Chapter 5 - Raw Footage
The screen showed the concrete pillars of the railway underpass, slick with black rain and shadow. Mason’s vintage sedan was parked against the curb, its driver's side door wrenched wide open.
Ryder’s boots were visible at the bottom of the frame, stepping directly onto Mason’s chest, pinning the terrified boy against the filthy mud. Mason was sobbing, his hands held up defensively in complete surrender.
""I didn't do anything!"" Mason cried out on the video, his voice echoing under the concrete bridge. ""I swear to God, Officer, I was just driving home!""
""You're driving on roads your mommy is buying with our money, kid,"" Ryder's voice came through with crystal-clear audio fidelity. ""She told us you were asking too many questions about the shipping manifests at the river depot. She doesn't want you getting in the way of grown-up business.""
""My mom wouldn't do this!"" Mason screamed.
""Your mom gave us the schedule of your warehouse shift, little boy,"" Ryder sneered.
Then came the visual horror that made me physically sick to my stomach. Ryder reached down, seized Mason's left ankle, braced his heavy combat boot against Mason's knee joint, and deliberately threw all of his body weight forward. A loud, sickening crack echoed through the audio speakers. Mason shrieked—a high-pitched, guttural wail of pure agony that tore right through my soul.
Ryder didn't pause. He stepped around, grabbed Mason's right foot, twisted it violently until the tendon gave way, and stomped his heel down directly onto the exposed ankle bones. Another crack. Another horrific scream, followed by Mason choking on his own vomit as shock overwhelmed his central nervous system.
Ryder leaned down, bringing his face directly into the camera's reflection in the wet asphalt. He was grinning. He took out his department-issued radio, tapped the shoulder mic, and laughed into the receiver. ""Dispatch, suspect attempted to jump down the concrete embankment while evading stop. Sustained lower extremity fractures. Send a bus to the underpass, code two. He's neutralized.""
Then a pair of expensive Italian dress shoes stepped into the upper corner of the frame.
It was Victoria.
She was standing beneath a large black umbrella, wearing the beige cashmere coat I had bought her for our twentieth anniversary. She looked down at her writhing, broken son on the wet gravel. Her expression was completely devoid of emotion, as cold and lifeless as a marble gravestone.
""Is he going to talk, Cole?"" Victoria asked, her voice steady and indifferent over the pouring rain.
May you like
Ryder chuckled, wiping Mason's blood off the toe of his boot. ""He won't be walking for six months, Victoria. And if he opens his mouth about the river shipments, I'll put a bullet through his other knee and call it self-defense. Your boy learned his lesson tonight.""
Victoria stared down at Mason for three agonizing seconds, turned on her heel without offering a single word of comfort, and stepped back into the passenger side of Captain Grant's idling black sedan.
