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Demonic Whispers	By : AngelAnastasia Category: 1 through F > Criminal Minds Views: 574 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds, nor the characters from it. I do not own Funny Games, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
- 8
Morgan had never been more scared in his entire life than when he had to watch Reid, the baby of their team and one of his best friends, get raped by some psychopath. Reid couldn't even lift up his body under Anthony's weight, and when the creep finally finished with the boy genius, Reid could barely move. Reid crawled near the couch, just out of Morgan's sight, but Morgan could barely breathe. He still couldn't believe what just happened. This couldn't be real. It couldn't be. Just a few hours ago, they were out getting some book that Reid just had to have. It was supposed to be a quiet night. What went wrong? How had getting some damned book led to Reid getting raped? He was sure the kid never even had a sexual experience before this. They never really talked about it before, but Reid was still very awkward around the ladies and his idea of a perfect night was probably him surrounded by books and a fireplace so that meant his first sexual experience was pure violence. Morgan saw spots of blood on Reid's thighs and bruising on his hips before Reid moved out of his line of vision, and Morgan knew he would never forgive himself. Everybody would tell him that none of this was his fault. He couldn't have predicted giving a kid some cash would result in this, but he should have known better. He was supposed to protect Reid. Reid knew how to handle a gun, but he wasn't a fighter. He relied on his brain power more than anything, but that wasn't going to save him from a rapist. Only Morgan could do that, but Morgan wasn't there for him.
Morgan was barely even aware of begging for their freedom once Anthony and Michael were finished. He knew he was saying something because Anthony started talking about lunch, but his focus was just on Reid. How could somebody have wanted to hurt Reid like that? Reid was probably one of the last people in the world to deserve to be beaten and abused. Morgan would have gladly taken his place.
"Pay attention!" Michael shouted. Morgan looked up and saw Michael kicking someone in front of the couch. Morgan brought himself out of his thoughts and started pulling at his stubborn restraints again. Whoever Michael kicked didn't make a sound, and it got so quiet in the room after the kicks that Morgan could almost hear his own heart beating.
"That wouldn't have happened if he listened," Anthony said calmly. "I'll see you boys after my lunch. My stomach is seriously about to start growling."
Morgan didn't say one word as they left. Anthony walked out first, and Michael was the one who locked the door after he left. Morgan was so afraid that saying something else would result in Peter or Reid getting hit again. As soon as the rapists were gone, Peter weakly stood up. He was extremely pale, and there was no hiding the dark bruises forming on his inner thighs. The boy's left cheek had a nasty red mark, and his chest and stomach were covered in angry welts and black bruises. The worst was still his knees which Morgan could barely look at. There was too much blood, but Peter wasn't complaining. Peter didn't say a word, but his face was wet with tears. The tears on his cheeks hurt Morgan most of all because Morgan couldn't save him. Not yet anyway. Peter was at the mercy of their captors just like Morgan was. Morgan felt sick to his stomach about what they had to go through and what they were still going through. Morgan didn't see Reid trying to join them which only meant Reid was the one that was attacked.
"He kicked Reid? How is he? Reid? Can you hear me?" Morgan asked. Reid didn't respond.
Peter lowered himself in front of the couch. He put one of his hands under Reid's nose and the other on Reid's chest.
"He's still breathing," Peter said. "His eye is going to be really swollen though." Peter's voice was cracking with every other word. It was too easy for Morgan to just forget that Reid wasn't the only one that went through this hell. Peter suffered through a vicious rape too and he was even younger than Reid. All the counseling in the world wouldn't take away the nightmares from the night. What the rapists did would stick with the boys for the rest of their lives.
"Can you help me get out of this rope?" Morgan asked. Morgan's wrists were sore from pulling at the ropes. He was sure he could get them off if he kept trying, but he was exhausted both mentally and physically. He needed to be helping a lot more than he was.
Peter nodded and hurried over to Morgan. The water finally dried off of Peter's arms and chest, but he was still shivering. Morgan felt terrible. Peter struggled with the ropes. He wasn't as skilled at taking out knots as Morgan was, but the kid finally got them undone. Morgan didn't wait for Peter to announce it. As soon as he felt loose, he crawled over to where Reid was. Reid's big eyes were closed, but Peter was right. He was still breathing. Reid's left eye was already a deep shade of purple, and Morgan could just see a red sore underneath Reid's hair. Morgan took a deep breath and moved the hair out of the way. The sore didn't look as bad as the black eye did, but it was going to hurt when he woke up. He had a deep slash across one of his shoulders, and it looked like several of his toes were broken, but the worst of all it was the blood spots and bruises on his thighs.
