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“Let my son go,” she says. “Please. He’s innocent.”
“You two are like an old record,” I snap. “If it didn’t work for Ilona’s mother, or Chris’s mother, or any of the others, what makes you think it will work for you? What makes you so special?”
I cross the room to Niklas and tear the tape from his mouth.
Then I return to Mattie, get out a utility knife, and use its razor-sharp blade to slit off her blouse and bra.
When I’m done I display her proudly to her son, Niklas. Then I press the blade to her breast and leer at the boy. “You love your mommy, don’t you?”
CHAPTER 125
NIKLAS BEGAN TO cry in pain and fear for Mattie. “Why are you doing this?”
Mattie felt more than humiliated, her own shame magnified by Niklas’s, and she understood why Falk’s methods had garnered confessions. She looked him up and down, spotted the excitement in Falk’s face, and the bulge in his slacks, and remembered what Genevieve the sex worker had told her.
Mattie turned livid and shouted, “Don’t show him anything, Niklas. He wants to see your fear. Don’t give it to him. No matter what happens. Don’t.”
Niklas hesitated, but then clamped his jaw tight and stared back at his mother, nodding with wide and glassy eyes.
My brave, brave little boy, Mattie thought.
Falk’s joy faded. He twisted his lips at Mattie as if she’d spoiled his fun. Then he shrugged. “That’s okay. I enjoy pain, too.”
He went around behind her and pulled hard on the rope.
The plastic restraints sawed into Mattie’s wrists and her shoulders popped as she was lifted off the floor.
The restraints cut her. She felt like her arms were going to dislocate from their sockets.
Mattie had never known such agony. She bit her lip not to scream, doing everything in her power not to show her pain. But finally, as if it were coming from another person, she heard an uncontrolled howl of rage burst from her throat.
When Falk came around in front of her, his eyes were lit up like a kid’s at an amusement park.
Mattie refused to look at him. Instead, she focused on Niklas, who was backed up against the wall, shaking and crying but trying to stop. “Mom.”
Mattie did not reply. Instead she took the rage burning in her and channeled it.
She arched and kicked at Falk. The tips of her shoes just missed his groin but hit him hard in his upper thigh.
He was somewhat shocked before he laughed with delight. “You’re only the second one to ever try that. Didn’t work the first time, either.”
Kicking at him had only damaged her wrists more. The pain was excruciating. She saw black spots dance before her eyes and thought she was going to pass out.
But then Falk went around behind her, released the rope, and lowered her until she stood on the floor, hands snugged up toward the beam.
“Mom, you’re bleeding!” Niklas cried.
Dazed, Mattie looked up. Blood trickled and oozed from her wounds.
When Falk came back around to face her, Mattie gasped, “You did this to the mothers at the slaughterhouse? Hanging them on meat hooks?”
“Got to have some way to move a carcass around.”
“I’m not a carcass.”
“You will be, soon enough.”
He gestured with the knife toward Niklas and then pressed the tip against her rib cage, just below her breast. “That’s how they’ll find you, your son, and Ilona. Hanging like carcasses.”
