Henry Jefferson steadied himself with a deep breath before placing the phone back to his ear.

“Hello, it’s me. I’m looking for someone.”

Twenty minutes later, Assistant Cooper hurried in, reporting, “Sir, she’s still not talking.”

Slipping on his black finger cots, Henry descended in the elevator to the basement chamber.

In the dimly lit chamber, Cynthia’s moans reverberated, her whimpering filled with agony.

Henry pulled a slender hook needle ...