“I don’t…”
“I bet it did. I could see it in her eyes when she spoke about you. I know she loved it.”
Pete Lamia smiled and said, “She did. She really, really did.”
* * *
They watched the old man writing on a yellow legal pad through the one-way mirror. “What’s he writing?” Frank said.
“A letter to Beth,” Vic said.
“And how does that help us?”
“It’s as good as a confession.”
Frank put his face against the cool glass window, “That really disturbed me in there. Watching you give him permission to be what he is. I understand what you were doing, but in a lot of ways, I couldn’t believe the things that came out of your mouth.”
Vic nodded. “With my first couple of cases, I tried yelling at them until they gave it up. It didn’t work. Pedophiles don’t feel remorse.”
“So you make them feel good about raping young girls?”
“You think I enjoy it? Do you know how many dreams I’ve had where I’m reliving what these sick fucks tell me? Do you have any idea what it does to me every time I let one of those fuckers into my head? I feel like I want to rub a cheese grater up and down my insides.”
“You’re not supposed to let them into your head. You’re supposed to get into theirs, and that’s it. It isn’t worth it, your way,” Frank said.
“It is if they confess. As long as the kids don’t have to testify, who cares what I feel?”
Pete finished writing and they walked back into the room. Vic picked up the letter and read it, nodding, “This is good. Real good. You forgot to sign it.”
“How should I sign it?” Pete said.
“It’s to her, right? What does she call you?”
“Uncle Petey.”
Vic handed him the letter and said, “That sounds good.”
Pete signed the letter and slid it back across the table to Vic. “What happens now?”
Vic nodded to Frank, who uncuffed the handcuff from the metal bar and put it around the prisoner’s other wrist. “Now you go see the judge, Pete. How old are you?”
“Seventy-five. Listen, my wife is sick and needs me to take her to the hospital tomorrow morning. She can’t drive. For the love of God, the judge has to let me go home to help her. If she doesn’t get her medicine, she could have a stroke.”
Vic sat down on the edge of the table and pursed his lips in thought. He leaned down close to Pete’s ear and said, “I’ve got to be honest with you, Uncle Petey. You aren’t getting out. You aren’t ever getting out. You’re going to die in prison, after the inmates all take turns with you.”
Pete looked at him and laughed slightly, “Don’t say that. Of course I’m not. This is all a misunderstanding.”
“It’s true,” Vic said. “And unfortunately, your wife is going to have a stroke, because the only people you could have asked to help her won’t do it now. They hate you, because you raped their daughter, Pete. You raped their little girl, and now you are going to die in prison, and your wife is going to walk with a limp and talk funny forever. She’s going to say, ‘Muh muh muh hubbin is in pwison an ah’m a cwipple now’ because of you.”
Pete looked down at his handcuffs and muttered something.
“What’s that, Uncle Petey?” Vic said. “Speak up.”
“I said you are an evil person and God will deal with you someday soon.”
“Yeah,” Vic said. “That’s what I thought you said. You’re probably right.”
12
They handed Pete Lamia over to the corrections officers at the prison and walked out of the secured gate toward their car. Headlights appeared on the access road, coming their way. Both men squinted to see as the driver of the car pulled up to the visitor’s parking lot and parked. Two people got out.
“Unbelievable,” Vic said.
Beth’s father came out of the vehicle and went around the passenger side. He opened the door and helped Eris Lamia out of the car. Her glare pierced Vic even from across the dark distance of the parking lot. He could see she was cursing him.
“How did she know he was coming to the prison?” Vic said.
Frank scraped the cement step with the sole of his shoe, “She was sitting in the lobby and I told her if he didn’t come home, this is where he would be. I felt bad for her. She didn’t ask for any of this.”
“Neither did Beth.” Vic walked down the steps toward the car, staring at the two of them as they approached. The old woman’s eyes glittered in defiance, but Mr. Lamia only looked at the ground.
