He flipped around his iPhone and snapped pictures to shove in Mark’s face. His flash freeze-framed awful things concealed by the darkness. Chains fitted with manacles, and others rigged to overhead pulleys. A row of four rusty, heavy-duty hooks mounted into the wall. A wire box spring stripped of cloth and affixed on a hinged base, leather straps dangling from its corners and sides. A corner drain choked with detritus and haloed by stagnant water. Deep gashes in the cinderblock walls freckled with what looked like dried blood.
No sign at all of the damn mask.
The police must have taken it. Nabhi’s brother was only telling stories.
Henry looked again, probing with his light, casting it under the box spring and down into the drain. He knew the pictures would shut Mark up well enough and w
