I can feel it in my jaw.

But it’s still not enough.

I fake a smile and grin up at him, giving him a target for his fury.

“I mean, was it mainly the charge of fucking a family member, or do you just like fucking little girls?”

The first punch to my head makes me see purple and red.

The second makes my neck give way, and I crack my skull on the pavement.

My last beating was from amateurs. This one is from a trained sadist.

The next blow is so hard I don’t even feel it when I pass out.





CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR


INPATIENT

I know I’m in a hospital. When, where, and why are a mystery to me. A female doctor with chestnut-colored hair, pink glasses, and faint wrinkles on a tan face is shining a light in my eyes.

She’s got a pretty face, but she elicits a feeling of vulnerability from me that’s stronger than any sense of attraction. I want her to mother me, which I suspect she’s been doing.

“Theo? Are you awake?”

She says something else to me, but my face erupts into an explosion of pain as I try to speak.

“Don’t say anything. We have your jaw wired shut.”

I glance down at my wrists to see if either of them is chained to the bed.

They’re not.

This doesn’t mean that I’m not under arrest, but their presence would have been absolute confirmation that I was.

I look around the room, trying to see where I am.

“This is Blue Lake Hospital,” the doctor says. “You’ve been here two days. You’re lucky Officer Gunther found you. He’ll be coming by later to get a statement about the men who attacked you.”

So that’s the story, and Gunther will be coming by to make sure that I stick to it.

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