* * *
Vic turned down the car’s stereo and pulled out his cellphone. He dialed his wife’s phone and it rang once before going straight to voicemail. “It’s me again. I’ve been trying to call the kids all night. Please stop dumping my calls. I just want to talk to them.”
Frank looked out the window at the passing cars, trying to not intrude. He waited for Vic to close his phone and put it in his pocket before he said, “Maybe they’re out?”
“Not this late at night. She’s doing this to me to pay me back for missing my night with them. God knows what she’s telling them.” He looked at the car’s clock and grunted, then made a left hand turn into a shopping center. “Give me a minute, I’ll be right back.”
Vic parked the car in the fire lane outside of a liquor store and got out. He jogged into the store and went toward the far wall, out of sight. He returned to the counter with a bottle of whiskey and a smile for the annoyed-looking cashier. Frank lowered himself in the seat to keep from being seen and pulled out his phone. He pressed one button and waited for it to ring. “Hey, hon,” he said. “Yeah, we’re on our way back to the station now. I’ll be home soon. How are the girls?”
* * *
Frank picked up his car keys from his desk as Vic sat down. His eyes were red and half-lidded and his skin two shades too pale. “You staying late again?”
“Somebody’s got to get the reports on this done,” Vic said. “Anyway, I need all the overtime I can get this month. I’m going broke paying a mortgage and a rent.”
“Yeah, but you worked all night last night and haven’t been to bed yet. You need to get some sleep. It isn’t healthy.”
Vic tapped the bottle of whiskey and said, “I’ll sleep just fine, don’t you worry about it.” He turned to face the computer and started typing.
“Hey,” Frank said. “Are you okay?”
Vic did not stop typing. “I’m fine. Go home.”
“Why don’t you take the day off tomorrow and relax?”
“Why don’t you get the hell out of here and stop distracting me?”
Frank said okay, and got up to leave. He stopped at the door and turned back to say something, decided against it, and kept walking.
* * *
Dawn was waiting for him at the dinner table. A pair of soft pajamas and slippers were sitting on one of the chairs. A plate of spaghetti with thick meatballs sat on the placemat. Red wine filled the glass next to the plate. “What’s all this?” he said.
“Dinner. I figured you’d be hungry. Take off your clothes and get comfy.”
Frank smiled and thanked her. He kissed her on the cheek and unbuttoned his shirt. “Are the girls asleep?”
Dawn nodded, then produced two pages of scribbled crayon drawings. “They made these for you for when you got home.”
Frank took the pages and looked at them, feeling something hard in his throat. Dawn asked him what was wrong, but he shook his head and undid his tie.
* * *
The car tires slammed against the curb as he slid sideways into a spot and threw it into park. He staggered out of the car and looked down at the fresh white scraps along the tire’s black finish and said, “Fuck it.”
The lights were off inside the house.
Vic walked up to the front door and jammed the doorbell. No answer. He banged on the aluminum screen door until a light turned on upstairs. Danni moved the window shades to peek
down. He waved for her to come on.
She pounded down the steps and threw the locks open but did not open the screen door. “What the hell are you doing? It’s two o’clock in the morning.”
“You didn’t answer the phone. I thought something was wrong.”
She glared at him through the glass, “You’re drunk!”
Vic smiled stupidly and said, “So what? I wanted to check on my children before I went home. That’s how much I love them, Danni. No matter what you fucking say, I love them that much.”
“Get the hell away from my house,” Danni said. She moved to shut the interior door when Vic grabbed the screen door’s handle and shook it violently. Danni smiled viciously and said, “I got a new lock for it.”
“Open the fucking door,” Vic snarled.
“I will call the police if you don’t leave.”
Vic kicked the aluminum frame so hard it dented. “I will break this fucking thing to pieces if you don’t open it, God damn it. I want to see my fucking children.”
A second light came on downstairs and Vic heard his son say, “Mom? Are you okay?”
“Call 911 and tell them your father is trying to break in and kill me!”
