Page 9 of The Lies We Steal

I grind my teeth, watching as the doctor eyes all of the sophisticated blades on his table. His Adam's apple bobbing.

“Still haven’t learned to stop playing with your food before eating, have you Thatch?” Rook says as he continues looking through the office.

Thatcher just grins, continuing his line of questions. Getting inside of his head is half the fun for him. He doesn’t just like to make them bleed on the outside, he craves the fear on the inside.

“My father granted me this one,” He says picking up one of the knives, “You know my father, don’t you?”

The question makes the doctor shake,

“Yeah, I presumed you did.”

“You see, with this knife, I could use this tiny hook here and embed it into the flesh of your back before peeling your skin clean off. I’ve been in the market for a new pair of skin boots.”

“I don’t know anything! This is pointless!” Howard continues, his voice shaking at the thought of Thatch making him into a pair of shoes.

Done with the teasing, he grabs a thicker, long blade feeling it in his hand for a moment before grabbing the doctor by the wrist to hold him steady. With precision and almost grace, Thatch slices straight through the first knuckle of his pinky finger. The piece of the appendage falling helplessly to the ground.

White bone is quickly covered with a fountain of blood, squirting from what is left of his small finger. An inhuman cry erupts from him as he looks down at his hand, horrified of the lengths we’d be willing to go to.

“You think what he did hurt? Several punches to the gut and a split lip? I will show you pain, Dr. Discil. Extreme pain.” He seethes, “Until the last words you croak from your vile mouth is, please, just kill me. So, I suggest you answer our question before there isn’t anything left for me to cut up.” For a moment the facade of Ponderosa Springs most wealthy, future politician cracks. The creature that lurks beneath coming out to play.

“I didn’t, I just—” He stutters over his words, ready to crack. Except it’s not fast enough for us.

The sound of someone chopping a carrot fills the room once again, another knuckle cut off, leaving just a sliver of finger left. Blood soaks the front of Thatch’s white Versace button down.

Another scream fills the room and I’m grateful we were able to get in here after-hours.

Howard is trying to catch his breath, while Thatcher lines up again,

“Wait, wait, stop, please! I’ll tell you! I’ll tell you, just stop!”

Finally the words we have been waiting to hear. I lean off the wall, walking towards them a bit,

“I don’t know who it was. All I know is I received a letter when Rosemary’s body got to my office, asking me to cover-up any evidence of foul play on the body.”He breathes, whining in pain between words,

“And this has to do with Rose, how?” Thatch applies pressure to his finger.

“Wait, wait, I’m getting there.” He begs, “At first I was against it, I was going to put my findings in the report anyway b…but…”

“They do what everyone in Ponderosa Springs does. They gave you money for silence.” I finish. My blood pumping hot in my veins.

“Yes, and I needed the extra money! I couldn’t pass it up. I’d checked my bank account and sure enough, there was the money.”

“And Rose? What was her cause of death?” Rook asks from behind the desk, his hands gripping the edge of it so tightly I thought the wood might splinter beneath his grip.

“She had an allergic reaction to something in the drug. It was injected into the side of her neck, I’d found an entry wound. But when I did my examination, someone had shoved a few of the pills into her throat, trying to make it more believable she’d took them herself, but they did it postmortem, so…”

“So she couldn’t swallow them.” Thatch finishes for him.

He nods, “She died of anaphylactic shock! That’s all I know I swear to God!” He cries, the blood leaking from his hand pumping out to the beating of his heart.

There is a quick silence that passes between all of us. We’d expected maybe someone with money was covering up the fact they’d killed her in order to attack the mayor.

I guess we weren’t the only monsters lurking around in town.

Thatcher looks over at me and I nod, giving him the go-ahead. He starts to clean up his knives, wiping them on his slacks, placing them neatly in his case.

“The pills in her throat, where are they?” Silas asks from behind him.