Part 9

The sound of low moaning instantly stopped the older man's pacing. He turned to the younger man who sat bound hand and foot to the chair, with his head slumped forward. He paused to evaluate his captive's condition, trying to determine if he was going to fully awaken this time. As the prisoner struggled to lift his chin from his chest, the older man's excitement grew. The next phase of his plan would begin soon.

*****

Tom Ryan woke to a badly throbbing head. He heard someone moaning and fought to follow the sound to consciousness. At the realization that he was the one doing the moaning, Tom struggled harder to clear the fog from his mind. He tried opening his eyes, but saw only darkness. The sensation of metal encircling both wrists told him he was handcuffed to something. A chair. He was sitting on a chair. His feet refused to move; his ankles were cuffed to the chair as well. Full awareness was returning, bringing with it a sharp pain in his right shoulder to accompany the throbbing in his head.

He searched his fuzzy thoughts for the last clear moment. He was in his apartment with the air conditioning guy. He recalled feeling lightheaded when he got up to let the man in and that the feeling hadn't gone away. Tom had been helping the man gather up his tools after he'd finished the repairs. There was a knock at the door. As he turned to go see who was there, he felt a sharp pain in his right shoulder. Startled, he turned back to see the repairman holding a bloody pocketknife. The burly repairman lunged at him; their momentum carried them into the kitchen. He remembered the pain exploding as the side of his head impacted the edge of the snack bar. There was nothing after that. Until now.

Dim light trailed into the room through the cracks around the door, but it wasn't enough to show him anything of his surroundings. Only the sound of footsteps on the other side of the room told him that he wasn't alone. Tom waited for the footsteps to approach, but they continued their distant pacing. "What the hell is going on here?" he finally demanded.

The voice belonging to the footsteps slowly advanced toward him as it spoke. "So you finally decided to join me. That was not a very polite way to greet your host, son. But I suppose you do have the right to know what is going to happen to you and why. Very well. You are here as punishment to your father for what he has done to my family. You will suffer a great deal, then you will die, just as my son did."

Tom was confused by his captor's explanation. "But my father never hurt anyone. He was a firefighter. He helped save people's lives, their homes, their businesses. What was it he did to your family?"

His answer was delivered simultaneously with a vicious backhand to the right side of Tom's face. "Stop it! You stop saying that! Your father is a cop and we both know it!" the voice raged. "My son is dead because of him! And now he's going to learn how it feels to lose his only son!"

Tom tried to reason with the enraged madman. "There must be some mistake. My dad is a retired firefighter from Boston. Now he runs his own restaurant there. He was never a cop. Please, just check it out."

He flinched as he saw the man's arm go up, expecting another attack. He heard a click and a bright light assaulted his eyes from overhead. Temporarily blinded, he didn't see the hand come away from the light and strike. This time the madman didn't stop with one blow. He continued his attack as he raged at the dazed detective. "Stop! That's a lie! I won't listen to your lies! He's a cop and he's right here in Palm Beach! He probably thought I'd never be able to find him when he came here from New York, but he was wrong! Now I'm finally going to get the justice I deserve. Harry Lipschitz is going to pay!"

Spots danced in front of Tom's eyes when the assault finally ceased. The madman's words finally registered in Tom's foggy brain. 'Oh, my God! He thinks Harry is my father!' As his mind faded in and out of focus, he felt the effects of the man's tirade. His right eye was rapidly swelling shut. Blood flowed freely down his chin from his nose. Tom remained silent, not daring to risk another attack. While awaiting his captor's next move, he surrendered to the darkness once more.

******

Harry spent most of the afternoon on the phone with old friends and contacts on the force in New York. With few exceptions, they were eager and willing to help in any way they could. Unfortunately, no one had any immediate answers to offer. All promised to look into it and get back to him as soon as possible. Harry's instincts were telling him that the longer he took to figure this out, the worse it would be for Tom. He turned his attention to the rhymes. He knew that they were the key pieces to solving the puzzle. Now all he had to do was get them to fit. He took an empty note pad and began to write. Georgie...Jack...boogie man...father...children. He tried different combinations of the words, hoping to jar something loose in his memory. After studying his handiwork for nearly half an hour, he slammed the note pad down on the desk in frustration. He could feel the answers on the edge of his consciousness, taunting him as they floated just beyond his reach.

*******************

Cassy had spent an equally frustrating afternoon trying to ID the body from Tom's apartment. The only thing the prints had told them was that it wasn't Tom. No one else had any record of them that she could find. She went through missing persons reports, hoping for, but not expecting a match of the description. She knew it was probably too early for a report to be filed, but she had to keep busy. She couldn't allow her mind to settle on the subject of what might be happening to her partner. Cassy contemplated going out to canvas Tom's neighborhood herself, but she knew Harry would follow through with his threat to have her badge if she left the building. She'd just have to wait for the reports from the teams that Harry had assigned.

She had found the name of the repair company that Tom had called and talked to the owner. He was trying to locate the employee that had been assigned the job, but so far he'd been unsuccessful. The employee had only worked there for two weeks. She took a description of the employee and the information on the company van he was assigned. They had an APB out, but neither had turned up yet. She looked over to the captain's office, wondering how he was holding up. The sound of the note pad slamming down on Harry's desk made her jump. Cassy decided it was a good time to share her frustration and give the Captain an update on all the dead ends she'd run into.

