Cindy sat at the edge of the table across from her. “You don’t seriously believe that Tatiana would harm them?”
“That psycho is capable of anything.”
Cindy leaned forward. “What did she say that made you think that?”
Sammy shook her head. “There was a lot of psycho nonsense, something about feathering the nest like they were pawns in her little game.”
“What game? What’s the purpose of it?”
“Wish I knew. Then I might be able to stop her.”
“People say all kind of things that are just a gag. I’m sure that’s all it was, Sam. It’s all just a gag.”
If Sammy told Cindy what the psycho said about her, Cindy might see how cruel she was. Maybe the psycho knew that. “You don’t know her like I do.”
“I’ve spent time with her, maybe even more than you.”
“What do you talk about? I bet my name comes up more than it should.”
“We talk about all kinds of things. You’re my best friend, so you’re going to come up too.”
“Does she have some weird psycho name for you?”
“I think it’s kind of a cute name,” Cindy said, shifting her weight. “She’s not some street thug. You’ve seen her apartment. You don’t get to where she is by doing crazy things.”
“She drives a car, Cindy.”
“I’m sure it’s more than that. She could be in business with Bernardo.”
He was more of a kook than a psycho.
Cindy stood, retying the sash on her robe. “Did you know that Leo has the apartment next to us?”
Sammy nodded. “Another one that’s a little too obsessed.”
“You just have to admit that you have that special something. I’m kind of jealous. Feel like the third wheel in my own life. Even Johnny mentions you sometimes.”
“Do any dollars get mentioned with my name?”
Cindy smiled. “I read somewhere that some people have an inner glow that attracts others without them even knowing. I bet you have that.”
“Did it mention where you can get a shade?”
Cindy laughed, plopping down next to her. “I missed you yesterday. Were you mad at me?”
Sammy shook her head. “Mad at myself.”
“Let’s just forget about all this stuff,” Cindy said. “I know. We’ll go out to eat. My treat. Nothing fancy, can’t afford fancy anyway.” She giggled, falling onto Sammy.
“You don’t have to work?”
“I’m going in later with Leo,” Cindy said, plucking at Sammy’s hair. “Looks like a feather.”
“Must’ve been from those pigeons dive-bombing me while I was waiting outside the school.”
Cindy teased the fibers. “It looks like stuffing from a pillow.”
“I found the chair that the psycho cut up. Igor moved it to the junk room.”
“The dead chair again?”
“He let her into the apartment the same day the chair went missing. ‘She was friend.’ He kept telling me.” Sammy checked the door. “He really did it because the psycho promised to screw him.”
“Let’s not go into that again.”
Sammy chuckled. “She’d screw him in more ways than one. Probably cut off his dick and tell him to bark like a puppy dog if he wanted it back.”
“Sam.”
“Did I tell you she was waiting for the twins after school yesterday?”
“No.”
“It was a block away from the house. She stood eight feet tall with those psycho shoes. Scared the twins.”
“I didn’t tell her where they lived. Maybe it was the agency that told her.”
“She never had any intention of adopting them, and I told her to her face. We got into a fight.”
“What?”
“I got so mad that I called her a psycho bitch to her face. She went to smack me. I had a stick in my hand that Justin gave me to fight off the candy monster.”
“You hit her?”
Sammy shook her head. “She knocked it out of my hand like it was nothing, grabbed me by the throat, and slammed me against the car.”
“Are you okay?”
“Something bad is going to happen, and I’m going to have to fight off a real monster now.” Sammy’s eyes watered. “If something happens to the twins, I’ll never forgive myself.”
Cindy held her. “Nothing will happen to them. I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding.”
“She’s cruel and ugly inside, Cindy. You don’t know her like I do.”
Cindy wiped the tears from Sammy’s face. “Even if she is as bad as you say, Gladys is a pretty tough cookie too.”
“Gladys is no match for her.”
“You know what we’ll do? We’ll order in. I’ll call Johnny and tell him I’m sick. It’ll be a girl’s night until the sun rises.”