"Oh Reid," Morgan said more to himself than anyone else. They needed to get out of there. Morgan didn't care if he ever saw the light of day again himself, but Peter and Reid needed to go to the hospital. Peter stumbled his way over to where the window was, and he took his boxers from the window. They were still wet, but Peter took them and went back over to where Morgan was sitting with Reid. The kid collapsed just by the coffee table. He looked like he was close to crying again as he weakly lifted up his legs. "Let me help you kid."
Morgan scooted over to where Peter was, and let the kid use him to balance himself. Morgan got to see the scalded knees and calves up front, but he couldn't look at them long without cringing. He was sure they hurt like hell, and he was confident that the left kneecap was broken. It was swelling faster than Morgan imagined. It was already double the size of his other knee. Morgan held the boxers open, and Peter stepped into them slowly. Once that small task was accomplished, he kept his feet grounded and managed to pull the underwear up his legs. Morgan wasn't going to remind him that the wet clothing wasn't going to do anything to help him not get sicker. Peter needed to be covered up. He helped Peter back down so the poor kid wouldn't have to get on his knees again. Peter sat down next to Reid with his knees up to his chest and stared at the bookcase.
"Do you think you could break one of those shelves and whack it against one of those guys when they come back?" Peter asked.
"One of us would have to be able to stand for more than 5 minutes for that to happen," Morgan said softly. It was a good idea, but they should have thought of attacking the unsubs long before any of this happened. Peter and Reid could still stand up, but not for long periods of time and neither one of them were in any shape to attack Anthony or Michael. Morgan didn't want to admit it, but their only hope of getting out of there was a rescue or an escape.
"I can try," Peter said, his expression unreadable. "I don't want to just sit here and wait for them to kill me. Next time they do something, we might not be able to fight back at all. We might have a chance if we do it now. They aren't expecting us to."
"We need to wait until Reid wakes up," Morgan finally said. He wasn't against Peter's idea. He wanted to do that from the very beginning, but now didn't seem like the time. Morgan didn't want to remind Peter how easily their abductors overtook him, how easily things could go wrong. If they were going to plan to fight back, they needed a solid plan. They needed Reid.
Peter nodded, and silently ripped a piece of cloth off his boxers. He folded the clothing, and gently dabbed it on Reid's bloody shoulder. The bleeding needed to stop. Morgan pulled himself back towards the window and went back to work maybe the tiny hole in the glass into a bigger hole. Somebody had to be walking around, and that person would hear their screams. They couldn't be the only ones in this damn area.
"What hurts the worst?" Morgan asked. He stopped what he was doing and looked over next to the kid. Peter wasn't crying, but he was still trembling. "Your knees or the cut on your stomach? Or somewhere else?"
"Somewhere else," Peter said. The kid avoided eye contact and kept busy with Reid's shoulder wound. He knew Peter wasn't going to talk about the rape with Morgan, and neither would Reid when the boy genius woke up.
"How old is your sister?" Morgan asked changing the subject. It was good to keep the kid talking, and Morgan was a little curious about who exactly Peter was.
"She's 10," Peter said.
"Big age difference," Morgan said. "You're 21 years old, right?"
Peter nodded and smiled a little. "I was a Florida vacation," Peter said. "Clara was planned, but it's cool. I love her. I don't think mom and dad are going to have any more kids, and so it's just going to be and Clara in the long run. Friends can come and go, but not your siblings. We won't ever be as close as like brothers or something who are closer in age, but I'll always be her big brother."
Morgan couldn't agree more. He would always be there for his sisters. He didn't have any brothers of his own, but Reid was closer to him than any real brother could have been.
"That's where I was, when they found me," Peter choked out. His tears were returning. "I was picking her up from dance class. Mom was going to be late, and I didn't want her sitting out there alone. Would they have taken her if I wasn't there?"
"There's no telling kid," Morgan said gently. "I haven't been able to figure out why we were abducted in the first place unless Reid was right, and it was just opportunity." If that was true, they definitely would have taken Peter's little sister. There was no need to tell Peter that.
"I'm glad they took me then," Peter said. "I'm glad that I was picking her up and I got there early so they saw me first. I wouldn't change a thing because I know Clara is safe. I'd let them do whatever they want to me as long as she was safe."
Peter was a lot closer with his little sister than Morgan imagined. Morgan glanced at the television and saw a reporter speaking in front of the dance class. He didn't see Peter's family or J.J., but he assumed they were nearby. He wondered if J.J. would suggest taking the little girl home. He didn't know how late it was, but Clara should be home. Even if they were rescued that very moment, Clara didn't need to be seeing her brother in the awful condition he was in. Morgan didn't think his parents would want to know exactly what those monsters did to their only son.
"Am I going to see my sister again?" Peter asked. The kid finally made eye contact with Morgan. He looked scared.
