Cleansing

Chapter Four

****
Two thousand hits. In only one day, Hanson’s torture had been viewed by two thousand people. The count was increasing at an impressive rate. With every passing minute, an average of twenty people opened the website page.

“This is terrible,” Judy said aloud at her desk while exploring the site. “Who knew there were so many sick people out there to watch this sort of stuff?”

She glanced away to see Ioki sit on the edge of her desk. He picked up a pencil to fiddle with in his hands, took one look at her desktop screen, and gave a depressed smile.

“Your turn to monitor what’s going on?” he asked.
She nodded solemnly. “I got a call from Fuller at four this morning telling me that we were going to start watching in shifts. I think it’s a good idea so that we can make sure not to miss anything that may be helpful to find him. But I don’t know how long I can. It’s so….And I think Doug will watch every minute of it, whether it’s his turn to or not. That can’t be healthy.”
“He’s really been taking this hard. He still feels guilty about that night.”
“I know. When are you supposed to be watching?”
“I think from five to nine this evening. I had between six and nine this morning. Thank god nothing happened. He was sleeping the whole time.”
“Booker tell you what they did to him last night?”
“No. What?”
“They took a sledgehammer to his ankles.”
Harry sighed and shook his head sadly. “Jesus. Any idea yet on who these guys could be? I already looked into ten kids Hanson’s arrested, and they’re all still in juvenile lock up.”
“My search came up short too. All of them are still in lock up as well or moved away.” She clicked on a link and her eyes widened in disbelief. “Oh my god. You’ll never believe this. Listen to these comments: ‘Rightful justice is served. I support you five whole-heartedly; He deserves to die for committing murder. Can’t wait until the time runs out; Cigarette burns would look nice on his body; Make him beg for food; Loved the foot crushing with the hammer; More broken bones, please.’ They go on and on down the page saying how much they enjoy watching them humiliate him and offer ideas of what to do to him. I can’t believe it.”
“Are you serious?”
“I wish I wasn’t.” She glanced up and said softly, “Look, there’s Doug.”

Ioki followed Judy’s gaze to see Doug sauntering in and going to his desk. From where they were sitting, he appeared like a total wreck. His hair was disheveled, clothes terribly mismatched as if he had gotten dressed in the dark, and his expression was completely devoid of any emotion, though strongly suggested that he was tired and ill. He acquired a phone book and flipped through the pages for several minutes before pausing on a page he seemed satisfied with.

“Wanna go ask?” Ioki questioned, receiving a nod from Judy.

They started across the room, but were stopped halfway by Fuller. In contrast to Doug’s sickly look, Fuller was lively and clearly not happy.

“Did you two catch the news this morning?” he inquired glumly.
The two cops simultaneously answered, “No.”
“Well, I’m sure you’ll see more on it tonight. The press has caught wind of Hanson’s ordeal and is ready to exploit it in newspapers and television, as usual. I’m not sure how they found out – I wouldn’t expect them to have gone searching for something like it online – and the phones are ringing off the hook with reporters wanting more. As a result, we’ve been asked to attend a press conference to answer questions and inform them of what’s going on. Not the best thing to do, in my opinion, but that’s what city council wants. You both are coming with me to it. I would have Penhall tag along as well, but I don’t think he’s prepared to publicly deal with what’s happening to his partner.”
Judy nodded understandingly. “Captain, I’m really worried about him. As far as I know, he’s done nothing but watch the video ever since we learned about the website.”
“I’ll have a talk with him later and find out what’s going on in his head. The conference is at five, and until then, don’t answer any questions over the phone about the case from anybody.”
“Five o’clock is when I’m supposed to start my ‘watch shift’,” Ioki stated plainly. “Who’s going to do it if I’m tagging along?”
“I’ll see if Booker or someone else can do it. It’ll be covered.”

With a firm nod, Fuller went into his office and shut the door, leaving Hoffs and Ioki to continue on to Doug. He was hanging up the phone when they arrived at his desk and scribbled something down on paper.

