Robert Kind sat in the walk-in freezer on a grey metal folding chair wearing nothing but an apron that had "KIND GROCERIES" written on it in big green letters.  His head was hanging down, and blood dripped from his shattered nose onto his bare legs.  His hands were duct-taped behind him and his ankles were taped to each of the chair legs.  He couldn't remember how long he'd been sitting here, but he'd stopped shivering, he couldn't feel most of his body, and his skin had a tinge of blue, so l...