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Unformatted text preview: ing and trying to control himself. He kept his eyes closed tightly. Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html "You're a very stubborn man," Guy said finally. No response. The first two hours had yielded nothing. Every question had been about the money. He didn't know where it was, he'd said a hundred times. Did it exist? No, he had said repeatedly. What happened to it? He didn't know. Guy's experience with torture was extremely limited. He'd consulted an expert, a really twisted freak who seemed to actually enjoy it. He'd read a crude how-to manual, but finding practice time was difficult. Now that Patrick knew how horrible things could get, it was important to chat him up. "Where were you when your funeral took place?" Guy asked. There was a slight relaxing of Patrick's muscles. Finally, a question not about the money. He hesitated and thought about it. What was the harm? He was caught. His story was about to be told. Maybe if he cooperated they'd lay off the voltage. "In Biloxi," he said. "Hiding?" "Yes, of course." "And you watched your graveside service?" "Yes." "From where?" "I was in a tree, with binoculars." He kept his eyes closed and his fists clenched. "Where did you go after that?" "Mobile." "Was that your hiding place?" "Yes, one of them." "How long did you stay there?" "Off and on, coupla months." "That long, huh? Where did you live in Mobile?" "Cheap motels. I moved around a lot. Moved up and down the Gulf. Destin. Panama City Beach. Back to Mobile." "You changed your appearance." "Yeah. I shaved, colored my hair, dropped fifty pounds." "Did you study a language?" "Portuguese." "So you knew you were headed here?" "Where's here?" "Let's say it's Brazil." "Okay. Yeah, I figured this was a good place to hide." Ge...
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- Spring '10