True Evil_A fast-paced psychological thriller that will keep you hooked Read online

  Mutely, I took the bill and stuck it into a back pocket in my pants. “No problem. Where were you?”

  She smiled at me, her eyes glittering fetchingly. “Why? You missed me?”

  “Yeah, I did,” I retorted, knowing that she hadn’t expected me to acknowledge that.

  Her smile grew a tad. “I went to see my mom in Jersey. She wasn’t feeling well.”

  “Oh. You just got back?”

  “No, I’ve been back a couple of hours. I just went down to the bodega to pick up some chocolate.” She held up a large bar wrapped in green. “I’m having a sweet tooth today. I’d invite you in, but I have to study for a test tomorrow night. Criminology final. Very challenging.”

  “Oh,” I said and took a step back. “Well, don’t let me disturb. Get going cramming! Good luck on the test.” I raised a hand goodbye, then walked down the stairs to my own place.

  As I stuck the key into the door, I noticed that my own door was unlocked as well. I frowned as I pulled it open all the way. It was dark and quiet in the apartment. I was one hundred percent sure I hadn’t forgotten to lock it this time, either. I could remember clearly having locked it before I’d left earlier in the evening. So why was it open now?

  Switching on the lights, I moved from room to room carefully, ensuring I had a view of the insides before I entered. All that I found was an open window, a mild breeze making the curtains flutter. I didn’t think I had opened that window, either, but that I wasn’t entirely sure of.

  I plopped down on the loveseat in the living room and put my feet on the coffee table. Mom had obviously not been here as she had been with me the entire time at her new home. So then who had been in here? And why?

  It suddenly struck me that it must have been Sophie. Her having come out of my apartment right before I spotted her in the stairs could very well be the reason I hadn’t heard the building door slam shut. Mom could have given her a copy of the keys to get in here.

  The more I considered this possibility, the more certain I felt this was so. I wondered what Sophie had been doing at my place. She must have heard me about to enter and ceased the opportunity to escape when I had gone up to her floor. Slowly, I scanned the area around me, hoping I’d spot something that looked different. I couldn’t see anything. I got to my feet and repeated the same process in the kitchen, the bathroom, and in the small bedroom. Nothing seemed out of place.

  I scratched my head. It was too much of a coincidence for Sophie to show up so suddenly and quietly that she just had to have been the person in here. If only I could figure out why she had come here. I wasn’t about to ask her. I sighed heavily. As nice as she seemed, I doubted that I’d be able to convince her to come over to my side. I wasn’t naïve any longer; money spoke loudly and Mom had lots of it. She could afford to pay Sophie well. Much more than me.

  The thing that made the most sense to me was Sophie planting microphones and/or cameras Mom would use to spy on me. I had already checked the apartment for anything that seemed to be either a camera or mic the first night I got here, and the place still seemed clean of surveillance items. Then again, these days they probably had things so tiny that I wouldn’t be able to spot them easily, so I couldn’t completely write off being watched at all times.

  I went back to the loveseat and sat down, hoping that I at least would get some sleep tonight. With all that was going on, I needed my rest. That was rarely a guarantee, of course. I honestly didn’t think I’d be able to sleep straight through a night before I had finished my business with Mom. Tomorrow afternoon she was going to take Ariel to the country house and show him my work, which consisted mostly of photographs. I had more than twice as many framed pics as paintings. I could only pray they were good enough for Ariel, or he might change his mind about me becoming his protégé.

  13

  When I woke up the following morning, I had decided that I would tail Sophie and see what she was up to. It seemed to be the most efficient way to find out more about her and, in extension, what Mom was up to. It was also less problematic if Sophie caught me spying on her. She was going to school to take a test there tonight. As soon as I got out of work, I’d head over to John Jay College of Criminal Justice and track her down.