"I'm going to get you home kid, don't worry." Morgan said. He was sure the team was getting closer to finding them. He listened to hear J.J.'s voice on the television, but it was on another commercial. Peter was nodding when he dropped the now bloody cloth. Morgan didn't know if Peter believed him or not, but Morgan was going to get him out of there. All of them.
"He's waking up," Peter said nervously. Reid's eyes cracked open, and his head fell over to the side. Morgan could hear Reid's breathing start to speed up as he remembered his situation, and Morgan started dragging himself back over to the couch. Peter put one of his hands on Reid's good shoulder, and Reid looked over at Peter's face.
"Where'd they go?" Reid asked looking over. He sat himself straighter against the couch and looked towards the door. He was close to having a panic attack.
"They left," Morgan told him. "To have their lunch or something. I don't know when they are coming back."
Reid licked his lips, but he didn't relax back on the bottom of the couch. He turned over to face Peter. "I'm so sorry. I really thought that if he got me, they would leave you alone. I didn't think they would hurt you too. I'm so sorry Peter."
"It wasn't your fault," Peter said showing more maturity than most boys his age would. "Are you okay?"
"Just breathe," Morgan reminded Reid. Morgan stopped moving towards the boys and tossed Reid's boxers over to them. He was sure that Reid would be a lot calmer once he was covered up. Peter caught them. "They are still damp, but I'm sure you want them on."
Reid looked grateful, and Peter carefully helped Reid get back into his boxers. Reid was able to put his feet through the holes but relied on Peter to pull them up his legs. Once they were on, Peter helped Reid back to the carpet. Morgan was thankful that kid was with them. He never wanted Peter in that kind of situation, but Peter was helping them a lot more than he even knew. Reid looked a lot more comfortable once he was covered again. His breathing slowed down and his body started to relax. Peter never left his side.
"What if they want to do it again?" Peter asked after a short moment of silence. Morgan had to restrain himself from punching the chair in front of him. He didn't want to scare the boys, but anyone who could hurt Peter and Reid like that needed to die. There wasn't any question about it. They needed to die, and Morgan wanted to be the one to do it. The world didn't need any more filth like that hanging around.
"They won't," Morgan said. He hoped the others believed his words because he certainly didn't. If the unsubs wanted to do it again, there was very little he could do to stop them. Reid's eyes told him though that Reid could see the truth behind his words. There was little in trying to hide anything from the boy genius. They knew each other too well, but Reid didn't tell the boy.
"What's the plan when they come back?" Peter asked. Reid's black eye looked terrible, and Morgan couldn't stop looking at his bloody shoulder. Peter had done his best to stop the bleeding, but he needed stitches.
"Don't draw attention to yourselves," Morgan said. He knew that was easier said than done, especially when their captors had already shown special interest in Reid and Peter. "Peter, would you mind coming over here? Maybe you can get the window further open than I could or something."
Morgan wasn't even sure the boy was going to listen at first. It was clear that Peter didn't like the idea of leaving Reid, but he did as he was told. He walked over to the giant window and was slipping his slender arms underneath the glass to lift it up more. Morgan was pretty sure the window wasn't going to budge any more, but he just wanted to see how Reid was. He crawled over to the younger man and sat down next to him. Reid was still shivering, probably from the wet hair, but he wasn't trembling as bad as he was. Morgan wanted to give Reid the jeans he was wearing, but even if he could get the material over his broken leg, they wouldn't come anywhere close to fitting Reid.
"How are you feeling kid?" Morgan asked softly. Reid pulled his bony legs up to his chest, and Morgan tried not looking at the bloody shoulder. He was sure that it hurt like hell.
"I'm okay," Reid said quietly. Morgan knew this wasn't the truth. It couldn't be. Nobody could just be okay after going through what Peter and Reid did.
"Then look at me," Morgan told him. Reid had been looking everywhere but Morgan their entire conversation. Reid could lie all he wanted through his words, but he couldn't hide what he was feeling in his eyes. Reid turned to face him, and for a moment, Reid gave him the illusion that everything really was alright. He looked confident, but that confidence was lost when Morgan looked deeper into the kid's big eyes. His lips were curving down, and his eyes were filling with tears. Morgan wrapped his arms around Reid, and Reid rested his head on Morgan's shoulders. The boy genius was trembling all over.
"Ssshh," Morgan soothed. "I'm here."
"It really hurt," Reid whispered.
Morgan could have stayed there all-night keeping Reid safe in his arms. He wouldn't let those psychopaths hurt him or Peter again, but Reid was the one who broke the hug. Reid wiped away a few tears by rubbing his cheeks with his good shoulder, and looked over where Peter was sitting by the window. Peter acted like he hadn't been watching them, but Morgan knew that Peter heard all of it.
