The meal was unceremoniously slid under his cell door on a plastic tray.
Stone Scroggie looked at the soup and sandwich with contempt. He vowed that people would pay when he got out of this hellhole, starting with Kris Collins and Alexander Wainwright. Candi Kane would also feel his wrath.
And he would do it on his schedule. He always did things on his schedule, and to prove his point, he refused to eat the food until he was good and ready. This left him with more idle time to plot his revenge, which would be more delicious than any meal they could ever serve him, anyway.
His lawyer, Barney Cook, had promised that he’d make bail and be home to celebrate New Year’s. A judge didn’t agree, denying bail. When he attempted to call him tonight, Cook’s voice message said he was out for the evening and would be in touch tomorrow. He envisioned him out at some swanky party in Manhattan—the one he should be at, spending the money that Kerstman and Collins stole from him. Cook was getting close to joining Collins and the others on his naughty list. He hoped he enjoyed his night, because it might be the last New Year’s he got to celebrate.
Scroggie finally gave in and took a spoonful of soup. Not only was it nothing like the food in the finest restaurants in which he dined, but it left a terrible aftertaste. Like a film was forming over his throat.
He got up and banged on the bars. “Guard! Guard!” When nobody answered his call, he shouted, “If you can’t even make a decent soup, let me do it myself!”
Still no answer.
He soon began to feel lightheaded. A sharp pain tore through his lower back.
He tried to yell, but nothing came out. His throat was frozen, and he felt the air being sucked out of him as he tried to breathe. He banged as hard as he could on the bars, and when that didn’t work he threw the cup of soup against the wall. But the plastic made little noise. He started to panic.
He banged on the bars one more time, before collapsing to the cement floor. It felt like an animal was trapped inside his abdomen and was eating its way out.
Just before he passed out from the pain, the guard finally arrived. But he didn’t do anything—he just stood there and grinned at him as he writhed on the floor.
When his eyes finally were able to focus on the guard’s face, a horror came over Scroggie.
“I hope you enjoyed your soup,” Gooch said.