“What are you doing?” Hoffs asked kindly.
“Calling around to contractors to see if any new houses have been built recently with an unfinished basement. A nice-sized house considering how spacious the basement is,” he spoke distantly. “It has to be somewhere in the area. Can’t be too far.”
“What if it’s not a new house he’s in?”
“Doesn’t hurt to look into it.” He stood, stuffed the notepad he had written on in his coat pocket, and muttered, “I’m going to check out some now.”

Without another word or explanation, he was walking to the exit.

“Guess I should get back to keeping an eye on Tom,” Judy said dejectedly.
“I think I’m going to take Booker over to North High to talk to some kids – see if they know about anybody Tom and Doug didn’t get along with there.”
“Good idea.”

****
The neighborhood Doug came to was one of the more expensive ones in the city limits. The houses were large, and new foundations were being laid for more to be built. He trudged up the driveway of the first house on his right and knocked on the door. A girl who could be no older than twelve answered and stared up at Doug curiously. He smiled and said sweetly, “Hello. My name’s Doug and I’d like to ask your parents some questions. Are they home?”

****
The conversation with the young girl proved to be helpful. The house at the end of the block, she had said, on the left was unoccupied, though she had seen a few people running in and out on some evenings. When questioned about what these people looked like, she confirmed that they were male and tended to wear dark clothing. That was enough to peak Penhall’s interest immensely, but the statement that made him eager to run down the street and bust down the door was that the house did indeed have an unfinished basement.

He did not care about causing any property damage; he kicked the door open and went inside without hesitation. It was an odd feeling to see absolutely nothing in the rooms or on the walls as he wandered through. There was definitely nobody living there. He soon found the stairs, and very cautiously, he started down. His heart was thudding rampantly in his chest as hope burst within him. He prayed that he would find his partner here.

There were no signs of anybody having been there whatsoever.

“Damn it,” he verbalized, aggravated. “Damn it.”

The discovery was a troubling blow, dousing all optimism he had had just seconds ago. He sat on the bottom step and exhaled a heavy breath.

“Hey, uh, God?” he began uncomfortably, “I know I haven’t been to church in years and haven’t prayed in years, and….I curse and probably sin all the time, but I figured it couldn’t hurt to ask you for help, you know? Because I haven’t bothered you before. Listen, I, um….I’m asking you to help me find my partner, Tom. See, he’s missing, and this group of guys – they’re hurting him. Like, really badly hurting him. If there’s anyone to be sent to Hell, Lord, it’s them. Give me something, please. People always ask for signs, right? Or miracles? I need some now. He’ll die in twelve days if I don’t find him, so please help me. That’s all I ask….Amen.”

He closed his eyes for a moment and listened to the silence. It felt awkward to pray because he was not a religious man by any means, but he was willing to try anything. He was not sure if Tom was religious or not….Would it make a difference if he was? Would a response or a sign come quicker if Tom was?

Doug shook his head to eliminate the ridiculous thoughts and got to his feet. No better off than before, he left the house, wholly disappointed with the failure.

****
Doug breathed a sigh of thankfulness when he found his suspect of interest at the small bar where he had confronted him the first time. The only way he could get the kid to sit down and, hopefully, spill the beans was to buy him a bottle of beer. He did not care that he was breaking the law by supplying alcohol to a minor, even though he was a cop.

“So, what’s this about?” Danny asked with a quirked eyebrow and a smirk on his face.
“Tom,” Doug responded simply.
“Ah, so you haven’t found him yet?”
“Surely you, like so many others, have seen the website by now and know that he hasn’t been.”
“I have. Impressive stuff, is it not?” He grinned wickedly from the repulsive expression Doug bore.
“Why don’t you just cut the bull shit and start talking because I know you’re involved in this somehow.”
“How much is it worth to you?”
“I’ll give you a hundred dollars, cash, right now if you tell me what you know.”

To prove he was not lying, Doug reached into his coat pocket and fished out five twenty-dollar bills and set them on the table they were sitting at. Danny stared at it with mild interest for a brief period before returning his smug gaze to Doug.

“What’dya want to know?”
“What house is he in?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Where’s it located?”
“Can’t tell you.”
“What’s in the area around it?”
“A school.”
“What else?”
“Tracks.”
“What sort of tracks?”
“Won’t say.”

