CHAPTER TWELVE
Hernandez had been about to sip his coffee. But at those words he put it down and rested his hands, palms down, on the table.
“The man looked like he’d been there for days,” Jessie continued. “He was emaciated and had cuts—more like precise incisions—all over his body. He barely lifted his head when we came in. The woman didn’t look like she’d been there as long. She had fewer cuts and seemed less beaten down somehow. She still had enough energy to be terrified. I heard a muffled scream come from her direction and saw that something had been stuffed in both their mouths.”
Hernandez gulped hard, trying not to look overwhelmed.
“My mom began screaming,” Jessie said. “That’s when my dad covered her mouth with an ether-soaked rag. She got quiet and slumped into his arms. The
