Read Online NO GOOD DEED by M.P. McDonald - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: M.P. McDonald
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for the pain to hit.
There was a tiny part of him that welcomed the excursions. As horrible as they were, at least he had someone to talk to. Pain was the price he paid for company. Pain he could deal with because it wasn’t permanent. There was an end to it, and then it was gone with nothing to show for it. No scars or disabilities. It could be worse. He could be in a pit with rats and fed maggot infested rice. Compared to that, this was nothing. Mark took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders. He winced as the left one grated in its socket. Maybe just a little bit of disability.
Five minutes later, he stood in the familiar room. The three usual spectators sat at their table, quietly chatting as he entered. He listened as hard as he could. Sometimes, he caught bits of sports scores or traffic reports. As mundane as it was, he relished every scrap of it. He felt less isolated when he knew the Knicks beat the Lakers or that there was a ten car pile up on the freeway. There was still a world going on outside his walls and he clung to that fact like a tick to a dog.
Jim strode into the room and Bill tagged along behind him blowing on a cup of coffee. Mark’s mouth watered at the scent. They ignored him while Jim sorted through some papers and Bill told an off-color joke to the other three. Mark filed the joke away for later, when he could smile in private.
Finally selecting a sheet of paper, Jim closed the file. It was Mark’s. He knew it. Every time he was brought here, it was a little thicker.
Jim approached him, his face grim and not in sync with his greeting. “Good afternoon.”
Mark filed that information away too. So, it wasn’t even morning although he had eaten breakfast less than an hour ago. He would try to go to sleep earlier today and see if he could get his nights and days back on track.
“Good afternoon.” He didn’t mean to emphasize the afternoon part, but Jim caught it, and gave him a sharp look. Mark knew somehow he had blundered.
“I have some questions to ask you, but you probably already knew that.”
“Yes, sir.” There, he had spoken. It felt good, even if it was to Jim.
“You’re looking rather smug today.” Jim quirked his mouth, as though trying to figure out what Mark was up to. “What’s going on?”
Mark raised his chin a notch. He would never admit coming here was better than sitting in his cell waiting for the walls to close in on him. “Nothing, sir.” His stomach churned. It was their mission to make his life a complete hell. It wasn’t enough that they stole every last shred of pleasure from his life, now even a pleasant thought was forbidden.
“We’ll see if you’re feeling so pleased with yourself after today.”
Mark swallowed and dropped his gaze to the floor. Maybe the cell was better.
Jim paced, his measured steps in cadence with his words. “Okay, first, I’ll give you the opportunity, as always, to be forthcoming and admit to your crimes. Give us the information we’ve been asking of you.” He stopped directly in front of Mark. “We can end this session on a good note for once. How about it?”
Mark lifted his gaze, not fooled by the hopeful look in the other man’s eyes. The men at the table behind Jim sat straight, more alert than he had ever seen them. One drummed his fingers. Mark’s stomach went from churning to a whirling mass of acid.
“I...I don’t have anything to confess.” He almost wished he did. He would do nearly anything for all of this to be over. More than once, he’d considered making up a confession. If only he had details. Plausible details. But he didn’t.
Jim sighed. “I didn’t want to have to do this.” Regret flashed over his face and it looked genuine. Then he nodded to the guards stationed behind Mark.
They unlocked his ankle shackles from the floor and grabbed each arm, dragging him to a corner and ordered him lie down on a hard board. His arms were stretched over his head and secured so tightly, his own
There was a tiny part of him that welcomed the excursions. As horrible as they were, at least he had someone to talk to. Pain was the price he paid for company. Pain he could deal with because it wasn’t permanent. There was an end to it, and then it was gone with nothing to show for it. No scars or disabilities. It could be worse. He could be in a pit with rats and fed maggot infested rice. Compared to that, this was nothing. Mark took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders. He winced as the left one grated in its socket. Maybe just a little bit of disability.
Five minutes later, he stood in the familiar room. The three usual spectators sat at their table, quietly chatting as he entered. He listened as hard as he could. Sometimes, he caught bits of sports scores or traffic reports. As mundane as it was, he relished every scrap of it. He felt less isolated when he knew the Knicks beat the Lakers or that there was a ten car pile up on the freeway. There was still a world going on outside his walls and he clung to that fact like a tick to a dog.
Jim strode into the room and Bill tagged along behind him blowing on a cup of coffee. Mark’s mouth watered at the scent. They ignored him while Jim sorted through some papers and Bill told an off-color joke to the other three. Mark filed the joke away for later, when he could smile in private.
Finally selecting a sheet of paper, Jim closed the file. It was Mark’s. He knew it. Every time he was brought here, it was a little thicker.
Jim approached him, his face grim and not in sync with his greeting. “Good afternoon.”
Mark filed that information away too. So, it wasn’t even morning although he had eaten breakfast less than an hour ago. He would try to go to sleep earlier today and see if he could get his nights and days back on track.
“Good afternoon.” He didn’t mean to emphasize the afternoon part, but Jim caught it, and gave him a sharp look. Mark knew somehow he had blundered.
“I have some questions to ask you, but you probably already knew that.”
“Yes, sir.” There, he had spoken. It felt good, even if it was to Jim.
“You’re looking rather smug today.” Jim quirked his mouth, as though trying to figure out what Mark was up to. “What’s going on?”
Mark raised his chin a notch. He would never admit coming here was better than sitting in his cell waiting for the walls to close in on him. “Nothing, sir.” His stomach churned. It was their mission to make his life a complete hell. It wasn’t enough that they stole every last shred of pleasure from his life, now even a pleasant thought was forbidden.
“We’ll see if you’re feeling so pleased with yourself after today.”
Mark swallowed and dropped his gaze to the floor. Maybe the cell was better.
Jim paced, his measured steps in cadence with his words. “Okay, first, I’ll give you the opportunity, as always, to be forthcoming and admit to your crimes. Give us the information we’ve been asking of you.” He stopped directly in front of Mark. “We can end this session on a good note for once. How about it?”
Mark lifted his gaze, not fooled by the hopeful look in the other man’s eyes. The men at the table behind Jim sat straight, more alert than he had ever seen them. One drummed his fingers. Mark’s stomach went from churning to a whirling mass of acid.
“I...I don’t have anything to confess.” He almost wished he did. He would do nearly anything for all of this to be over. More than once, he’d considered making up a confession. If only he had details. Plausible details. But he didn’t.
Jim sighed. “I didn’t want to have to do this.” Regret flashed over his face and it looked genuine. Then he nodded to the guards stationed behind Mark.
They unlocked his ankle shackles from the floor and grabbed each arm, dragging him to a corner and ordered him lie down on a hard board. His arms were stretched over his head and secured so tightly, his own
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