Doug inhaled and exhaled a deep breath in an attempt to ward off his growing frustration. “Are the five men that have him students?”
“Yep.”
“What grade?”
“Seniors.”
“What school do they go to?”
“North high.”
“And that’s how you know them?”
“Yep.”
“Did your brother know them?”
“Maybe, maybe not.”
“Give me a name. Any one of their names.”
“Can’t.”
“Give me an initial, then.”
“E.”
“First or last?”
“First.”

Doug fell quiet as he processed the new information. It was not much, but he was content with having something. He tried to think of any more questions he could ask that would have a solid answer, though nothing came to mind.

“Have you had him?”
The query made Doug focus once more on the teenager in front of him. “What do you mean?”
“Tom - Have you had sex with him?”
Doug’s face flushed red with anger, and he did his best to keep his voice steady and calm. “How is that any of your business?”
“You have. You slept with him.”
“So what if I have? It’s none of your god damn business, and I’m not going to sit here and talk about it with you.”
“Just wondering because if you hadn’t, you sure as hell wouldn’t want to bang him now, seeing as how he’s been putting out for five different guys.”
“You unbelievable son of a bitch,” Doug growled. It took all the restraint he could gather to prevent himself from lashing out to choke him.
“Consider yourself lucky,” Danny stated arrogantly as he stood up, “that you laid him before he became a filthy slut. They say he’s just as good a fuck as any girl: ready to have someone ride him at any time.”

That was it. Doug was on his feet and wasted no time at throwing the first punch.

****
There was no way to tell time from where he was kept underground. No clocks were hanging on the wall; no alarm clock around, and the two windows that looked out to ground level did not provide much of a view due to tall grass and weeds growing in front of it.

It was only because Tom was lying statuesque on the bed and felt somewhat brain-dead that he was able to focus on any sort of sound to be heard. He had merely acknowledged the silence up until then because his sense of hearing was not the one being put through hell at the moment, thus making it not too important; there was hardly a reason to focus on anything other than what he physically felt. Besides, it was all he could do; the pain consumed every part of his being.

He had not moved whatsoever from the position he had left himself in the night before. The sheet was still being held securely in his numb hands under his chin. It clung to his nude form from being soaked with water and was cold beyond all reason, but he had refused to let go. He felt a sense of safety under its protection and felt stupid for feeling such a thing. It was nothing but a piece of fabric, yet it was the single thing he could wrap himself in that would hide his entire body, unlike the pair of boxers he had-

And where had they gone? He had not paid attention to where they were tossed when they had been ripped off of him. That piece of fabric was undoubtedly important; he knew he could not get around with the sheet enveloping him since he had to crawl anywhere he wanted to go, and the cover would simply slide off along the way. From where he lay on his side, his sullen brown eyes scanned the floor in front of him. He spotted them and groaned in dismay. They were wadded up on the ground by the far right corner, which would be a long and grueling endeavor to get to because he could not simply walk to them.

“They’re killing me,” he whispered exasperatedly. “Damn it.”

He closed his eyes, but they opened wide not a minute later from the new sound that reached him. It was the music of chimes, and he gave a small smile from what it was. He remembered the tune from when he was no older than five, though he had forgotten who had taught it to him and why.

“Big Ben tells time,” he sang extraordinarily softly. “Up in the tower.”

He shifted to rest on his back and closed his eyes sleepily. The tones were quiet, somewhere off in the distance, but he could vaguely make out what time it was.

“One….Two….Three,” he counted aloud.

All fell silent, and it was not long before he was asleep once again.

****
It was two days later when Tom heard another distinct sound from the outside world. It started as a low grumble that gradually grew louder. A blaring horn soon sounded more than once, and he let his attention revert back to his recently dislocated shoulder after ascertaining what it was.

Doug could hear it too from where he sat transfixed in front of the computer. It was tremendously faint, but it was enough for him to guess what it was. He scribbled “train” next to the word “tracks” in his notepad, feeling a tiny amount of accomplishment from having another solid fact.

“A school, train tracks, and most likely in the North High district zone,” he mumbled as he studied his notes. “Has to be in a good neighborhood with other nice, big houses. Most likely unoccupied because who the hell would let five teenagers hold a cop hostage in a basement to torture? Surely none of their parents are that twisted to let them use their basements for it. Has to be somewhere else.”

