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“Excellent,” Callan said, leaning in. She felt his breath faintly stir her hair. “I can contact the local businesses and residential buildings to get permission to access their footage. Hopefully, they’ll be cooperative once we explain it’s part of an active investigation.”
Roseline nodded. “I figured you’d have better success smoothing any ruffled feathers in person. Tactfully, of course,” she added. “If they were nervous at the bar, others will be nervous at the other locations.”
He laughed. “I’ll do my best to pour on the polite charm.” His smile faded. “But I do want you there with me, Roseline. You may see details I would bypass, especially about technology.”
Warmth swelled in her chest at his words and how he used her first name. After years of struggling to prove her worth to belittling colleagues, Callan’s sincerity and respect were a balm. “I appreciate that,” she said but emphatically. “I want us to work closely through every step if we’re going to crack this.”
Roseline was in the midst of walking Callan through some technology she could use to help determine the last location on the cell phone data when a blaring alert flashed across all her monitors, making them both jump.
“No, no way, Callan…” Roseline gasped, a chill slithering down her spine. She frantically opened the notification software she’d created that continually scraped the deepest recesses of the internet for any hint of the Game Master’s presence.
According to the alert now blaring from every speaker, his phantom broadcast had just popped up again out of nowhere, undetected until this very second. There was no doubt about what that signified.
The Game Master was back online, his deadly theater about to resume. How he had managed to contrive a new murder spectacle so soon after Garofalo, she had no clue. But clearly, their time had just run out. His twisted games were escalating, and innocent lives hung in the balance.
“We’re too late,” Roseline whispered, dread pooling in her gut like icy sludge. “He’s taken someone else…”
But who had been trapped in the abyss of the Game Master?
CHAPTER SEVEN
The air in Roseline’s office snapped with nervous energy as she and Callan stared intently at her computer screen while she found the hidden live stream URL.
Roseline’s palms were sweaty, her heart racing while anticipating the vile actions of the sadistic killer they were after. What macabre hell waited for the Game Master’s latest prisoner?
When the live stream notification popped up, Roseline tensed, gripping the arms of her chair. This was the moment they had been dreading yet also anticipating. The Game Master had set his stage and opened the curtains to once again torture criminals.
Roseline’s eyes met Callan’s, filled with steely determination. In his azure irises, she glimpsed the trauma they would soon share in pursuing this merciless villain. But she also saw courage—a refusal to let this madness continue poisoning their city.
With a deep breath, she clicked to open the video feed. Roseline steeled herself as the blurry image came into focus, barely processing the dank room illuminated in sickly fluorescent lighting before her eyes locked onto the hulking figure crumpled onto a metal chair. His hands and feet were bound with zip-ties, and a burlap sack obscured his face. The expensive watch and gold pinky ring possibly marked him as someone of prominence in New Orleans’ underworld, now reduced to a pawn in the Game Master’s twisted schemes.
Roseline clenched her jaw as the modulated voice purred off-screen, “Welcome, friends. Please forgive my theatricality, but the show must go on.”
The Game Master glided into the frame and yanked the sack off the captive’s head, revealing Enzo DeLuca—a high-ranking member of the Marcello crime family. She recognized him as one witness to a case she worked on maybe one year ago. DeLuca blinked his bleary eyes against the harsh light, a large purple welt marring his temple and a thin trail of blood oozing from one of his nostrils.
“W-what the hell is this? Do you know who I am?” DeLuca blustered, straining against the narrow plastic cutting into his wrists.
The Game Master chuckled, the warped sound sending a chill down Roseline’s spine. “But of course. Your reputation precedes you, Mr. DeLuca. And your great wealth. Which is why I know my viewers will appreciate our special time together.”
On the side of the screen, she could see a live chat box flooded with vile suggestions and comments from the spectral audience greedily taking in this abhorrent spectacle. Once again, a laptop had been positioned so that the psycho could see the suggestions as they rolled in.
Roseline’s heart raced as she watched the Game Master’s twisted smile grow wider as he read the sickening suggestions from his laptop. She could feel the bile rising in her throat, but she shook her head, focusing on the task at hand.
The Game Master subjected DeLuca to unimaginable pain, tearing apart his chest with a rusty pair of pliers while he screamed in agony. Now, he was bound to the chair, his wrists and ankles secured with thick plastic cuffs that cut into his flesh with every passing second.
“You see how much your viewers enjoy this, don’t you, Mr. DeLuca?” the Game Master sneered, holding up the laptop for DeLuca to see. “Their suggestions are as cruel as they are imaginative.”
DeLuca’s eyes widened in terror as he took in the sickening messages scrolling across the screen. “Please... stop... this... it’s too much...” He struggled against his bonds, but it was futile. The Game Master merely laughed maniacally and continued reading aloud.
“Someone suggests using a blowtorch to melt off your face,” he said with a sadistic twist in his voice. “Others want to see you drown in a vat of acid.” DeLuca’s eyes filled with tears of fear and desperation as he tried to escape the horrors unfolding before him.
Roseline felt a surge of anger at the sickening game being played out before her eyes. She knew she had to act fast if she wanted to save DeLuca and put an end to this monstrous crime spree once and for all. She glanced over at Callan, who was pacing angrily in her office.
“We have to stop this now,” Roseline whispered urgently, her voice barely audible above the cacophony of sounds coming from DeLuca’s tortured screams and the sinister laughter of the Game Master echoing through the room. “Callan, get ready to move.”
Roseline felt revulsion roil in her gut as she read the grotesque suggestions. The toxic excitement and inhumanity on display made her stomach churn. She fought the urge to turn away from the horror this virtual crowd was so eager to see unleashed.
Beside her, Roseline sensed Callan’s discomfort. She reached out and touched the back of his hand, conveying her disgust and sadness. He grimaced before glancing at her and giving her a thin smile.
