Jenny scrambled to get up. She fell to her knees next to the bed. Her legs were tucked under her and she sat on her haunches with knees squashed toget...er. She kept her back straight and bowed her head to stare at the floor. Her hands rested, palms down, on each taut thigh. Claire whipped her head to the side to look at the girl and nodded approvingly.“Well...” Claire let the word hang in the air. Jenny gulped.“I am sorry mistress. It won’t happen again.” She assumed a voice like that of a. I learned how to interrogate someone. How to break their spirit. How to hurt them so much they beg for death. Me. Martin van de Casteele. A nice guy from Leiden, the Netherlands. Husband to an honest to goodness Saint. Father to the sweetest little boy you’ll ever meet. Brother to God’s shift supervisor. Man who can’t sit through the restaurant sketch in Monty Python’s The Meaning of Life, or indeed any of the Friday the 13th movies. Sure, I had killed six people by that time. I pushed one of. More

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