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“The game’s gonna start pretty soon,” Thorpe complains. “I got money on the Pats.”
Mal chuckles at Thorpe’s whiny ass. “You’re feelin’ lucky today, eh man?”
It’s not until we drive down to the end of a gravel road that leads to nowhere but an open field that Thorpe finally starts to worry. “Hey, what are we doing out here?”
I put the truck in park, then grab the handle to open my door. “Get out of the car, Thorpe.”
Dante, Mal, and I are standing outside now, but Thorpe hasn’t moved. He doesn’t know what’s going on, but he knows enough to be afraid by now.
He squinches up his face in apprehension. “What the fuck, dude?”
“I said, get out of the goddamn car.”
I guess somewhere in his lizard brain, he thinks that staying put might give him some protection from the inevitable.
He thinks wrong.
I reach behind me, pull out my pistol. Point it at him. “Now.”
The sight of my gun breaks the spell. He stumbles out of the car so fast he loses his balance and falls to the ground. Scrambling to his feet, he lets out a high-pitched yelp. “What the fuck? What thefuck?” he screams.
“I think you know.”
“No, I don’t!” he pleads, eyes bulging. “Jesus, Rogue, we’ve been friends for years! Whatever you think I’ve done, you’ve got it wrong! I —”
Mal and Dante have moved to either side of Thorpe, ready so that when he turns to run, they catch him easily. They each take hold of an arm, and Mal yanks his up and pulls, forcing Thorpe to his knees. He screams again and starts to cry. A dark patch appears at his crotch.
I take a few steps forward. “Look at me, you son of a bitch. Do it. Now.”
Sobbing, Thorpe looks up. I point the gun at his head. He shrinks back, but Mal grabs his hair and forces him to stay in position.
“Here’s the deal.” My voice is arctic. “I think you know exactly what I’ve brought you here about. It’s thirteen years too late, but it’s time for you to own up to it.”
“What? What the fuck, man?”
I press the barrel of the gun to his forehead. “You say ‘what the fuck’ one more time, I’ll blow your fucking head off. You got that?”
Whimpering, he nods. Seconds later, the smell of shit wafts up to my nostrils.
“Ah, jeez,” Dante mutters in disgust.
“I want to hear you say it,” I tell Thorpe. “All of it. The only fucking chance you got of getting out of this alive is if you tell me what you did. All of it. Nothing left out.”
Thorpe’s eyes start to pinball back and forth crazily. I can see his brain trying to do the calculations in his head. He doesn’t believe I’ll let him live if he talks. But he also knows damn well I’ll kill him if he doesn’t.
“What do you want to know?” he whispers.
“You’re gonna tell me everything about how you raped Rory. Aurora Wilkins. And you’re gonna tell me why.”
“I didn’t! I swear!”
A wave of fury washes over me. I clock him in the face with the pistol. He cries out, and blood starts flowing out of his mouth and nose. I’m pretty sure I broke at least a couple of teeth.
“You lie again, this is over. They’ll be the last words you ever say.”
I nod at Dante, who reaches into his back pocket, pulling out a plastic bag. He waves it in front of Thorpe. “You see this?”
Thorpe nods dumbly.