“No, I’m not!” Vic shouted. He pressed flat against the door to look in, “Jason! Jason! Don’t listen to her! Let me see them, Danni!”
“You will never see them again, you son of a bitch.” Danni slammed the door shut and locked it as Vic went wild trying to tear the screen door’s handle off.
He kicked the glass and it shattered around his boot. “You fucking bitch, give me my kids!”
Porch lights appeared from the houses surrounding them. Vic turned to face the neighbors as they came to their front doors, looking out at him. There were sirens in the distance.
Vic dug his hand into his coat pocket for his wallet and held it up in the air, his badge reflecting in the blue and red lights heading toward him. There was movement in the window above and Vic glanced up, seeing two small silhouettes pressed against the glass looking down at him.
* * *
The phone’s sharp ring yanked him from the dark waters of sleep like a tow cable toward the shore. Frank reached for the thing on his nightstand as it vibrated and sounded. His wife stirred. One of his daughters made a noise in the next room. Frank lifted the phone to his ear. “Hello?”
“Detective O’Ryan?”
“It’s just Officer… whatever. Who is this?”
“Sergeant Limos from Stygian Falls Township. I have Vic Ajax in my station and he needs a ride home.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Let me put it this way. You either come get his ass or I’m going to arraign him at eight AM.”
* * *
Frank rapped his knuckles on the Police Department’s front door and waited. A tired-looking officer let him in and extended his hand. “Hi Frank. Sergeant Limos. Sorry about this.”
“What the hell happened?”
Limos shook his head and said, “Your partner is in a real bind. He went to his ex-wife’s house all liquored up, demanding to see his kids. His car is sideswiped to shit.”
“How many cars did he hit?”
“No clue. We don’t even know where that occurred. Hopefully they were out of town, if you catch my drift,” Limos said. “I won’t be offering any information on that aspect.”
“Are you going to charge him?”
“Not unless I have to. The ex was pretty hot-to-trot when I left, but I’m hoping she cools down by tomorrow morning. One thing, though. He’s not allowed back there, or I am going to lock him up. No seeing the kids, no going into the neighborhood, none of it until further notice. Make sure he understands that.”
“Jesus,” Frank whispered. “What the hell happens now?”
Limos clapped him on the shoulder and said, “Take him home and pray for the best. Hey, let me ask you something. How’s the Chief holding up?”
“Holding up over what?”
Limos shook his head, “Has to be a terrible thing to lose one of your guys. All the time he’s got on the job and nothing like that ever happened. Now, as he’s getting ready to ride off into the sunset, tragedy strikes.”
“He seems to be doing just fine,” Frank said.
“Such a shame. I feel bad for the guy. All those years in police work with no problems, and then he has to deal with a tragedy like that. Let him know I was asking about him, huh?”
“Heck’s widow and kids are okay too, in case you were wondering,” Frank added.
“Sure, sure,” Limos said. “Your partner’s right this way.”
Frank followed Limos down the hall to the interview room and saw Vic sitting at the table, hunched forward. Frank opened the door and said, “Get your shit, let’s go.”
Vic grabbed his coat and stood up, his face red and sullen. He shouldered past Frank down the hallway toward the front door. Frank unlocked his car and Vic got in and slammed the door behind him. Frank got into the car and started the engine. “Just don’t say anything, all right?” Vic said. “I don’t want to hear it.”
“Don’t want to hear it?” Frank said.
“That’s right. I don’t want to fucking hear it. I don’t give a shit, so fuck off.”
Frank grabbed the steering wheel so hard he thought it might break. He gritted his teeth and yelled out, “You are a fucking idiot! You preach all this holier-than-thou bullshit about The Job and how great you are at it, and then you go and do something stupid enough to get fired and arrested. For what? Because your ex-wife is a cunt? Okay, she’s a fucking cunt. The kids will grow up and see it for themselves someday, but now you aren’t even allowed to see them anymore because you act like the dirtballs we deal with every day. You’re supposed to be better than they are, Vic, not emulate them!”
