The Rasner Effect (31 page)

Hearing her father’s name, Clara stopped in her tracks. She turned and went to stand near him as he spoke. “Fifty seven years old, one known child, never married. Arrested six times, jailed three. The last one was manslaughter.” Derrick looked up from the screen. He glanced quickly at Rick and Jen and then shot a small look at Clara. “Every single charge is marked as drug related, even the two domestic violence charges. This guy is a real piece of work.”

Clara glared at Derrick through narrowed eyes. Her hands clenched into fists. She’d never heard her father’s entire arrest record. At home, they’d always glossed over each arrest, making it the cops’ fault, and once, a case of mistaken identity.

“Interesting, he’s actually in the same maximum security prison as Trey. It’ll be tough enough breaking one guy out, let alone a second who, quite frankly, we couldn’t bring in anyway.”

Clara let out a loud exhale hoping to get Derrick’s attention. He, however, focused on the computer screen. She took a few small steps closer to the table, but still he remained oblivious to her approach.

“I’m telling you guys, we put this lowlife on the streets, he’ll be back in jail within an hour, and probably over something stupid.”

Derrick’s blunt statement caused Clara’s arms to tremble at her sides. She leaned against the table, into everyone’s direct eyesight. She could barely contain her anger. Although she could not get Derrick’s attention, she did get Jorge’s, who looked at Clara and laughed. This infuriated her even further. And made Jorge laugh even harder.

“What? What happened?” Derrick picked his head up.

“My father is not a lowlife,” Clara snapped.

Derrick shrugged and leaned back in his seat. “Sorry, kid, but we can’t always pick who our parents are.” He leaned back in his chair, folding his hands behind his head.

What made him so superior and perfect? He was a killer, after all, and not even a good looking one. Could he even really hurt, let alone kill, someone with those pencil-thin arms of his?

“Believe me, I know that firsthand,” he said. “Parents can really suck, sometimes.”

“He is not a lowlife!”

She shifted her gaze toward Jorge. He covered his mouth in a mocking fashion. Rick stepped forward. Jen placed her right hand on his arm. Her eyes locked on Clara, and she wore a slight grin.

“How can you be so sure? Kid, do you even know your father?” Derrick motioned at his screen, as if it was the clear and undeniable proof of his argument. “According to this, he’s nine years into a life sentence. How old are you, like twelve?”

“I’m fifteen!”

She lifted her side of the table an inch or so off the floor and slammed it down. The laptop bounced off onto Derrick’s lap. He snatched at the mini-computer, wrapping his arms around it and holding it against his body as if offering protection.

“What the hell is the matter with you, you little brat?” he shouted. Then he slid the computer back on the table.

“Okay, let’s break this up now,” Jen said.

Rick stepped forward and grabbed Clara’s upper arm with his left hand. He yanked her several steps back from the table and leaned her against the wall next to the counter by the sink.

“All right, that’s enough!” Rick shouted over his shoulder. “All of you, enough!”

Rick shot a fierce stare down into Clara’s eyes. Why did he do this, she wondered. He should be shouting at Derrick to stop saying things about her father.

He still held her arm, but relaxed his grip. Clara looked over Rick’s shoulder. Derrick was examining his laptop for damage. Jen walked around the table to him.

“She almost broke it, Jennie,” he whined. “What’s the matter with that little…”

“I’m sure it is fine, Derrick. Just relax, okay?”

“Jorge, shut-up,” Derrick shouted in an attempt to stop the deafening cackle. “I swear, if anything on this is broken, I’m going to get my gun and shoot her myself.”

“Like hell, you will,” Rick said through gritted teeth.

“Gentlemen, please!” Jen turned her head in Clara’s direction and smirked. “No one’s going to die over this…yet.”

Chapter Thirty-Five

Clara breathed deep to calm herself while Rick continued pressing her against the wall. The meeting was over early—her fault, she guessed. The moments passed. Derrick ignored her while Jen was the complete opposite; her attention remained on Clara. Gradually, Clara felt her rage subsiding. Despite the situation, she still felt, for the first time in years, safe.

“It’s just…” she spoke in a low voice geared mainly at Rick, struggling to keep tears at bay. “He’s been there for a long time and he can’t ever get out. I wanted out. I’m sure he does too.” Clara dropped her chin to her chest, defeated. Why would they go to the trouble of breaking out a man they didn’t know? Especially for her, the maid. It would be stupid.

