“You don’t want to arrest me. You want to kill me. You want to murder me. You want to brutalize me. You came here, alone, knowing you were walking into a trap, because you have fantasized about this moment for so long that you couldn’t refuse the bait. I’m the only thing left in your life that has meaning; I’m the only thing that you care about. Revenge. Emery Hazard, the hero, brought down to the same level as the murderers he hunts.”

“Turn off the lights,” Hazard said. “Let me see the little fucker who thinks he’s such a big deal.”

“Do you want me to tell you what I did to them? You saw the bodies, but you don’t know all of it. I’d strip a little bit of skin off Phil, and then I’d tell him I’d stop if he’d ask me to do it to Rory instead.”

“Shut up,” Hazard said.

“And when Phil wouldn’t play because he was just so fucking loyal, I’d change the game. I’d break a finger in a couple of places, let him scream and scream, and then I’d tell him if he didn’t ask me to do it again, I’d do it to Rory.” A shadow moved higher up, crossing the path of one of the spots, and Hazard tried to track it without moving his head. “And do you know what? That ancient piece of shit did it. He asked me to break his fucking finger so his precious fucking Rory wouldn’t have to be hurt. So I switched. Again. I had this knife.” The shadow came to a stop, leaning on the rail of a catwalk high in the warehouse. “I gave Rory a few scratches with it, just nickel-and-dime stuff on his arms, and then I told him I’d cut off his eyelids if he didn’t ask me to do it to Phil instead.” More of that shrill laughter, distorted with feedback, ran through the emptiness. It was a wild noise; it passed through Hazard like an electric storm. “And that little faggot asked me right off. I didn’t even have to get near his face. He begged me to do it to Phil. He begged me to do it to Phil instead. You know what I did?”

“You’re lying,” Hazard shouted. “This is what you do. You want to play mind games instead of face someone head on. Turn off these fucking lights and walk out where I can see you.”

“I did it over and over again, and every time, that miserable little shit begged me to do it to Phil instead. I finally got sick of hearing him say that. So I started doing it to him anyway. And he just begged more and more. And when it got really bad, when that little faggot was squealing on my knife, he wanted Phil to help him. Can you believe that? He’d turned on Phil so many times I’d lost count, and he still wanted Phil to help him. Jesus fucking Christ. Talk about pathetic.”