Nathan tore another piece of tape from the roll and secured Fork’s mouth. Avoiding the empty soup cans and milk jugs on the floor, he strolled into the kitchen and started rummaging around. He opened cabinet doors, tossed pots and pans aside, and purposely made all kinds of noise. He found what he was looking for, set it on the front burner with an audible clang, and twisted the knob. The rapid clicking of the stove’s igniter was followed by the distinctive whoosh of the gas catching.

Harv said, “Uh-oh.”

He returned to the living room and winked at Knife.

“My cousins will kill me.”

“He’ll do it,” Harv said. “I’ve seen this before. It’s pretty bad. It fuses the denim to your skin.”

“They’ll kill me!”

“Your concern should be more immediate,” Harv said.

After a minute or so, the odor of burned cooking oil drifted into the room.

Knife jerked against the chair. “Son of a bitch. You motherfuckers.”

“Warming up nicely,” Nathan said.

“Son of a bitch, son of a bitch!”

“I’m going to tape your mouth. I just can’t stand the sound of a grown man screaming.” Harvey jammed the tape over Knife’s mouth and pulled his Predator from its ankle sheath.

Knife’s eyes grew.

“Hold still,” Harv said, and cut a slit in the tape.

The tape hissed with each breath Knife took.

Nathan returned into the kitchen. With the frying pan’s handle protected with a dish towel in one hand and a small cup of water in the other, he approached the bound men. Blue-gray smoke belched from the pan’s black surface.

Knife began whipping back and forth, nearly toppling his chair.

Nathan stood in front of Knife and held the pan six inches above his lap. He poured an ounce of water onto its flat surface. The liquid burst to life in a macabre dance of boiling rivulets that hissed and sizzled like tortured snakes.

* * *

Out in the van, Holly Simpson held her breath.

Chapter 7

Chapter  7

“Last chance,” Nathan said. “Are your cousins really worth it? Do you think they’d take this kind of pain for you?”

Knife shook his head.

“Are you ready to talk about the cabin?”

He closed his eyes and nodded.

Nathan tossed the pan aside. It simmered on the wet carpet, belching steam. He tore the tape from Knife’s mouth. “Well?”

“It’s three hours from here. Up Highway Seventy near Quincy.”

“What’s the address?”

“It don’t have an address.”

“You’re going to show us where it is. Is there anything else we should know about?”

“That’s it man, I swear. I don’t know nothing else.”