Jen rounded the corner of the table and approached Clara. Rick stepped out of the way. Anxiety bubbled into Clara’s throat. She considered running, either behind Rick for a hiding place or out of the room entirely. She found Jen more frightening than anyone else. This was despite the fact she was only a few inches taller than Clara herself.

“We are all a team here, Clara. We’re a team where everyone has a say and everyone gets what they want whenever possible, so long as it doesn’t interfere with business. However, everyone is also expected to do their part.”

Clara stood speechless, staring at Jen. She was never very good at respecting adults, but in Jen’s case, she didn’t want to say the wrong thing. Jen could kill her without a second thought.

“You and I will sit out the trip to Westchester. We’re going to trust the boys to handle it themselves.” Jen gave Clara a confident smile that made her feel only marginally better. “I have a very special mission for you, young lady. If you’re successful, we’ll discuss your request very seriously.”

“What do you want me to do?” Maybe she wasn’t going to be the maid, after all.

Jen turned away from Clara. “Derrick, take the guys downstairs to that converted warehouse of yours. Get whatever you think you’ll need for the Westchester mission.”

Jen stepped toward Rick, taking him by the arm and once again whispering in his ear. Jorge was the first to leave the room, brushing past Clara and almost knocking her over.

Derrick took a few moments to shut down his laptop and fold it closed. “We can’t bring that guy in. I hope we all understand,” he said.

“We understand,” Jen said. “We’ll take care of it.”

“I’m just making sure, you know.” Derrick threw Jen a mock salute, rose, and left the kitchen.

Jun Sanaga left his chair and rounded the table. He stopped in front of Clara, examining her with the curiosity and interest that continued to make her feel like an animal on display. She straightened her spine and still Sanaga towered over her. Despite his height, Clara stood her ground to show her lack of fear.

Before Clara could even blink, Sanaga’s hand slid against her left cheek with a gold handled switchblade between his thumb and forefinger. She’d seen the knife before, the blade extended about four inches long with Japanese markings along both sides of the handle. The same knife he held against the throat of that boy in the van. Sanaga brought the blade of the knife down toward Clara’s chin. She remained still, never looking at the knife. Instead she kept her eyes pointed straight up into his.

Sanaga returned her defiance with a smile—not a smile of impertinence, but a smile that suggested the beginnings of respect. He brought the knife down from Clara’s face and, with one hand, folded it, making sure she observed how he did it. He then flipped the knife and held it out for her to take.

Clara hesitated. He jiggled it in the air and gestured for her to take it. She seized the knife from his hand, holding it out like a trophy before slipping the knife into her back pocket. Sanaga backed away from Clara and out of the room.

She watched him leave and then turned her attention to Rick and Jen.

“That’s a brave little girl you have there, Rick,” Jen quipped in a tone that made it hard for Clara to guess whether she was joking or serious.

“I told you that,” Rick said with pride. “And she’s smart too, that’s why I wanted her here.”

Clara felt a cold lump in her throat and she looked to Rick for support. He walked over as well, standing next to Clara’s left side. She felt slight comfort in his proximity but her head was spinning.

“When was the last time you saw your mom?” Jen asked.

“Mom.” Like a shot to the stomach, Clara cringed and gushed out a breath. “I don’t want to talk about her.”

“Well, you’re going to talk about her anyway. I hear she wasn’t a very good mother to you, is that true?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Try to relax,” Rick said, going back to lean against the kitchen counter. “Just treat this like we’re back in the therapy suite, discussing your past and working through it.”

Jen gave Rick a quick grin. Her shake of the head showed the humor she found in his statement. After a moment’s thought, Clara understood the joke. Sure, he sounded like a therapist, but was he really one? Had he all this time been a killer in disguise?

“Answer my question, Clara. How long has it been?”

“A very long time,” Clara dropped her head once again.

Rick explained, “Her mother abused and abandoned her. Apparently, she’s a real bitch on wheels.”

“I’d like to meet her. I think you should see her once more as well.”

“No!” Clara’s voice cracked as she forgot her vow to remain calm. “I don’t want to see her ever again. She’s dead in my heart. I want to keep it that way.”