“I’m not going to be much fun.”
“We’ll get a bottle of that sweet wine. After a few glasses, you’ll forget what day it is.”
“Did that already.”
Cindy laughed. “What day did you think it was?”
Sammy shrugged. “The day that the psycho wouldn’t get to the twins.”
Cindy put the chair’s stuffing on her upper lip. “That day will never come.”
“Put it on your head and call everybody ‘doll.’”
Cindy tugged on Sammy’s jacket. “You’re terrible.” Cindy noticed the torn trousers. “Was that from the fight?”
Sammy folded the flap of the jacket over the tear. She shook her head and looked away.
Cindy slid in closer and held her hand.
“After my tussle with the psycho, I looked for a place where I could keep the twins safe. It was a decent place. Not as good as here but decent. Found an apartment on the second floor. It was down the hallway, away from things. Uncle Danny used to always say you’ll be safe if you get the one farthest away.” Sammy tried to collect herself, making it worse. She bent over bawling.
Cindy held her, running her hand over her back.
“He held me down and put his hand over me. I pleaded with him. He put his hand down my pants. I tried to make him stop. That’s when he ripped them.”
“It’s okay. You’re safe now.”
“I got free and ran,” Sammy said, lifting her head up. “I ran like I never ran before.”
“You fought because you’re strong.” Cindy wiped her cheeks.
“I felt so helpless.”
Cindy leaned into her. “You’re strong. You’re the strongest person I know.”
“I don’t feel strong. Everything I tried failed.”
“Then you keep trying because I know you can overcome anything. Don’t you ever be ashamed of what happened. Do you hear me?”
Sammy nodded.
Cindy held her against her bosom. “Maybe we’ll get two bottles of that wine.”
A phone rang.
“That could be Johnny,” Cindy said, rushing toward the counter. “I’ll tell him I’m not coming in.”
Sammy took her jacket off and dried her face.
“It’s your phone, Sam. It’s Gladys.”
Chapter Forty-Seven
______________________________
Cindy held up the phone to show her. It was Gladys all right. “How did she get your number?”
It rang a second time. It wasn’t Gladys; it was the psycho. Sammy grabbed the phone on the third ring and took a deep breath. She had to remember to breathe. “Hello?”
“I thought it was time to reunite you with your mommy dearest. Say, ‘Hello.’”
Sammy said nothing. Her heart raced at the sound of a loud smack. A low groan followed.
“Hello.” It sounded hollow and wounded.
Was that Gladys?
“I try to be an impartial mediator, but these things do need an occasional nudge.”
“Where are you?”
“Whoever said, ‘You can never go home again,’ is just plain wrong.”
“You’re at Gladys’s
house?”
“Home sweet home, little bird.”
Sammy felt the blood drain from her face. “What are you doing there?”
“Mediating the family squabble. Aren’t you paying attention?”
Cindy tapped her arm, wanting to know what was going on. Sammy mouthed, “Psycho.”
“In all fairness, I would be remiss to leave out that she called you a thief. Can you imagine my little bird a thief? The best one was when she called Chocolate Cake a whore.”
“Whatever issues you have are with me.”
“I’ve hatched this ingenious lesson. You’ll be flying in no time. Isn’t that exciting?”
Cindy wanted to know more, but all Sammy had was the psycho being a psycho.
“You’ll never guess what Gladys’s beloved son was doing when I came knocking?”
“I have no idea.”
“He was making mad love to a girl. Poor Gladys was shocked by the sight of it. I do think they’ll make a lovely couple.” Tatiana’s voice drifted away from the phone. She chuckled. “If looks could kill, I’d be stone dead.”
She hadn’t mentioned the twins.
“Now, Gladys, tell Samantha what kind of girl your beloved son was screwing, the fruit of your loins, the progenitor of your grandchildren?”
Another low groan.
“Speak loud and clear, Gladys. We don’t want any secrets now, do we?”