  As I left my apartment to head to Laslo’s shortly before ten, I spotted my lanky, 30-something neighbor coming down the stairs from the floor above. His stubbly face was pinched like the last time and he was carrying a worn brown leather briefcase under his arm. He ran a hand over his ashy blond, shaggy hair, smoothing it. At the sight of me, he scowled and shuddered slightly, then he picked up his pace as though he wanted to get away from me. He avoided making eye contact as he hurried past. The words good morning that had been about to come out of my mouth remained there, and I just glanced at his sweater-clad back as he disappeared. Feeling stumped, I wondered what his problem was. It was the second time I had seen him. He must be a miserable person or why else did he behave so strangely?

  Maybe he recognized me from the papers, I mused and locked my door. Nah, I thought as I walked down the stairs myself. I hadn’t been in the papers for several years and I didn’t look the same any longer, no matter what Sophie claimed. Someone who studied criminology at John Jay and had a special interest in people like me might recognize me, but hardly a regular dude. Unless he knew Sophie, that is. Maybe she had told him about me. Told him I was a paroled double murderer. I’d ask her when I got the chance.

  The day proceeded without anything else unusual taking place. I was on the subway into the city by the time it was three p.m. I was lucky with connections and arrived at the station nearest Sophie’s school only twenty minutes later. I had no idea who could provide me with the information I needed, just that it should be fairly straightforward to get it. I mean, how many criminology finals could be held tonight? I couldn’t imagine there were more than maybe two. Sophie should be at one of them.

  As I entered the campus, I noticed a couple of girls walking arm in arm, laughing about something. They were heading toward me, so I figured I could ask them if they knew where the place to take the criminology final was located.

  I puffed up my chest and took a deep breath to fight the nerves that suddenly materialized inside me. I wasn’t used to talking to girls and I didn’t want to come off as a total loser by stuttering or something. One of them spotted me and smiled, which made me relax. I returned her smile.

  “Hi,” I said, my voice croaking slightly. I quickly cleared my throat and spoke in a deeper tone, hoping she hadn’t noticed: “Do you know where the school holds the finals for criminology?”

  Her friend, who had black-framed glasses and short blue hair that she probably thought made her look cool, snarkily answered, “At the same place they hold all the finals. Where else?”

  It took all I had not to tell the broad to go screw herself. Instead, I smiled and said, “Really? I was told the criminology one was given at another place.”

  “No,” the nicer-seeming chick, who had normal brown hair and a friendly face, said. “I’m a criminology major. We take our finals at the Yeton Hall like all other majors.”

  “Oh okay,” I said, glad she had inserted herself into the conversation. I focused only on her when I added, “My girlfriend is a criminology major, too. Her name’s Sophie Restivo. You know her?”

  The brunette screwed up her face. “I do know one Sophie, but I don’t know what her last name is. We’re not close.” She lit up. “She seems very nice, though. Very pretty too.”

  “Oh, she’s a knockout,” I agreed emphatically, grinning at her. “I’m very lucky.”

  “Yeah, looks are all that matters when it comes to girlfriends, huh?” the blue-haired chick snapped, glaring at me. “Come on, Emma. We have better things to do than talking to this meathead.” She tugged at her friend’s arm and the two got going again. Before they disappeared behind the corner of a building, Emma shot me an apologetic look. I chuckled, then looked around for other people to speak to. I needed to find o
ut where Yeton Hall was located.

  I walked around the campus until I spotted a nerdy-looking, short chick that should be able to answer my question. I stopped before her, which almost resulted in her walking straight into me, crashing her face to my chest.

  “Excuse me,” she muttered and attempted to walk around me.

  “No, excuse me,” I countered. “Do you know where I can find Yeton Hall?”

  She waved a hand at the last building in a row of three to the left of us. “The light yellow one. Do you see it? It’s the one at the end. It says Yeton Hall on it.”

  “Yeah, I see it. Thanks so much.”

  She didn’t bother to answer, just kept going. I shrugged and hurried over to the last building, which was made of limestone unlike most other buildings on the campus that were made of steel and glass. Like the girl had stated, it did say Yeton Hall above the entrance.