"I'll be ready when they come back," Morgan said loudly. "They haven't done much to me yet so whatever they are planning next, it will be done to me." He wanted to try and relax the boys, but both of them still looked like nervous wrecks. Peter moved over to the bookcase and started looking through some of the books.
"Only 9% of rape victims in the United States are male," Reid said more to himself than anyone else. Peter looked up from the book he was holding, and Reid looked close to crying all over again.
Morgan didn't know how to respond to that. Only Reid would know an exact statistic like that, but even the statistics were probably wrong. Males were less likely to come forward with stories of rape because they are ashamed something like that could happen to them. It could happen to anyone regardless of age or gender.
"I think this is a picture of her," Peter told them. "Tatiana. The girl who lived here. I think this is her." He put the book down back on the shelf but kept a photograph in his hands. He walked over to them, and handed the picture to Morgan as he sat down next to them. Just like Reid, Peter was still trembling.
Morgan only saw the dead woman on the floor for a few minutes, but the photo in his hands did resemble her. She was tall with a thin stature and a pretty smile. She was standing next to a couple that was probably her parents and another girl about her age. It was a family photo.
"This was probably a family cabin," Reid said. "She looks to be in her early 20s, and even if she was rich, this cabin is too big for just one person."
"Maybe she was coming out her to meet her boyfriend," Morgan pondered. Valentine's Day was coming up, and a lot of college kids dreamed of having some romantic weekend tucked away in some cabin with their significant other.
"Either way, she wasn't planning on being alone," Reid said. "It's not going to be long before the person she was going to meet shows up here."
Morgan agreed, but that didn't necessarily mean their rescue. If it was Tatiana's boyfriend that was coming, their captors could easily take him down without much planning. If her parents and sister showed up though, they would have more of a chance.
"You don't think they already killed her boyfriend?" Peter asked. He looked worried to even be asking the question.
Morgan put a comforting hand on Peter's shoulder, but the kid recoiled at his touch. Morgan had to keep reminding himself that he was dealing with rape victims. The last thing they needed was somebody else touching them. Peter didn't seem aware that he did that.
"I think if they killed her boyfriend or her parents, they would be gloating about it," Morgan told him. "They are very proud of their crimes."
Peter nodded and looked down. "We can't sit around here waiting though," Morgan continued. "What if her parents got held up doing something else or what if her boyfriend wasn't supposed to come for another week?" If those guys were planning on killing them before morning, they didn't have much time to sit around and hope for rescue.
"I don't think any one of us could get away even if they held the front door open," Reid said. "You can't walk, and I would get lost in about a minute. We wouldn't be able to last long out there without jackets and shoes anyway."
"There's probably a phone somewhere," Peter said. "This is a house, and even though Tatiana had a cell phone, there had to be a land line. Right?"
Morgan didn't know. It seemed like landlines were becoming rarer and rarer, but that did seem like their best option.
"How could we look for it?" Reid said. Morgan hated seeing the kid like this with his hands behind his back huddled in front of the couch. He was scared, and for once, Morgan was scared too. He hardly ever found himself in situations like this, and if those guys came back with guns, what could Morgan possibly do to protect Reid and Peter?
"Maybe one of them will forget to lock the door," Peter suggested.
As if on cue, their conversation was interrupted with the sound of the door unlocking. Peter and Reid both seemed to push themselves even further against the couch, and Morgan scooted in front of them. He really hoped this time around the abuse would be focused on him. He didn't know how much more the others could take.
"Hope you guys are hungry," Anthony said as he came into the room toast in his hands. Michael diligently locked the door behind him. He was holding what looked like a cup of water.
Anthony circled around the couch and sat on the floor right in front of them. "Morgan Freeman, please sit next to the others. It will be hard to feed them or give them a drink with you blocking them. I don't think that's too much to ask."
"I'm not hungry," Peter said quietly.
"No one asked you," Anthony said sharply. "I'm not against tying you back up again so please do what I ask and line up."
They weren't holding any weapons, unless one of them had a gun or knife in their pockets, but their focus seemed on the meal. Morgan didn't see any harm in sitting next to the others. He scooted back next to Reid keeping the boy genius in the middle. If something was poisoned, it would be Morgan who had it first. He didn't think any of it would be dangerous to each though. That seemed against their style but was almost impossible to predict what these two were going to do next and Morgan didn't like that.
