Autopsy Of A Mind - Chapter 156

The notepad was ready and Nash and I sat together, prepared to watch this horrifying tape.

“Don’t worry. They are already tracking the IP address from which the live stream is being done,” he said.

I sucked in a deep breath before pressing play.

“Hello there, bitch. Are you comfortable right now? I doubt it.” The man speaking sounded like he was in his late forties to early fifties. The rumble of his voice and the slow, almost amused way he addressed the captive female was disconcerting.

But the way he stopped and spoke made it sound like he had said this speech over and over again, but he still hadn’t lost the pleasure of telling his victim exactly what was happening.

This was the initiation.

So far, a woman in her twenties could be seen on the frame.

“Wrists and ankles chained, gagged, probably blindfolded. You are disoriented and scared too, probably. Perfectly normal… under the circumstances.”

I held my breath. Definitely scripted. The woman in the video was indeed chained and gagged, but the blindfold was not on. I quickly wrote down the first point of identifying the man.

“You’ll be fine. For a little while, at least. For now, you need to listen to every word I say. It is very relevant to your situation. I am going to tell you in detail why you have been kidnapped and what’s going to happen to you, and how long you will be here.”

“I don’t know the details of your capture because I don’t care about it. The information is based on my experience dealing with captives over several years. Now, you are here against your will. Totally helpless. And you don’t know what your future holds. You are either scared or pissed off. I know that you’ve already tried to get your wrists and ankles loose and know you can’t. And now you are waiting to see what is going to happen to you.”

I pressed pause.

“This isn’t a tape of his procedure, but he is saying it like he can’t change it,” I noted. “Like a ritual.”

Nash pressed his lips together. “The blasé way in which he speaks about the condition shows that he is desensitized to it and it is not the act of capturing or scoping out that excites him, but the acts performed during the capture,” he added sombrely.

Then the idea sparked in my head. “Have we identified the woman in the video yet?” I asked.

“Not yet. We are looking through missing person’s reports and social media to see if her face matches with anything of consequence, but nothing so far.”

“We could triangulate a location where the women are being held if we got some of the other victims,” I muttered.

“Let’s continue,” Nash prompted.

“Remember, our primary interest is in what you got between your legs.” I sucked in a harsh breath. So, crude. It was jarring listening to this in real-time. “You’re be taken thoroughly and repeatedly for all you are worth. You have been snatched and brought here to be trained and used as a sex slave. Sound kind of far out? Suppose it is to you general folk. But to us seasoned folks, it’s just another day.”

More than one person involved?

“One to lure in and the other initiates?” Nash asked.

“I think so. He seems like the kind of man who wants to be heard. He wants to be the one in control. He is speaking in an almost soothing voice, which means that he wants to be the only one they think is merciful.”

“The captor becomes the savior…” Nash trailed off.

“You are going to be kept and used by force. You are going to be kept naked and chained like an animal, to be used at my disposal.”

And it went on and on for an hour.

The things the man said were horrifying. But more horrifying was the comments on the live-stream. The people cheered him on, anticipating what would come next. What would happen to this one?

And the comments suggested that this speech was something they had heard a hundred times.

The camera shook slightly and we could figure that the man was holding it up in his hand. Maybe he was using his cellphone.

He mentioned the involvement of women. Maybe a wife or a girlfriend was involved.

“We need to see the others,” I whispered. Nash had his head in his hands and I knew he was trying to erase the words from his head.

“How are you not affected?” he asked, horrified.

“I am. I just expect this from people, so I know how to keep the vomit down. If you want to take on the other details, do so. I’ll try to figure out the location and the other women. I’ll send you screengrabs of all the women and you can run them and find out where they were last seen. And we can have some sort of idea in which locality this man operates.”

“You’re actually going to look through all of this?” Nash sounded like he was going to puke.

“Yes. I’ll find out more information on the kind of building we are looking for. If I don’t see through this, I don’t think anyone else will be able to stomach it,” I shrugged.

Nash’s eyes widened. “And you won’t be reminded of the time?” he asked.

“I might, but I don’t think I will be affected by it too much. I have slain the proverbial demon this morning.” I gave him the most reassuring smile I could muster.

As the man spoke behind the camera, it shook and in that split second, I really did see the little girl in the corner of the room. She was blindfolded but still clothed.

I looked through a substantial number of videos before I saw a pattern. This man never had more than one woman in his room. More specifically, he played with every single woman for a longer period of time. This meant that something went wrong this time.

He would have gotten unnoticed if not for the parents of an eleven-year-old who knew something was wrong when their daughter didn’t return home on time.

From what I could tell, the interior of the building was made of exposed brick with white paint on it. The room was narrow, like a pantry or a corner in the basement, and toys and devices were placed across the walls and shelves. The man or the group of people involved were not overtly organized in the arrangement and there was no rhyme or reason as to why certain things were placed in a certain way.

This man also had no regard for hygiene.

What puzzled me was the lack of faces. The man wore an animal head, a cartoonish contrast to his heinous crimes. There was also a female in the scene and she too was masked.

The skin of her arms and exposed legs gave me a sense of how old she could be. A younger female.

It still could be a wife or a girlfriend, but it helped to know that there was a considerable age difference between the two perpetrators.

But then, I realized something. What if I watched it in chronology? Someone who started filming recently or posting would be less avid at hiding themselves.

So, I went back. I went back to the first couple of videos and grinned.

This was happening at a house. A brick house with an overgrown garden. I could assume that this was one of the houses with not many people living around them… Nobody to listen to the screams. Or maybe… or maybe… the woman in the first video was not a victim but a sexual partner.

It got more curious.

As I watched, a call came in. I looked at my phone and felt a smile tugging on my lips. I hit pause and put the phone to my ears.

“Hey, what is it?” I asked.

“You haven’t noticed the time, have you?” Sebastian’s warm voice came from the other side.

I pulled the phone away and looked at the time. It was two in the morning. I gasped. “I didn’t even see the time. I got carried away looking over this. This is hours and hours of footage and I am watching it in multiplied speed, okay?” I sighed.

“You’re doing a fine job,” he breathed. “I came home to feed Sheng Sheng. I know that it’s an urgent case, so I will cook the food and bring it to you in the morning, okay?” I felt my heart warm as I hummed.

“Cuddle Sheng Sheng on my behalf. I’ve been ignoring her for the past few weeks,” I grumbled.

“Sheng Sheng doesn’t mind. She’s content frolicking around in the creche all day long,” he teased. “Here, she wants to talk to you,” he hummed.

I heard her little mewls and chuckled. Sheng Sheng was almost full-grown now. Her claws were deadly and quite a few of our cushions had been sacrificed to her anger.

“Now, get back to work. Eat some instant noodles and coffee for now. I trust that you’ll solve the case in no time,” he assured.

“Ah, it’s such a pleasure to have a fiancé who trusts me to the moon and back,” I said, amused.

“Yes, your fiancé taught you almost all of what you know. I don’t trust you as much as I trust my ability to teach.”

I snorted. “Well, Dr. Butler. I will leave you to your gloating then. I have a missing child to bring back home safely,” I gloated.