  I walked up the two stone steps and opened the heavy door and entered. I was inside a giant hall with ceilings far above my head. Young people were crossing the space, some walking up the stairs in the middle. Looking around, I saw a woman with short hair like a boy and thick-lensed glasses seated behind a desk in a corner. She was scribbling something on a paper. I walked up to her and asked with a pleasant smile: “Hi, my girlfriend is supposed to take an exam in criminology here tonight. Do you happen to know when it’s over? She never told me and I want to pick her up afterward so we can go celebrate it’s finally over.”

  She peered at me through those glasses while holding a pen up in the air, her eyes giant like an owl’s.

  “There’s no criminology exam here tonight,” she answered.

  I tilted my head. “Really? Are you sure?”

  “Positive. The finals won’t start until Monday the 20th. It’s the same every year. You must have misunderstood your girlfriend.”

  “Huh. I don’t think I did. Is it possible that she’s taking an exam that’s only meant for her? Like, maybe she’s arranged to have it taken earlier for some reason?”

  Her eyes narrowed behind the glasses. “If that were the case, wouldn’t you, being her boyfriend, know about it?”

  I opened and closed my mouth a couple of times, feeling speechless.

  “That would be very unusual anyway,” she added before I could say anything. “Why don’t you ask her?”

  “If I ask her, she’ll know I’m up to something. I want to surprise her. She’s been studying very hard for this test and deserves a nice surprise dinner.”

  She regarded me for a couple of seconds, then said curtly, “Go talk to the people in the next building. That’s where the teachers and the TA’s hang out when they don’t have class. In the lounge. Find out who her criminology teacher is. He or she should be able to tell you if she’s arranged to take the finals in advance.”

  “Thanks, I’ll do that.” I turned around to leave when I realized I didn’t know where in the building the teacher’s lounge was located. “Um, where exactly is the lounge?”

  She pushed her glasses higher up her nose. “Ask the security guards inside. They can show you.”

  “Will do. Thanks very much.”

  14

  I left Yeton Hall and took a left toward the building that contained the teacher’s lounge. I was only halfway there when I suddenly spotted Sophie walking along the long grass-covered mall in the middle of campus. Wearing a green coat, she was walking away from me. I shielded my eyes from the sun to get a better view; I had to be sure they weren’t playing a trick on me. Squinting, I took a second look. No, it was definitely her, and it seemed she was leaving the campus. At least she was heading in the direction of the entrance.

  I had no idea if she had seen me, but if I had to guess, I didn’t think so. I jogged after her as she made her way toward the street that ran alongside the college entrance, keeping a comfortable distance between us.

  She did leave the campus and took a left on the street, heading uptown. Lots of people were moving between us, so I didn’t worry she would spot me if she were suddenly to turn around. In fact, I should get closer to her so she didn’t slip away from my clutches now that I had stumbled upon her so inadvertently.

  We covered about ten blocks and then she walked into a crowded Starbucks near Central Park. She placed herself in line, right behind a black dude with dreadlocks. Stifling a yawn, it struck me that I could use some caffeine; I had as usual not slept much the night before. I wasn’t about to risk lining up and having her spot me, though. I needed to keep a low profile and remain in the corner where I had positioned myself; here, I could slip behind people if she looked in this direction.

  My cell phone rang then, making me wince. I reached for it in my back pocket and checked to see who was calling me. Mom. Ugh. Did I really want to talk to her right now? Well, I didn’t ever want to talk to her, but now was not convenient. As I was about to send the call to voicemail, I remembered that she was going to show Ariel my artwork. Given that it was very late in the afternoon, that might have happened now. She was likely calling me to tell me what he had said about it. Maybe I should talk to her; it wasn’t like I was near Sophie, risking her overhearing me. I hesitated for a few seconds before sending the call to voicemail after all; it wouldn’t change anything if I got the verdict now or later. I could wait a few minutes.

  I put the phone back in my pocket. Before I could reach it, however, a big figure walked into me and the phone slipped out of my hands.

