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Austin reached Colton first. His mouth became slack-jawed when he approached the body.
“Jesus, Stacy. He’s been nailed to the wall.” Austin used his cell phone and called the unit station near Maria’s house, informing them they needed an ambulance and probably a life flight helicopter; Colton DeVito had been found.
Stacy raced over to find Colton DeVito barely recognizable from the pictures they had discovered of him earlier. His head lolled to the side, and he had a large plastic ball stuck in his mouth, wired to a chain and strap that was tied to the back of his head. His nose was swollen and bent, with dried mucus crusted in small spots near his mouth. Both eyes were blackened with deep, purple bruises under the eye sockets. His torso was naked, and his jeans hung extremely low around his hips. They had been torn and tattered to the point where only a few strips of fabric covered his thighs. His entire body was soaked with sweat. The acrid smell of urine and feces made Stacy wince. She looked down at the floor to see blood mixed in with the fecal matter. Dried streaks of it ran down his legs, and there were burn marks all over his body.
Austin’s gaze followed her own. “He’s probably been sodomized.”
Stacy put a hand over her mouth. “My God, Austin...”
Austin reached up and placed a hand near the base of Colton’s neck near the carotid artery.
“He’s alive,” Austin pronounced. “Barely, though. His pulse is very weak.”
Stacy stepped back to take in the scene. “We need to get him down from there.”
Stacy looked over to see an industrial-sized nail had been driven into one of his hands, and a rope was wrapped around the wrist. A trail of blood had pooled in a perfect circle around the entry point.
Stacy looked back at the door reflexively and noticed something else. On the sidewall, newspaper clippings from The Plain Dealer and other outlets had been cut out and taped to the wall. Stacy scanned the headlines. The articles were reports about Brooke Crawford’s murder and the house fire that killed Monica and George DeVito. Stacy looked back up at Colton. His placement on the wall and the articles’ height meant he would have no choice but to see them every time he opened his eyes.
The thoughts of that act of cruelty fueled an already smoldering fire that burned inside of Stacy. Stacy felt the muscles in her neck seize and her jaw rooted in place. She reached up and tapped Colton on the face.
“Colton, it’s the police.” She struck his cheek a little harder. “Colton. I need you to wake up. Come on, honey. Wake up.”
Austin noticed that his right hand wasn’t nailed to the wall, but a thicker rope had been tied tighter around the wrist. The same circular pool of dried blood was present. His feet had been bound together with the same rope and hung helplessly a few inches from the floor.
“I think he managed to free one hand,” Austin said, grunting as he pulled on the rope. “This rope is thicker and the knots tighter.”
Stacy kept rapping her hand against Colton’s face, harder and more frequently. Finally, Colton rolled his head to the side. He started chewing on the rubber ball, moaning and beginning to breathe heavily. Austin cut a sharp look over at her.
“What’s he doing?”
As his breathing became faster, it clicked in Stacy’s mind. “His nose is broken. With that ball in his mouth, he can’t breathe.”
Austin reached around the back of Colton’s head and began streaking his fingers across the nape.
“Found it,” he announced. Soon, the strap and ball fell out of Colton’s mouth. He smacked his lips together.
“Help me,” he mumbled pitifully. His high-pitched voice made Stacy’s heart sink.
“We’re the police, and we’re going to get you out of here.”
Colton’s eyes rolled around in their sockets for a moment before settling on the punctured drywall door at the rear of the shed. He began to flail against the wall. Austin released his grip on his hand.
“Fuck, is he having a seizure?”
Stacy tilted Colton’s head down. “Colton, what is it, son?” She kept her voice calm and flat. “We’re going to get you down and out of here, I promise.”
“No, no,” he groaned.
Stacy looked into his eyes, and a storm of anger and worry hid behind them.
“The room,” he mumbled. “It’s wired to blow.”