His deductions were interrupted when he spotted the five captors come onto the screen. Tom had been huddled in the far right corner of the room and was now being lugged across the floor to be forced onto the bed.

“Oh god,” Doug sighed as Hanson’s wrists were placed into the cuffs hanging off the headboard posts. Watching his partner be raped was proving to be the most painful thing he had ever known. It made him sick to not be able to stop them.

Instead of removing the only clothing Hanson wore as he had expected them to, two of them sat on his legs, preventing him from moving in any way, two lit up cigarettes to smoke, and the fifth tormentor was reading a piece of paper in his hand. This change of events had Penhall mildly puzzled and extremely concerned. What were they planning?

Tom stared expectantly at the one he knew to be Danny and wanted to ask what they were going to do, though thought better of it. Whenever he talked he was usually rewarded with a fierce slap across the face.

“Looks like there’s several people who’d like to see this,” Danny stated indifferently as he skimmed the comments that he had printed off the website. “And in some of the same places as well. Most just ask for it in general. You guys can start whenever you like; I want the whole cartridge to be used.”

Andrew and Travis exchanged mischievous glances before taking their cigarettes between their fingers. Travis was first to put his out by pressing it into Tom’s skin. The chained officer emitted a pitiful moan from the searing sensation on his stomach. He attempted to writhe about and get away, but he could barely move at all. The side of his neck was suddenly being burned from Andrew pushing the glowing end of his tobacco stick against it. His head jerked to the left, causing the cigarette to drag on his skin and injure a new spot. He shut his eyes and clenched his teeth, fighting back tears and the urge to make any sort of noise brought on by the pain. It proved difficult, yet he succeeded and was thrilled when the spent cigarettes were discarded on the ground a couple of minutes later.

The celebration did not last long.

Another lit cigarette made contact with his shoulder, and one was making its mark on the left side of his chest soon after. When the following one pushed into his navel, he could not keep himself from crying out.

“Someone will be happy with that,” Danny muttered. “Let’s see where else people suggest.”
“Stop. Please,” Tom said in a trembling voice. “Please.”
“I’m sorry, Tommy,” the teen replied with feigned regret. “But there are still nineteen more to go.”

Hanson nearly screamed when Andrew pressed one onto his nipple. The five males laughed at his pain, and it fueled them to do more. His other areola was singed as well; eight burns colored his arms, four on each one; three cigs were put out on his hips; and his garment was slid down to his ankles to provide unhindered access to his most sensitive body parts. As the tip of a cigarette was squashed against his upper right calf, Derick pressed his to Hanson’s left testicle. Hanson virtually shrieked, tears streamed from his eyes, and he began to thrash about as much as he could. The feeling of burning cigarettes on his legs hardly registered due to the agony Derick caused with just one. He was breathing heavily and constantly whimpering now, not caring at all about them seeing him crumble and giving up trying to be strong.

The last cig was put to his tear streaked face on his right cheek. He laid utterly still in defeat as the searing anguish tore through him. His body was exhausted and blanketed with sweat and the freshly acquired wounds. He could not bear to look at himself, making him keep his eyes closed even now that they were done.

“You look gorgeous, Tom,” Danny snickered. “How do you feel?”
“Leave me alone,” Hanson whispered weakly. “Just go away. Please.”
“Alright. Whatever you want. But we need to do one more thing before we go.”

His arms dropped to the mattress from his wrists being freed from their bounds. Not permitting him any sort of time to recover, he was flung to the floor and taken into the bathroom. Once they entered, Hanson knew what they were planning on doing, and he used every ounce of energy and strength he possessed to fight them off. The result was that he was even more worn out than before.

After getting Hanson to his feet, which were grossly discolored and swollen, Eric turned on the shower to its most freezing temperature. Tom’s body reacted in much the same way it had the night before by shaking incessantly while he gasped for air. There was no denying that the cold water washing over his singed flesh felt rather amazing, though.

Thirty minutes passed before the shower ended; Hanson fell unconscious the second after the water was turned off.