“A doll, a rubber doll.” Gladys’s voice was flat and lifeless.
That cruel, psycho bitch!
“What is she saying?” Cindy whispered.
Sammy closed her eyes. Whatever she did, she couldn’t get mad.
“Now, whenever anyone asks you where little rubber babies come from, you can tell them.”
“What do you want from me, Tatiana?”
“Haven’t you been listening, little bird? I’m here to mediate your little family squabble. It’ll be no small feat. Talk about a dysfunctional family.”
“They’re not my family.”
“Who is it then? Chocolate Cake?” Her staccato breath suggested she thought that was funny. “I don’t know how you can eat up all that cake and never get full?”
She was always turning things around.
“It couldn’t be Uncle Danny since he took his last high into the grave.”
Sammy glanced at Cindy. Did she tell the psycho about him?
“Chocolate Cake told me how he’s still in your thoughts. Gave her a glass of that sweet wine. Didn’t know if I should put it in a glass with ice and a straw,” Tatiana said with a breathy snicker. “I was out of straws, so I gave her a wineglass. She wouldn’t stop talking.”
Sammy glared at Cindy. How could she?
“When he died with a needle stuck in his arm and foaming at the mouth, did you thank the heavens for ridding yourself of that loser?”
The phone’s case cracked. Sammy eased her grip. Don’t let the psycho get to you.
“What is it?” Cindy asked.
Sammy couldn’t look at her.
“You called him an uncle, but we both know that was just a way to hide who he really was.”
“He was kind and gentle; that’s who he was.”
“What was the act of kindness? Did he give you a plum street corner to beg from? Or perhaps he shined your begging cup every morning?”
“What do you know about kindness?”
“I’ve bought you gifts and dinner and offered to take you to the best places. What did he give you? A good fairy tale so you’d beg and steal to get his next fix?”
“That’s not the way it was!”
“He wasn’t your uncle. He was your pimp.”
“Shut up!”
“If you were like Chocolate Cake, he would’ve been your real pimp. He’d have you sit on his lap and he’d sample the goods between shots in the arm.”
“Shut up, psycho bitch!” Sammy blinked the tears away.
“The truth hurts, little bird.” Her voice was soft but mocking.
Cindy put her hand over Sammy’s and gently squeezed.
Sammy pulled away, running a sleeve over her face. “Screw you, psycho bitch.” The silence ticked away. Each tick foreboded a darkness. It was as if the earth had opened and swallowed her whole, and each tick pulled her down deeper.
“I can talk to her, Sam.” The voice was soft and gentle, but it was also the voice of betrayal.
Sammy shook her head.
“I’ve decided to embrace my psychosis.” Tatiana’s voice was smug, resolute. “I am a psycho. You know, I feel better already,” she said as if it were a revelation.
Sammy opened her eyes to find Cindy standing in front of her. Sammy turned away. “Good for you.”
“Now you try it.”
More games.
“Repeat after me, ‘I am a psycho.’”
“I’m nothing like you.”
“If you need something, you steal it with no regard for anyone else. What would you call someone who acts that way?”
“I only take from people who can afford it.”
“Like the gene editor machine you stole?”
“That was from a big, rich company.”
“What about the security guard who lost his job? How will he and his family survive now that he has little or no prospects for another job?”
He was nice enough to her.
“I’m sure you didn’t give it a second thought. You needed something, and you took it; simple as that. If that’s not a psycho, then I don’t know what is.”
She was playing with her, probably made up that whole thing about the security guard too.
“What about all the things you’ve stolen over the years? Do you even know how many lives you’ve poisoned with your thievery?”
“I only take from people who buy feathered wigs on a whim.”
“Do you want to steal from me, little bird?”
“I don’t want anything from you.”
“I have a nice pearl necklace. It’s not too expensive, but it’s been passed down through the generations. It’s priceless to me with all the memories it holds. You could steal that.”
“I said I don’t want anything from you.”