Vic didn’t respond. He turned and looked out the window. “I don’t care anymore, Frank. I just want it to end.”
“Good. Go end it then. What the fuck do I care?” Frank slowed the car down to stop at a red light and took a deep breath. “Listen, it’s late and I’m upset. Let’s just—”
Vic grabbed the door’s handle and popped it open. He was out of the car before Frank had time to shift into park. “Where are you going? It’s the middle of the night and we’re miles from your house.” Vic was already off of the road, heading into the woods. Frank stood up from the driver’s side and said, “Hey! Get back in the goddamn car, Vic! This isn’t funny. My knee hurts. I’m exhausted. I will leave your ass here.”
Vic spun around and glared at Frank, his eyes red and streaming with tears. “I am sick of being used by everyone around me, Frank. I give everything I have to Danni, and she only ever wants more. It’s never enough. I give everything I have to the Chief, and he only shines me on with promises that will never come true. The only time I feel alive is when I’m standing in blood and guts or talking to child molesters, Frank. Don’t you see how fucked up that is? For one second, try and imagine how fucked up that is.”
“Maybe you need a different job.”
“Do you know why I became a cop? I was curious,” Vic said. “I wanted to peek behind the curtain of evil, but what I saw can’t be unseen, Frank. No matter how hard I try. All I had to hold onto was the kids, and without them, it’s like the lights have all gone out.”
Frank balanced on the roof of the car, breathing sharply to try and fight through the pain, “Just get away from it then, Vic. Quit. Go find something that makes you happy. I’ll help you look.”
“And do what? Stock shelves? Ring a register? The only thing I’m qualified to do is make a seventy-five year old feel good enough about raping a child that he confesses to it. My whole life is a sick joke, Frank, and I’m done. I’m just done.”
“You’re not done,” Frank said. He moved to close his door and barked in pain as his knee gave out. “Hang on, Vic,” Frank gasped. He climbed on the asphalt to get to the front bumper, pressing himself up against the hot headlights. “Vic? Vic!”
He worked his way across the hood, hand over hand, limping to the passenger side of the car. He caught a glimpse of Vic in the distance, running into the woods, going toward the darkness.
13
There was a boatman standing on a dark shore, holding a lantern. The lantern’s flame flickered in the wind as Frank approached. He walked across the grey shale and it crunched like bones under his feet. The boatman was hooded and long flowing robes covered his frame. He extended a hand toward him and Frank stopped walking.
“What do you want?” Frank said. “Why am I here?”
The boatman did not respond. Shale cracked and broke behind him and Frank turned to see a man approaching the boatman. “Hi, partner.”
Frank’s mouth opened to speak but nothing came out. “Heck?” he finally whispered.
“In the flesh,” Joseph Hector said, smiling. “Well, not really. You get the idea.”
The boatman turned his hand toward Hector, and Hector snarled, “You already got my money, you son of a bitch. Get your hand out of my face.”
The boatman turned back to Frank and presented his open hand again. His lantern’s light cast strange shadows on the shore as the black sea splashed against the sides of his boat. “Is that what he wants?” Frank said.
Hector put his arm around Frank and said, “Not from you my friend. Go back that way.”
Frank looked back across the gray dunes. “There’s nothing out there.”
“Just keep walking until you find something.”
Hector turned to leave and Frank grabbed him by the arm, “Don’t go. I have so much to say to you. So much to ask.”
“I can’t go with you, Frank. I have to stay here.” Hector made a fist with his right hand and blew into the center of it, producing two small pieces of wax in his palm. He took Frank’s hand and dropped them into it and said, “Put these in your ears and never take them out.”
Something was coming over the dunes toward him, crunching the shale as it walked. The winds rose, blowing dust into his eyes and bitter saltwater from the black sea into his mouth. He lifted his hands to block his face, trying to see who was coming, but all he could hear was the sound of something coming closer.
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