Hotch hated not being in control. He hated not knowing where Morgan and Reid were, and he hated not knowing what exactly was happening to them. The victims that Garcia was able to find earlier did sound like something their unsubs could do, but only one body was ever found, and that woman died a horrific death. Hotch couldn't even imagine something like that happening to Morgan or Reid. The girl that came forward at the dance studio did help a lot. They now had the photograph from the security camera, and they had an artist working on the unsubs' pictures to show the reporters. J.J. and Prentiss chose to stay at the studio in case any other witnesses were willing to talk to them, and J.J. was talking to the reporters almost every hour. This was an active case, and every minute gone by was a minute lost. J.J. had both of Boyle's parents talk to the reporters about what a great kid their only son was, and Nelson's mother stood close to J.J. The nurse's mother could barely get two words in about her daughter. Hotch couldn't blame her. It was heart wrenching for anyone to lose a child, and this woman was being asked to talk to the media about her. Boyle's father was more on the quiet side, but the boy's mother talked willingly with anyone who asked her a question. Hotch guessed it was only a matter of time before Boyle's little sister would try begging with the unsubs to return her brother.
The unsubs were both young. It was harder to see the one in the passenger seat, but the guy driving was under 30 years old. Hotch knew that it didn't mean much, but he was really praying that the pleading mothers would have some kind of effect on them. Hotch could barely watch the mothers without wanting to just give the poor women their children back. Hotch couldn't even promise them that they would see their kids again, but he was doing the best he could.
They were still at the station. Rossi was pacing near one of the telephones, and Garcia was sitting in another room with the artist. Hotch was staring at the maps hoping that one of the locations they selected would scream out at him. Morgan and Reid were waiting for their rescue. Morgan was probably doing his best to keep the boy genius from harm, but they've already been missing for what seemed like half of the night. They needed to come home.
"We can't sit around waiting for a phone call," Rossi said. Hotch agreed. The unsubs weren't going to call them demanding ransom for the release of the hostages. He wasn't even sure if they were watching the news or not. It was all just a guessing game since they didn't have a background of the unsubs or their previous victims.
"And we can't drive around knocking on doors asking people if they've seen the unsubs," Hotch said firmly.
"No, but we do have an idea of where they might be," Rossi argued. He stood up and went over to the map on the wall. "We don't have time to keep waiting. The guys who took Morgan and Reid abducted them fast. They drove up, grabbed them, and drove away so I think it's reasonable to think that whatever they plan to do with Morgan and Reid and the others will be done fast. I know that we can't get in a car ourselves and drive around, but we could send a SWAT team or something to these areas to look around. If the unsubs are young and foolish, just the idea of seeing a bunch of police officers might scare them away."
"Or make them kill the victims faster," Hotch said. He didn't even mean to say that out loud. Rossi didn't say anything for a moment. They could both hear Garcia saying something to the sketch artist, and the television was still loud in the next room with what sounded like Boyle's mother just begging the unsubs to let her son go.
"And waiting around here to see if another witness comes forward or that the unsubs will give us a friendly phone call isn't going to help Morgan and Reid either," Rossi said gently. "If we just sit here and wait, the unsubs will kill every single person they abducted. It's not even a question of if those two men will kill or not. We know they will kill the poor people they kidnapped, and I'm guessing it will be done by morning."
Hotch looked at the red circles on their map and sat down. He felt a headache coming on. He couldn't help but blame himself for what happened to Reid and Morgan. He knew there was absolutely nothing he could have done to prevent Reid from going to that bookstore, but he could have gone with Reid instead of Morgan. Maybe he could have made the unsubs stop before it went any further, but blaming himself wasn't going bring them home.
"Okay," Hotch finally said. Hotch stood back up and went over to the map. "Okay. There's two upper class neighborhoods, the trailer park, and the state park. From what we could see, it looked like both unsubs were nicely dressed so it didn't look like they would be heading out to spend a night in the state park. Let's get some teams over to look around in the bigger neighborhoods. They would be able to blend in there."
Rossi patted Hotch on the shoulder and went out to tell the sheriff. He stared at the phone with hatred in his heart for the people that would just kidnap innocent people like Morgan and Reid with plans of killing them. He pulled out his cell phone, but the screen was still black. No one tried calling him and he didn't miss any messages. Garcia ran in just as he was leaving the conference room holding up the drawings the artist finished. It looked like the artist drew the picture of the unsub driving perfectly. Eva had a good memory for sure. The drawing matched their blurry photograph, and Hotch got a better look at the fellow in the passenger seat with the oily hair and black eyes. Hotch didn't like his eyes.