“Go ahead and steal it. Chocolate Cake gets a new dress and a few bottles of that sweet wine. I’m sure there will be enough extra for straws. You can have your fun, slurping your wine while I fall to pieces at the loss of Granny’s necklace.”
Was the lady’s bracelet at the bus stop a cherished heirloom? She was taking the bus. It wasn’t as if she had a car waiting for her.
“You made sure Uncle Danny got his fixes no matter how many lives you hurt.”
The psycho was trying to get into her head, slithering into her ear like a poisonous snake. It wasn’t all stealing. She did begging too.
“You’re just like me, little bird. You don’t care who you hurt. Why do you think I chose you?”
“Was in the wrong place at the wrong time?”
“It was fate,” Tatiana said, “and more fateful events to come.”
What was she planning?
“I’ve gathered a feast of excitement in your honor. I insist you wear the wig and dress. It’ll be so much more special that way.”
“What kind of feast?”
“I suppose a little appetizer wouldn’t hurt,” Tatiana said, taking in a deep breath. “We’re going to explode a couple of little minds.”
“You’re talking about Gladys and Mark, right?”
Tatiana chuckled. “You have to go smaller than that, little bird.”
It felt as if a ton of bricks were dumped on her chest.
“The entrée must be experienced, or you’ll never learn to fly.”
Breathe. She had to breathe.
“Don’t dawdle or the entrée will be cold.” The line went dead.
Chapter Forty-Eight
______________________________
Sammy bent over, chest heaving and legs numb with exhaustion. If she could just sit and rest… The
boxes! The wig and dress were by her feet. The house was two down. It had to be at least an hour before sunset, but everything looked dark. Clouds thickened into dark gray striations, and the wind kicked up. The front upstairs room, Gladys’s room, was lit. She stared at the room, hoping to see what was coming.
Sammy hurried up the walkway to the back of the Gillespies’ place. They were an elderly couple who were hard of hearing. She hopped the fence into the Wieners’ yard. They had a yapping Chihuahua that’d gotten her in trouble more than a few times with Gladys. Sammy tiptoed across the yard and climbed the chain-link fence; the boxes swung over, jingling the links. The beast was startled into a bark. Sammy froze, perched on top. Could she make it over quietly? The beast sounded a two-note follow-up. Sammy was exposed. She pushed off, sending the links rattling. The beast was in full-throttle alarm, waking both dead and living.
She crouched against the house between the back steps and the fence. If the psycho suspected anything, there was no sign of it. Sammy crept around the steps and checked the back basement window. It was dimly lit, but that was how Mark normally had it. She squatted by the first side window, watching for any movement. There was an outside chance that the psycho lied, and if Mark was down there that would prove it. The second window told a different story. It was cut out and pulled back. That’s how she got in. It made sense too. If there was anyone who would’ve been a threat, it would’ve been Mark.
The basement window would be an easier route than how she’d planned. She lingered a moment, not sure what to do. No, it might be a trap or at the very least expected. She climbed the railing by the back step and grabbed hold of the gutter. The last time she tried this, the gutter pulled loose, and Gladys gave her hell for it.
It felt sturdy enough. Sammy swung from it, slowly at first, testing it. She pulled her legs in, then thrust out as if she were on the uneven bars, switched hands at the height of her ascent, and dropped back, landing facedown on the roof.
The back window to the twins’ room held a faint glow. The unfamiliar tint suggested something ancient, ritualistic. The room was dark. The glow came from the light in the front room. The beds were up against the near and far walls.
Her plan was to cover the stairs with bearings and draw Tatiana down somehow. She’d trip and fall, giving Sammy time to get the twins out the window and to safety. She’d call the cops for Gladys and Mark. Cindy had told her to call the cops if Sammy thought Tatiana would really harm them. Cindy still held onto the idea that it was a gag, a sick one but still a gag. Must’ve been the white carpet and walls in her posh apartment that colored Cindy’s view of the psycho bitch.
The Girl Thief Page 24