The Hangman (Forgotten Files Book 3)
Mary Burton
PROLOGUE
Tuesday, August 15, 1992, 1:00 a.m.
Richmond, VA
“I should have been a Boy Scout,” he said as he secured the cord into a square knot between the woman’s small breasts. Standing back, he admired the slender red ropes wrapped in a figure-eight pattern around her torso.
As she watched him with nervous anticipation, he reached for the noose dangling above her, slipped it around her neck, and secured it tight until she coughed and gasped for air. He lifted his gaze to the woman’s sharp blue eyes. There was panic now. Still a faint desire to please. Confusion. Fear.
Good.
“This is pretend, right?” she rasped.
“I’m not playing, Rene,” he said. He softly caressed the underside of her chin.
“You said it would be fun.” Rene had been too proud to ask questions up until this point. She was streetwise, savvy; she didn’t want to show weakness. But now, her fears had gotten the better of her.
“You aren’t having fun?” he teased.
She closed her eyes and shook her head slowly as she tried to move her arms, now twisted and bound behind her back. “No.”
He traced his index finger around her erect nipples. “No? Do you want to stop?”
“Yes.”
He kissed her on the lips. “I don’t want to stop.”
Her eyes widened, curious and worried. “You paid for an hour. You said you wouldn’t hurt me.”
He shrugged as he stepped back. “I lied. You’re going to be here much longer. And it’s going to hurt.”
Alarm magnified uncertainty in her eyes. “Tell me you don’t mean it. Tell me this is part of the game.” When he didn’t do either, she said, “Stop. I don’t want to do this anymore. You said you’d stop if I asked.”
“You said you wanted a walk on the wild side,” he said. “And we’re just getting started.”
“I changed my mind.”
“Sorry, darling. No stopping now,” he said, his face inches from hers. “We have to play this game to the end. You see, this isn’t about your suffering or my fun. It’s about sending a message.”
Her nostrils flared as she pulled in a breath. “Message? What message?”
“You’re going to teach everyone about loyalty.”
“No one cares what I have to say.”
“You won’t be speaking in words. Your body will be talking. And the right people will understand the significance.”
“What people? The people I know don’t matter.”
“That’s not true. What about the people you shared all your secrets with?” he prompted.
“What secrets?”
“You’ve seen things you knew you shouldn’t have discussed. And yet you did.”
Her eyes watered as understanding bloomed. “I didn’t talk to anyone.”
He brushed a lock of brown hair from her eyes. “A little late for lying now, don’t you think?”
She closed her eyes. “I didn’t tell.”
“You told enough.” He reached for a rag.
Terror glinting in her eyes, she opened her mouth to scream, but he was ready with the balled rag as well as a strip of duct tape. She gagged as she glanced toward the shadows by the warehouse door where the red light of a video camera glowed.
“No one’s coming,” he said. “No one is going to help you.”
He pressed the tape over her mouth and sealed her lips closed. Soft whimpers rose in her throat as Rene violently shook her head and strained against her bindings. He watched her struggle for a minute until she slumped forward, winded and light-headed from the bindings and gag that restricted her breathing.
“The more you fight, the tighter the ropes get.” He moved behind the woman, drawing a fingertip along her bare shoulder. She flinched. Her breathing grew faster.
A sob rumbled deep in her throat. She shook her head, and the ropes tightened around her neck, forcing her to relax into a slump.
When she slowly and carefully raised her head again, his face was inches away. “I’m your whole world. I control everything. Should I end it now? Or prolong it?”
Her brows rose, but she’d already learned not to move or the ropes would punish.
“How much pain should I dole out? It’s all mine to decide.” He sucked in a breath; his power over her vitalized him. “This is such an exciting, heady rush in a world that can make a man feel powerless and unworthy.”
Tears glistened in her eyes.
He tugged on the rope above her head, testing the steadfastness of the beam above. “We don’t want the beam breaking under your weight. The whole point is to suspend you. It’s supposed to take time.”
She strained against her bindings as a scream caught in her throat.
He wound his fingers through her thick hair and tugged her head back so that they both could see the rafter above. “It took me time to find this place. I needed space and privacy. The beams look strong, but it never hurts to be careful.”
He released her head and moved to the rope lashed to a structural support pillar. He unknotted it and yanked once. Immediately she rose up on toes with nails painted a bright crimson. She was small-boned and petite. Lifting her was easier than he expected. She struggled to replant her weight back on the ground. Another tug on the rope and those pretty toes would flitter free.
A deep moan rumbled in her chest as she increased her struggles. The rope tightened. She gagged.
Groaning, she shook her head. A renewed bid for freedom tightened the noose around her neck and cut off most of her air. Shock and desperation widened her eyes. Her nostrils flared and her breasts heaved as she pulled in precious little oxygen.
Grinning, he yanked until she was suspended two feet off the ground. He wound the rope around the bracket screwed into the pillar. “Be a good girl, and you might live a little longer. It’s up to you.”
Tears dropped from her eyes as she mewed like a dying animal caught in a snare.
“I knew this was going to be interesting, but I had no idea I’d feel so euphoric.” His skin tingled, and his erection was rock hard.
Her kicks slowed. Breath gurgled in her chest.
“You’re as light as a feather,” he said. “Might take the bindings a little longer to do their job, but I’m in no rush. I’ve all night.”
As he stood back, he had to admire his work. He’d studied the knots carefully for months, practicing first on himself and then on women willing to surrender control.
Her eyes closed, and her body twitched. He counted to three, then lowered the rope until her feet touched the ground. She slumped forward and gasped. She hadn’t suffered enough yet.
But she would.
Her betrayal had earned her a slow death.