A Necessary Evil(58)

The rotund, dark-skinned man with the sweaty bald head stood. He looked like he was going to keel over any minute from an overdose of nerves. His hands were shaking, and he stuttered when he spoke. “I-I was thinking…per-perhaps I could dose him with a l-large amount of S-S-Succinylcholine. It’s a v-very strong paralytic drug. He would be c-completely unable to move, b-but he could feel absolutely everything we put him through. Y-you could take your t-time.”

“It’s brilliant!” Franklin exclaimed with a wide grin.

Collin felt dizzy, and he had to fight back the bile that rose in his throat. The thought of being paralyzed but feeling himself being slowly tortured to death almost made him pass out.

“You’re a sick bastard,” Collin said to Franklin.

“I’m not sick, Collin. I just believe that you should be punished appropriately and according to what you deserve. Any eye for an eye, and all that.”

“That’s not even what the Bible really says,” Collin said, frustrated with Franklin’s ignorance.

But Franklin ignored Collin and turned back to the jury. “Any other ideas? Oliver, how about you?”

The lawyer stood, fidgeting with the hem of his tweed jacket. “Well, sir, I agree with you. This man should be punished according to his sins. But while all these ideas are creative and compelling, I’m afraid I have to disagree with those who would draw out this man’s death and make it last longer than necessary.”

Franklin didn’t look pleased. “Really? Why is that, Mr. Martin?”

“Don’t get me wrong. He deserves to suffer for what he’s done. And I would personally love to watch him suffer.” Franklin smiled again. “But I think it would be prudent to remind you, sir, that the police are trying to find you and stop you before you can punish this man. The longer you take to kill him, the higher the odds that detective will track you down and save him.”

Franklin stroked his chin and furrowed his brow. “I do see your point. So, what do you suggest, then?”

“I suggest we put an end to this trial, put a bullet in his head, and then dispose of his body in a way no one would ever be able to find even a trace of him.”

“And how would we do that?”

“You keep a farm in your ex-wife’s name, right?”

“Yes. Susan runs the horse farm out on Old Paris Pike.”

“And you also have cows and pigs on the property, right?”

“That’s true. What are you thinking, Oliver?”

“I’m thinking we feed him to the pigs.”

A collective gasp went up from the jury members. They all turned to Oliver, who was wringing his hands and wearing a proud look on his face. Collin wasn’t sure whether to be relieved that he might not have to suffer a long and drawn out death or be horrified at the thought of pigs devouring every last piece of his body. He felt like he was going to be sick, and sweat beaded on his forehead.

“That is just absolutely brilliant!” Franklin shouted as he strode quickly over to where Oliver was standing with outstretched arms. He grabbed the old attorney’s face with both hands and planted a kiss square on his forehead. “You see? This is why I keep you around. I would never have thought about the pigs!”

“Yes, well,” Oliver said, looking somewhat embarrassed by Franklin’s sudden outpouring of affection and praise, “we still have to figure out the best way to, um, well, to carry out his sentence. The pigs are just a means of, er, disposal.”

“All right, then,” Franklin said, looking around at the others. “Why don’t we put it to a vote? All in favor of Lynx’s suggestion that we castrate him, raise your hands.”

Only Lynx’s arm shot straight up into the air. After a few seconds, she looked around and sheepishly lowered her hand.

“Okay, then, how about Alex’s idea? Who thinks we should burn him alive?”

As Franklin ran through all the morbid ways they could kill Collin, he shuddered in his seat. Each idea had been more frightening than the one before, and none of them was a way Collin had ever imagined he might leave this earth. He looked out through the window near the ceiling and listened intently for the muffled sound of police car sirens, but his heart sank when he heard none.

“Then, it’s decided.” Collin’s attention was brought back to the jury and to Franklin, who was now walking back toward where Collin was tied to the chair, praying in vain for salvation that would never come. “You not listening? Well, then, I’ll repeat myself. The jury has voted, and it’s been decided that you will be drugged with whatever drug the good doc has suggested, and I’m going to take my time killing you, slowly, methodically, and piece, by piece, by piece.” He knelt so his eyes were level with Collin’s. “You’re going to die almost exactly like your old man. How does that make you feel?”

“Go to hell,” Collin said. Though he was an educated man and there were many eloquent and clever things he could easily have come up with to say, in that moment, those were the only few words that seemed appropriate.

Franklin patted Collin on the knee and stood. “After you, son. After you.”





Chapter 29




Kurt



With his service weapon at the ready, Detective Jamison communicated with his partner, Detective Howard, via a series of rapid hand gestures. Once Howard had given him the all clear, Kurt pushed his way through the front door of the warehouse on High Street. When he’d crashed through the door, he scanned the expanse of the open warehouse floor in a defensive crouch with his arms extended and his finger on the trigger, just in case Frankie decided he’d rather go down in a blaze of glory.