“Why keep it there? She should be dead for real. And that’s what we do.”

Clara’s mouth opened but she just stood in silence, seemingly stunned, unsure how to respond.

“Tell me.” Jen placed both hands on Clara’s shoulders, an action that made Clara tense up. “Does she deserve to die?”

“Yes. Yes, she does.”

“Would the world be a better place without her?”

“Definitely.”

“Now, answer this,” Jen rubbed her hand against the side of Clara’s face, from her hairline down to her chin. “If she were to die, would it only be fair that you be the one to pull the trigger?”

Clara’s eyes widened as she began to see where this conversation was headed. Jen placed her fingers under Clara’s chin and pointed it up so they could look one another in the eyes. Just like she’d thought, they were going to make her kill someone else. Clara’s knees buckled. She grabbed hold of the wall for support.

“Well?”

“I-I think I…it would feel good. But I can’t really kill her…right?”

“Why not?”

“I dunno. It would be wrong…wouldn’t it?”

“Who the hell says?” Rick shouted. “What are you afraid of? Feeling guilty? Do you think she feels any guilt over you?”

Rick took hold of Clara’s arms above the elbows and pulled her toward himself. He then hunched over in order to speak to her face to face. There was both anger and sympathy in his eyes.

“She destroyed your life and then left you alone to live it. She made you suffer and you can believe she didn’t lose any sleep over that. Now, you’re in a position to make her suffer just like she did to you.”

Clara had to admit the thought sounded great; she did want her mother to suffer like she had every single day for her entire life. But could this really be okay?

“Forget for a minute what your mother deserves, Clara.” Rick straightened himself up and stood tall. “How about what
you
deserve?”

Clara leaned back against the wall and rubbed her cheek with the back of a hand. Then she swiped at the drops of sweat on her brow. “I just…I think…she—I do deserve it.” With the decision, Clara felt a strange flow of emotion into her face.

“How did it feel to pull the trigger and see Miller drop to the floor? Or how about watching that asshole teacher get what he had coming? They’ll never be able to hurt you again. I know it was a scary moment, but I’m sure there was a part of you that enjoyed watching them die. It felt right, didn’t it?”

Clara couldn’t suppress a smile. “A little.” But still she couldn’t sleep for the images that kept badgering her head.

“More than a little, I’m sure. The best solutions are the permanent ones. Tonight, you’re going to solve that issue permanently.”

Clara looked back and forth from Rick to Jen, still feeling some uncertainty.

“Take the mission, Clara. Be successful and afterward, we’ll discuss making your father a free man,” Jen encouraged. She patted her on the back. The gesture made Clara tense up once again.

“Y-you’re not coming?” she asked Rick.

“I have my own mission tonight. I have my own demon that I deserve to kill.”

“Think of tonight as a girl’s night out, Duke-style,” Jen told Clara with a smirk. “In fact, afterward, we can even do a little shopping. We’ll get you some nice new clothes.”

Jen’s face cringed. “Particularly ones that don’t smell.”

Clara took a handful of her happy-face T-shirt, which she had been wearing for a number of days and stared down at it, showing some embarrassment. Jen turned away and sauntered to Rick.

“Okay then, you have your mission tonight, and we have ours. I’ll make sure Derrick finds her address if he hasn’t done so already.”

“I know where that bitch lives.” Clara shouted. “She’s in Brooklyn. I think she’s still there.”

“We should confirm that,” Rick said.

Her response was a quick and catty, “Yes, I know.”

“You’re going to be fine, Clara. Tonight, you take what you’re owed. Tonight, the anger starts to go away,” Rick said.

Clara nodded. “I’m going to do it,” she said and then repeated it to herself. “I’m going to do it.”

“And I’m going to catch up with the others and get ready. I can trust the kid in your hands?”

“Of course. I’ll keep you informed,” Jen answered. “You’re taking the van, I assume?”

“Yes, but what about you?”

“Derrick says his neighbors are in Florida. They have a nice car in their driveway, so we’ll borrow it.”

Rick walked past Jen. She stuck her cheek out, like she expected a kiss. She didn’t get one and looked disappointed. Clara nearly laughed as Rick stopped only to whisper in her ear instead, “Just wait, I’m right about this one.”