  “I’m so sorry, man,” a guy about my size but much older and in a business suit said. He squatted down to pick up the phone for me and scrutinized it for a moment, then handed it to me. “Looks like it’s okay.”

  “Thanks,” I muttered and took it. The phone did appear unharmed from the fall. The guy scuttled away before I could say anything else. Keeping the phone in my hand, I turned toward the line with Sophie only to discover that she was gone.

  What the f…

  Frantically, I looked around the medium-sized establishment. I couldn’t spot her anywhere and the coffee shop wasn’t that packed. I squeezed my hands into fists, quietly fuming. Where the hell did she go? I glanced over at the other end of the long counter to see if she was waiting to pick up her drink, even though she could hardly have ordered and paid for it in the time I had looked away. It had only been a matter of thirty seconds and there had been about five people ahead of her in the line.

  I gritted my teeth. Where the hell is she? It seemed like she had left the coffee shop, because she was nowhere to be found. That meant I should be able to spot her on the street if I hurried up. I was standing fairly close to the only exit. Heading over there, I pushed the door open and walked outside. I swiveled my head left and right, hoping to detect Sophie’s brown-haired head bobbing among all the others on the street. No such luck.

  Maybe she just went to the bathroom, I mused, and went back inside. As I searched for the public restroom in the Starbucks, I scanned the people. Still no sight of her.

  I reached the restroom just in time to see a tall woman with curly red hair exit.

  I hurried up to her. “Excuse me, did you see a girl with long brown hair in there before you went inside?” I indicated the bathroom she had left.

  “No, it was empty.” She walked past me and dropped off a key to an employee behind the dark green counter.

  “Fuck,” I hissed between clenched teeth. Where the hell did she go? I walked back out to the main area and couldn’t see her anywhere. I sighed heavily. Well, there was nothing I could do about it now. She was gone. Maybe she had changed her mind about getting something and left the coffee shop before picking up anything. Yes, that must be what had happened. I must have just missed her walking out to the street.

  I couldn’t help but wonder if the reason she had darted out of there was because she had spotted me. It was possible she’d noticed me when I was busy with my phone and the clumsy dude who’d walked into me.

  Either way, there wasn’t much I could do but to cut my losses. I might
as well get a large coffee to stay alert, I decided and stifled another yawn, walking up to the line. It had gotten even longer. As I waited for my turn, I pulled out the phone from my pocket and listened to the voicemail Mom had left me:

  “Ariel liked your stuff. He wants to talk to you. Call me as soon as you hear this.”

  That was it. No how are you, no goodbye. Mom had not been happy having to make that call. Her voice had sounded strained and fake nice. A lopsided grin curled my lips; Ariel must have been standing next to her when she’d called me.

  I dialed Mom’s number and waited for her to pick up. She did after four rings had gone through and the call had nearly gone to voicemail:

  “Hello.”

  “Hi, Mom, it’s me, Shane. I heard your voicemail. Is Ariel there?”

  “Yes, he is. Hold on.”

  There was some rustling on the other side of the line, then Ariel’s voice: “Shane?”

  “Yes, this is he.”

  “This is Ariel. Shane, I love your art. You are a very talented boy. You need to paint more, and you will now that you’ll have your own studio. You can do photos, too, but you have to keep painting. We’ll have an exhibition of your work in my house when you have completed several paintings and I’ll invite lots of important people. I can guarantee you, they’ll love you!”

  “Um, okay. That’s great. I can’t wait to start!” I did my best to sound excited. “When can I see the studio?”

  “We can meet there tomorrow after five and I’ll give you the keys. I’ll text you the address.”

  “Sounds good.” We spoke some more, Ariel informing me that he wanted to hang a couple of my framed photos on his penthouse walls and asking if I was okay with that. How could I say no? I told him to pick as many as he wanted and then we disconnected.

  Content, I put away the phone. I might have lost track of Sophie, but that was okay, as it should only be a matter of time before Mom’s own husband would be eating out of my hand.