Anthony and Michael finished their late dinners with time to spare. Michael was never the biggest conversationalist, but Anthony didn't mind. He enjoyed watching the crying mothers on the small television in the kitchen. He saw an older woman that he guessed was the mother of the dead and rotting nurse, and he saw a family that belonged to Peter. He didn't see any family members for the Morgan dude though. He assumed it was because that guy was with the FBI and the family had to remain private for their own protection, but what about the other guy? His family wasn't there begging for his safe return, and the media never even mentioned him even though he went missing at the same time as Morgan. Anthony didn't like secrets, especially when he was left out on them. There was something more going on with Tom Carey and Morgan, and Anthony was going to find out what it was. He didn't care if they were lovers or just best friends, but he would care if Carey was a cop. Or an agent.
He finished eating his sandwich and piled up the 3 extra pieces of toast they made. He covered the almost burned slices with plenty of butter, and Michael already had the cup of water in his hands. After their captives ate their lunch, he was going to find out exactly who Mr. Carey was. If Anthony was a betting man, which he wasn't, but if he was, he would guess Carey's real name was Reed. That's what it sounded like when the agent screamed. Anthony led the way back into the den room like he usually did and was pleased to find the boys already lined up nicely against the couch. The bulky agent was blocking the other two a little bit, but Anthony could see all three of them. Michael locked the door behind him, and they took their places in front of the guys.
Anthony was disappointed Carey and Peter both had their boxers back on. Peter's boxers looked torn near the edges, but both of their boxers were still wet. They still left very little to the imagination which made Anthony wonder why they bothered to put the underwear back on. Michael and himself already saw and touched everything. What more was there to hide? Carey had his knees up to the chest, and Peter was leaning more on his hip like he was still trying to keep himself covered.
"Looks like we're doing good boys," Anthony said smiling. "Hope you guys are hungry. "Morgan Freeman, please sit next to the others. It will be hard to feed them or give them a drink with you blocking them. I don't think that's too much to ask."
"And I brought water," Michael said.
"And he brought water," Anthony repeated.
"How do we know it isn't poisoned?" Morgan asked them.
Anthony lifted up a piece of toast for all of them to see and ripped off a tiny piece of it. He stuck it in his mouth and chewed it loudly. When he swallowed it, he looked at Michael who obediently took a sip of the water. He opened his mouth when he was done to show he wasn't hiding the water somewhere in his mouth. The agent didn't look happy, but he backed up against the others. He sat next to Carey, and the two of them shared a glance. Anthony didn't like it. There was definitely something those guys were hiding from him.
"Okay, Michael will give you guys the water. I got the food. So I guess since Michael is closest to Peter, lucky Petey gets the first drink. And since my good pal Morgan Freeman is closest to me, he gets to try out my wonderful toast." Michael sat down cross legged across from Peter and reached the cup of water towards him. Peter didn't take it. He kept glancing at Tom Carey. His lips were dried and cracked. Why didn't he just take the drink?
"I'm not thirsty," Peter said quietly.
"I won't force any of you to eat of course," Anthony said still smiling. "But if you refuse to eat, Petey or Carey will die. Won't tell you which one. It will be a surprise for me too, but don't think for a second that I wouldn't do it. We could play the numbers game again. Have them pick out a number and winner gets a bullet in their brain. Doesn't bother me one bit, but I will not have any of you go around wasting food in this house."
Morgan didn't even try to argue. He took the piece of toast that was offered to him and stuffed the entire slice in his mouth. Anthony didn't say a word. It wasn't poisoned. He didn't think Tatiana had any poisons lying around and he wasn't a cook. Besides, when he killed these idiots, he wanted to be in control. He didn't need some poison to do the job for him. Peter stole another glance at Carey, but he eventually took the water from Michael. Anthony could only imagine how thirsty these poor guys were.
It only took a second for the warm salty water to be in Peter's mouth before the young man spit it all out. Anthony respected that Peter leaned away from Michael when he spit, and Michael just started laughing. Carey scooted closer to Peter as if to shield him from Michael, but they weren't doing anything. Michael was just laughing, and Anthony was making sure that the federal agent swallowed his toast.
"What's wrong?" Carey asked him, his big eyes wide with fear.
"What did you give him?" the agent shouted. "Peter, are you okay? If you fucking put anything in that water..."
Peter nodded weakly. "It was salt water. Warm salt water."
Anthony paused for a second to let them understand what was really happening. "You are trying to make us thirstier," Morgan Freeman finally said.
"It's still just water," Anthony said. He tried to keep a cheery tone to his voice. There wasn't any need to scare the fellows any more than they already were. "And you still will drink your share unless you guys are up for another numbers game."
Peter and Carey looked devastated. Carey's lips were already cracked open and bleeding, and Peter kept his mouth open like he was hoping the cold air would take the salt off his tongue. Anthony didn't watch Michael add the salt to the water, but he didn't complain when he saw the empty salt container in the trash. He probably used the whole thing.
