Superbia (Book One of the Superbia Series) (19 page)

“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.”