CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
I’m in. My powers are back—and I almost wish they weren’t.
A dirty, beaten-up man is chained to a radiator in an abandoned warehouse.
I recognize him instantly. It’s the wiry, balding middle-aged defendant from Bernard’s courtroom dream, the one pronounced not guilty of murdering Bernard’s boy. When his smell reaches me, I gag. What the hell? He stinks so bad my only option is to disable my olfactory sense. He also looks much thinner than at the trial, his shifty eyes filled with insanity and desperation.
His face stony, Bernard approaches, wood saw in hand.
“I’m sorry,” the chained guy croaks. “Please let me out. I didn’t mean to kill him. Things got out of control. I was abused when I was—”
“You want out? Here.” Bernard drops the saw and kicks it within the priso