"Am I going to have to pick a new number?" Anthony asked. Peter didn't look back at Carey or Morgan to find out what he needed to do. He took the cup back from Michael and drank his part as fast as he could. Anthony respected that. Peter handed the cup back to Michael, and immediately leaned over and started coughing. Anthony didn't mind if the kid puked as long as the salt was in his already dehydrated system. Anthony scooted in front of Carey and handed out a piece of toast. Carey stared at the toast in front of him but didn't lean forward to take a bite. He couldn't take it like Morgan Freeman with his hands bound behind his back.
"I don't know if I can eat this," Carey complained. "My mouth is so dry."
"No problem," Michael said. "Just give me a second to think of a number."
Carey glared at him, opened his mouth, and took a bite of the toast. Carey's lips cracked in another spot on his lips, and Anthony couldn't have timed it better than when the cracked lip started bleeding on the toast. Carey didn't seem to notice as he forced the toast down his throat without much chewing involved, but just like Peter, his body couldn't handle it. He didn't even last 30 seconds before going into a coughing fit. Morgan patted him on the back, and Peter tried talking to him to calm him down, but it didn't work. Tom Carey threw up the toast right in front of Morgan. The agent didn't seem to mind. He barely noticed as he continued to pat his good buddy on the back. Anthony noticed though and was pissed that someone could just puke up perfectly good food. He slapped Carey across the cheek after he settled from the coughing fit, but he didn't say anything.
He switched positions with Michael and held out the last piece of toast for Peter. "Was Petey here just as tight as Tom Carey was?" he asked Michael.
"Probably tighter," Michael said laughing. "Come on. Drink up Mr. Carey. We have a long night ahead of us."
Anthony loved Carey's big eyes. They could never hide what that guy was feeling. He opened his mouth slightly, and Michael started pouring the saltwater in. He managed to keep the water down, but he did start gagging as soon as Michael took the cup away. Peter took the toast slice, but unlike the others, he took very small bites at a time. It was probably his own little tactic to keep the food down, but Anthony was never known for his patience. Michael was already giving the last of the water to Morgan, and Anthony was still playing around with the blondie idiot.
"You'll eat faster, or I might take Michael up on his little statement of you being tighter than Carey over there," Anthony said. He winked at Peter, and just like that, Peter started stuffing the food down his mouth. Anthony counted to 60 in his head to make sure that Peter wouldn't puke before he stood back up. When he felt confident, he stood up and took the empty cup that Michael was holding. That's when Peter started coughing, and just like Carey, he leaned over and puked up most of the toast. Anthony waited until he was done coughing his heart out, and then he threw the empty glass against the bookcase. It broke into several large pieces, and Carey scooted further back against the couch.
"I'm not cleaning that crap up," Anthony said firmly pointing at the two puke piles. Peter and Carey looked extremely pale. Anthony was totally right though. It was one of them that was going to die first this night. He was looking forward to finding out which one. Michael giggled.
"Anyway, I discovered a little problem that we should probably deal with now instead of later," Anthony said firmly. "I don't like being lied to. The sooner we deal with this, the easier it will be on all of us." Anthony pulled the gun out of his back pocket and smiled when he saw all 3 hostages scoot back even further. Michael giggled again.
"None of us are lying to you man," the agent told him. He shifted himself so he was a little bit in front of the others. Anthony appreciated his bravery.
"Then which one of the two behind you are Reed?" Anthony asked. Michael stepped beside him and put his hands behind his back. Michael wasn't carrying a gun, but he was never far from one of his favorite knives.
Morgan kept his mouth shut. Anthony knew which one Reed was. Michael knew which one Reed was. It was just up to the captives to tell the truth, but Anthony wasn't about to get lied to again. "So which one of you is Reed?"
Morgan moved fast. Using his arms, he pulled himself in front of Peter and Carey. It wouldn't do much good. If Anthony wanted to kill one of them, an FBI agent with a broken leg wasn't going to stop him. "I know. I know. It's human nature to lie. All of us lie every once in a while. Isn't that right Michael?"
Michael nodded. "It's just a tiny bit different when you choose to lie to people holding a gun in your face. So which one of you is Reed? We don't have all night."
Peter looked like he was about 12 years old and caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He was looking at the other guys, but he didn't offer a word. The agent held his head down as he remembered calling out the other guy's name.
"My name is Reid," the skinny guy in the middle almost whispered.
"Last name or nickname?" Anthony asked. He didn't expect them to lie anymore.
Reid glanced at the agent next to him, but the other man had nothing to say. "Last name. My name is Spencer Reid."
"And you both work in the same department of the FBI?" Anthony asked. Anthony truly had no idea if Reid and Morgan were just friends, but he felt like he was on a roll.
