Page 25 of Stranger Gifts

He jumped up looking around the cell then moved to the bars. No one was there. Walking back to his bunk, he sat back down and shook his head.

“Hearing things, Weaver?”

“Who is that? Who’s there?” he called.

“Ain’t nobody anywhere, Crup,” yelled the inmate in the cell next to him. “The guards are taking care of something. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Nothing is wrong.”

“You raped that nun, Weaver. You beat her, raped her, and nearly killed her. For that, you deserve to die.”

“No. No, you’re not real,” he whispered to himself. “It’s the drugs.”

“Funny you say that,” said the voice again. Suddenly a man appeared before him, only his head but he was there. Weaver tried to lash out at him but the man disappeared, moving out of his reach.

“You’re not real. You’re not real!” he yelled.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Crup?” asked the inmate again.

“It’s time you paid for your sins,” said the voice. “You hurt Sister Agatha and now I will hurt you.”

He felt the burning sting of something on his hand and looked down to see the long knife wound, bleeding on the floor. He gripped it with his free hand, shaking his head.

Then he felt another sting, this time at his neck. From his spine to just below his ear, another knife wound, bleeding everywhere. He kept turning inside the cell, searching for what wasn’t there. Dizzy and losing consciousness, he sat back down on the bunk, trying to squelch the bleeding.

“You’re going to die, Weaver.”

“M-my name is Banger,” he muttered beneath his breath.

“No. You are no one. You are nothing. And you will not enjoy hell.”

He felt the stab and twist of a blade, then another sting as it was brought around his neck, ear to ear. Choking on his own blood, he could say nothing as he stared at the emptiness of the cell.

Suddenly a man appeared. A full body of a male. Naked.

“I’ll tell Sister Agatha that you’re on your way to hell. Just like she prayed. Enjoy the weather.”

Juan watched as he choked on the last bit of warm blood flowing from his body, falling back against his bunk. Blood was everywhere, making it appear that multiple people attacked him. He waited a few moments, then checked his pulse. The alarms stopped and he knew that David had done his job on the alarm systems.

Pulling the stealth netting over his head, he disappeared once more, leaving Weaver Crup dead in his own blood. No witnesses, no fingerprints, no cellmate. Locked inside his cell and dead.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

“Jenna? Can we speak to you for a moment?” asked Kari.

“Y-yes,” she whispered.

“It’s alright, Jenna. Nothing is wrong,” said Kat. “We’ve just heard from the federal prison that Weaver Crup was found dead in his cell. There were no witnesses, no camera footage, nothing. We can still take the club to trial if you want, but he’s gone. You won’t have to worry about him any longer.”

“Th-there were other men. I didn’t see their faces but there were others,” she said bravely.

“Yes, there were. Again, we can go to trial but if we don’t have names or faces, it might be challenging to get a conviction,” said Kari.

“I saw tattoos and I heard voices,” she said. Nash was listening at the table behind her, admiring her determination. Kari smiled at her, nodding.

“I have to give it to you, Jenna. You’re brave as shit. Most victims of sexual assault are too afraid to point out their attackers.”

“If I don’t, I’ll live in fear for the rest of my life that they’ll come after me. I would know their voices if I heard them again. One had a lisp and the other one was deep and raspy. His voice sounded like it had been damaged. I told Mr. Bolchek that.”

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