Harry looked up from his note pad when Cassy stuck her head inside the door. "Got a minute?"

"Sure. Anything on our John Doe?" He was hoping to avoid yet another query as to his mental state, especially from this particular officer. Answering required either having to actually examine said mental state or lying. Lying was easier, though he disliked it. He had to find Tom. It was the only thing that mattered now. The rest could wait.

Cassy watched as he took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes while she recited the litany of dead ends she'd run into. He obviously needed to get out of the office for a while. Though the thought of food nauseated her, she knew of only one way to get her captain to take a break. "Harry, how about getting something to eat with me. I missed lunch, and I really need to have something soon. And you did say that if I attempted to go anywhere without an armed escort, you'd have my badge. I really don't want to lose my badge, Harry." She smiled sweetly as she finished throwing his words from earlier that afternoon back in his face.

Harry sat momentarily stunned by her invitation. "How can you of all people possibly think of...eating..." He left the words hanging as it dawned on him what her real motivation was. He was about to send her packing when he realized that what she had said was actually the truth. Aside from the fading bruises, there was little color in her face. She was still recovering from her ordeal and skipping meals was not going to help her. Add in the strain from today, and it made a recipe for disaster. "Okay, you win. We leave in five minutes."

*********

When awareness returned, Tom was in darkness again. His right eye refused to open and the left side of his jaw was sore and swollen. The slightest movement of his head brought waves of dizziness and pain. He had no idea how much time had passed since he'd blacked out. Thoughts raced through his mind. Cassy had to be back from her sister's by now. Did she and Harry know he was missing yet? If they did know, how close were they to finding him? Was Cassy all right?

Fear surged as he heard footsteps approaching in the hallway. Hope mixed with the fear as he realized that there were two sets of footsteps. The doorknob slowly turned and the door swung open. Blinded by the light from the hallway, Tom couldn't tell who had entered the room. Hope faded, as silence was the only greeting from the visitors. It died completely as his vision returned to reveal the shape of the air conditioning man standing in the doorway. The other person appeared to also be a man, though younger and much thinner. The thinner man stepped around Mr. Air Conditioning and approached Tom's chair. Tom braced himself as the man's hand raised, not certain if he was reaching for the light or preparing to strike. Tom relaxed slightly at the sound of the light clicking on. He immediately tensed again, anticipating another assault, but instead the man took hold of Tom's head and examined his injuries. Ignoring Tom, he spoke to the older man. "Looks like the jaw could be broken. The gash on the side here definitely needs stitching. Shoulder oughta be stitched, too. Not much I can do about the eye."

"Do it," the air conditioning man replied.

Not liking what he was hearing, Tom decided to risk another attack and speak up. "Hey, wait a minute here. Don't I get a say in this?"

The older man approached. "I'm not going to punish you this time since we haven't gone over the rules yet. The first and most important rule is this: Never, ever speak unless spoken to. In the future, breaking this rule will result in severe punishment. Do you understand?" His tone was ice-cold.

"Yes," was the extent of Tom's answer.

"Good. Dr. Leonard here is going to fix you up a bit. Don't worry, he is a real MD. He just doesn't have his license anymore. If you behave yourself, you can have some water when he finishes. Are you thirsty?" The man actually sounded concerned now. Tom remained silent, trying not to think about why Dr. Leonard's license had been revoked. Infuriated, the madman roughly grabbed Tom by the chin. "I thought you said you understood! Speak when you are spoken to!"

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry," Tom managed to get out through the pain. "Yes, I'm thirsty." The grip on his chin loosened and then the hand fell away. Tom tensed again as his captor moved around to the back of the chair. The cuffs fell away and Tom was able to bring his hands forward. The pain and stiffness told him that he had indeed been here for a long while.

Dr. Leonard spoke again, this time to Tom. "I'm sorry, I don't have anything to deaden the area for the stitches. I'm afraid it's going to hurt, but try not to move too much. It will only make things worse."

Tom swallowed hard and nodded, realizing there was no way out. The madman was growing impatient. "Come on. Get on with it already." As the doctor started to work, Tom managed to keep from crying out in pain by squeezing his eyes tightly shut and gripping the sides of the chair until his hands were numb. When it was over, a small bottle of water was produced for Tom as promised. Tom was reluctant to drink, but his growing thirst won out over his concern. With hands still trembling, he downed half the bottle. He took the opportunity to get a good look at his prison for the first time in the light. The chair he occupied was the only piece of furniture aside from an old metal cot. There was a toilet and small sink in one corner of the room. Several minutes passed in silence before the older man spoke again. "Will you behave if I allow you to use the facilities?"

"Yeah, sure. Why not?" was Tom's sarcastic reply. He was rewarded with a sharp slap to his already swollen jaw.

"Mind your manners, boy. Show respect for your elders." Then he reached down to undo the restraints on Tom's ankles. It took Tom several attempts to stand, and Dr. Leonard had to assist him over to the facilities. After Tom finished, he started back toward the chair under his own power. Before he got halfway there, the room started to spin violently. He felt someone grab him as he started to fall, then the darkness claimed him once again.

End Part 9

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