"Yes," Reid said quietly. Anthony could feel Michael staring at him, but all of this was coming as a surprise to him as well. That's why the media made no mention of this guy.
"So Morgan is your last name?" Anthony asked the darker agent. "Don't bother lying. Your wallet fell out of your pants while you were in the car. I'm not putting up with any more lies."
"Name is Derek Morgan," Morgan answered. "I was the one who told Reid to lie about his name. It wasn't his fault."
"And is your real name really Peter Boyle, or are you lying too?" Anthony asked the skinny kid.
"I'm not lying," Peter said quickly. "I think I left my license in the car or something, but I'm not lying about my name."
Anthony licked the outside of his lips. He never could have dreamed of abducting not one but two FBI agents. The odds are randomly abducting an agent had to be high. Getting 2 agents in one night seemed impossible. "So is that your little sister on the TV?" Anthony asked Peter without turning around.
Peter looked up at the television. His mouth dropped open when he saw the little girl on the screen still wearing her pink leotard and tights. Even the agents looked shaken when they saw the cute child in pigtails speaking to the cameras. Her hair was a light shade of brown, but they had similar facial features. Her eyes looked red from crying, but she was speaking to the reporters all on her own. Anthony wondered whose idea that was.
"Please, let my brother come home," the child said with a confident voice. 'He's a really good big brother and he helps me with my homework almost every night. I really miss him, and I don't think I'll have good dreams until Peter is back so, please let him go. Dad said you wouldn't even have to take him to the police. Just drop him off somewhere else. Peter is super smart so he could find his way home." The little girl turned around to make sure her parents were still there. She sniffled and looked back at the camera. "Please don't hurt him. Please don't hurt my big brother."
"What's her name?" Michael asked as a reporter took the spot where the child was standing.
Peter wouldn't even look at them. His wet bangs fell around his eyebrows, but they weren't dripping anymore. Anthony was still happy that both Peter and Reid were shivering. He liked the idea of turning the AC on, and he was thinking about turning it down even further. He loved seeing the guys trembling in their boxers. He wasn't planning on killing them that way, but it was so amusing to watch. He wished he had a camera.
"Clara," Peter said. His voice was cracking, and he looked even worse than he did during the rape. Anthony didn't have a sister. Neither did Michael so neither one of them knew exactly what this kid was going through, but it was interesting to watch. Anthony knew how badly the boy had to be hurting, but seeing his little sister crying just broke him more than Anthony ever could.
"Please guys, just let him go," Morgan begged. "He's just a kid. You have two federal agents. You don't need some kid too."
"Won't need any of you by morning," Anthony said. "You wanna know why?"
"Tell them why," Michael said. Michael had pulled the knife out from its hiding spot, and Agent Morgan was the first to spot the weapon. He tried scooting in front of his two buddies again.
"Cause all of you will be dead by morning," Anthony said. He ran his tongue over his lips and stepped closer to them. "Don't have any use for corpses. I mean, I read that some killers are totally into that kind of stuff. Wasn't Jeffrey Dahmer? He was into all kinds of weird crap, but ya. Dead bodies don't do anything for me. So after the three of you, I'm either sticking you in the backyard or just burning this house down. Your families can bury whatever is left of you after the fire is put out."
"It takes longer than you think for a human body to burn," Reid said.
Anthony glared at the skinny agent on the floor. "Okay, on your feet liar."
Reid obviously didn't mean to draw attention to himself, and the second Anthony called him out, it looked like he was trying to blend back into the couch.
"On your feet or I shoot Peter and send one of his ears to his precious little sister," Anthony said more firmly. They only had a few hours until sunrise, and they had a lot to get done.
"It was my fault, I told him to lie. Don't do anything to him," Morgan pleaded with him. Anthony was done talking though. He aimed his gun at Peter's forehead, and that finally got Reid on his feet. His bony legs were wobbly and could barely support his own weight. He probably wouldn't be able to stand more than a few minutes.
"Okay, now step away from that grossness you and blondie made on the floor," Anthony told them agent. This was trickier. Reid couldn't rely on his hands for balance, and he was only one wrong move away from falling face first on the floor. Peter helped him though. Peter held out his arms, and Reid used them to balance himself as he stepped over his mess.
Reid licked his cracked lips, probably from nerves, and looked Anthony right in the eye. He was bracing himself to be shot. Anthony could see that much, but when Anthony took another step towards him, Reid held his ground.
Anthony laughed and felt Michael step beside him. "You think I'm gonna shoot you. Don't you? I'm telling you. I hate liars. I despise liars, and I think anyone who could lie about their name isn't much better than the dirt outside, but I hate people who create liars even more." He gave them a second to absorb what he was saying before he aimed the gun at Morgan and fired.
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Demonic Whispers