Sixty-Five
Some people would find Marcus Taggert's thoughts quite cruel. He drove down the highway secretly pleased with Sonny Corinthos' impulsive move to hop into the unmarked police sedan. The detective hoped that the shock of seeing Jason Morgan's dead body would shake his half-brother's composure enough to reveal details of what was happening in the criminal underworld that Sonny resided in.
Marcus drove almost leisurely toward the scene of the crime. Several times from the corner of his eye he saw Sonny cast almost desperate glances his way. With a simple flick of his wrist they could sail unimpeded down the road with lights flashing and sirens blaring. But their slow pace was deliberate, and designed to heighten Sonny's anxiety level.
“What did they do to him?” The words were reluctantly torn from Sonny's throat. Their painstakingly slow ride to the outskirts of Port Charles gave him far too much time to think and to imagine.
“They?” Marcus latched onto the word. “Just who is they ?”
“Whoever killed Jason.”
“I never said anyone killed him, Sonny. I just said he was dead.”
Taggert's gaze never left the highway, but Sonny felt as though he was locked into a staring contest with the intense detective. Sonny knew that Marcus was determined to break him. That was the story of their relationship.
“What do you have for me?” Sonny answered his phone without regard to Taggert's presence in the car. Jason's death had escalated circumstances to such a high level that Sonny had no time to concern himself with Marcus Taggert or any of the other Port Charles law enforcement, for that matter.
“Perhaps the better question would be…'what did I have?'”
Sonny sat bolt upright. The amused voice in his ear belonged to his deadly rival Anthony Sorrell. “Where is my wife?”
“I regret,” Anthony Sorrell said, “that your wife's body cannot be returned to you as we did Mr. Morgan's. Things were…done to her that unfortunately left indelible traces.”
“I swear, if you have hurt her I will kill you.” Sonny's knuckles were white; he clutched the phone so tightly.
It was like Sonny hadn't even spoken. “Do you know that your Mr. Morgan was actually grateful when we cut out his eyes?” Sorrell paused dramatically. “It prevented him from watching your wife's immense suffering.”
