True Evil_A fast-paced psychological thriller that will keep you hooked Page 7

  15

  I tried meditation to make myself go to sleep that night. Mom had once taught me how to do it, right before she had gotten me arrested and sentenced for her murders. Back then, I had often fallen asleep when I had meditated—in the middle of meditation— but now I stayed awake the entire time and after, too. It was infuriating as I wanted to be at my very best when I met with Ariel at the studio tomorrow. I wanted him to keep liking me, give him reassurance that he was doing a great thing taking a convicted murderer under his wing. I could give him no reason to change his mind; Mom was surely already working overtime to make that happen.

  At long last I gave up and consoled myself with the fact that lots of coffee would do the trick. I’d be fine.

  Maybe I did doze off an hour or two because I started when the alarm clock went off the next day. Plus, I had a vague memory of Sophie seducing me as we sat in a Jacuzzi together. I spent a few minutes thinking about that scenario while I pleasured myself. Then I got out of bed and headed into the kitchen where I made myself some coffee.

  On my way out the door later, I bumped into Sophie walking down the stairs. She had almost disappeared around the divider when I spotted her.

  “Hey,” I called out, eager to talk to her. She tossed a glance over her shoulder and paused.

  “Good morning, Shane,” she said and smiled brightly. I held her gaze for as long as I could without it seeming weird. I wanted to see if I could notice anything that suggested she had left Starbucks because of me. But there was nothing that indicated that, or she was a great actress like my mom, hiding it well. That could very well be.

  “Good morning,” I said and hurried up locking my door. I wasn’t sure why I bothered; everyone seemed to have keys to get inside anyway. “How did your exam go?”

  She looked confused for a second, but then she snapped to it. “Oh, the exam! I almost forgot about that. I didn’t sleep well last night. But I think I did okay. Maybe not great, but good enough.”

  “That’s good.” I joined her and we walked down the stairs together.

  “You’re up early today,” she commented as we reached the entrance. “Isn’t your lunch shift starting at like ten thirty?”

  “I have an appointment before my shift,” I explained.

  “Oh.”

  “With my parole officer.” Walking down the short path to the street, the grumpy guy who lived above me came toward us. “Not exactly looking forward to it if you know what I mean.” I gave her a meaningful smile. “But I have no choice.”

  “Right,” Sophie said.

  “Good morning,” I called out when he was close enough, making myself smile. Sophie said good morning to him as well.

  He muttered “good morning” back and hurried past us and into the building.

  Sophie and I continued walking. I blew out an annoyed breath. “What’s that dude’s problem? Every time I see him, he’s in a bad mood.”

  “Don’t worry about him. He was born depressed. He hates everybody, not just you. He lives on my floor. Trust me, I have never seen him smile even once.”

  “Oh. That’s good to know. Now I feel a little better.” I chuckled. “I thought that maybe you told him about my crimes.”

  She shook her head, her brown tresses bouncing. “Oh no. I never talk to him.”

  “Okay. Are you heading to school?”

  “Yep. Where are you meeting your parole officer?”

  “On Bergen Street. He wants to meet for breakfast instead of in the courthouse. I’m taking the bus there. You’re taking the subway?”

  “Yeah.”

  I had to make a right to head to my bus stop then. I don’t know what prompted me to say it, just that I couldn’t stop myself before it was too late. Well, the fact that I had developed a crush on this girl was likely the reason: “You know she’s dangerous, don’t you? Crazy and dangerous. You can’t trust her.”

  Sophie looked at me like I was nuts. “What are you talking about?”

  “You know what I’m talking about, Sophie. You’re a very smart girl. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

  A deep wrinkle formed between her well drawn eyebrows. “I seriously have no idea what you’re talking about, Shane.” She put a hand on my arm. “Are you okay? Or are you screwing with me?”

  “No, I’m being dead serious. I’m telling you, you don’t know what you’re dealing with.”

  She shook her head at me. “Okay, you are definitely screwing with me. I have to go now. Have a good day.” She swiveled around and hurried down the street toward the subway station. I stared after her, thinking she was running much too fast for someone with a clear conscience. She knew exactly what I was referring to, I pondered, glad I had blurted out my question now. This time I had noticed that she had reacted, albeit ever so slightly. She had blinked involuntarily as she had taken me in, as though wanting to hide the thoughts going through her head when I put her on the spot.

  When I saw her again, I’d keep pushing her. I sincerely worried about what Mom would do to Sophie if she took a misstep. Well, I’d see how Sophie behaved later, feel her out a little first. It was best if I caught her when she was tired or drunk, or both. I nodded to myself. Yes, I needed to work her when she was vulnerable, get everything out of her then.

  It was only then that I noticed that someone was watching me. I turned my head in the direction of our building and spotted our grumpy neighbor swiveling around and hurrying inside the entrance.

  Was he involved with Mom as well?

  16

  Otto Barini was the name of my parole officer. He was seated in a booth inside the quiet Italian diner, our meeting spot for today. I had only met him once before, while I was about to get released from juvie. Wearing his dark hair slicked back from his high, tan forehead, he was sipping on some coffee when I slipped into the booth. He had a stern, ape-like face with deep-seated brown eyes that appeared to see right through you. I estimated him to be about forty.

  He eyed his watch. “Thirty seconds to spare. Good job on punctuality, Shane.”

  “I would’ve been even earlier if the bus wasn’t late,” I said.

  He studied me for a moment. “How are you holding up? You look tired.”

  I ran a hand through my stubby light brown hair; it had grown almost a quarter inch by now. “Yeah, I’m not sleeping great. It’ll be a while before I can relax enough to get adequate rest.”

  He cocked his head to the side and took me in. “Why do you say that?”

  I shrugged noncommittally. “Don’t know. It’s just the way it is.”

  “Ah.” He nodded as though what I had just said made great sense to him. “What can I get you?” He held up a sweaty palm before I could say anything else. “Wait. Let me guess. A double espresso? Triple?”

  I chuckled at his lame joke. “Yeah, that would be good. And some French toast.”

  “You buying?”

  “Um, sure.” I had been told the meal we’d be sharing would be paid for by the state, but maybe I had misunderstood that part. Now I felt like an idiot assuming so.

  He let out a guffaw. “Don’t worry about it, kid. It’s on me. Well, on the state.”

  “Oh.”

  He turned around and waved over the waitress. I hadn’t been able to read him when we had been introduced, but now I could—and I didn’t like what I saw. He was the kind of guy who took shortcuts. Bribes. A dirty cop. He just had to be on Mom’s payroll, because if I was able to tell he was crooked, she would, too. And she would make the most of it.

  A fifty-something waitress with ratty hair and an emaciated face came over, ready to take our order. Or my order as, apparently, Otto had already told her what he wanted.

  Watching him interact with the woman, I wondered if maybe I was just being paranoid here. Lately, I suspected everyone to be spying on me, helping Mom so that she could get me back in jail. As tired as I was, I couldn’t tell. If the double espresso didn’t make me snap out of my fog, I’d have to buy some caffeine p
ills at the drugstore to be able to think clearly.

  The waitress left and Otto faced me again. “How’s your week been since release?” he asked, placing his elbows on the table. “Well, it’s more than a week now.”

  “Okay,” I said. “I’ve been settling mostly. Gone to work. The gym.”

  “You’re a busboy at a restaurant in Astoria?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. It’s called Laslo’s Taverna. A Greek place. It’s cool. They treat me okay. I’ve been there every day except Sunday. I do the lunch shifts mostly. It keeps me busy.”

  “Good to hear. How do you like your neighborhood? Met any cute chicks yet?” He grinned in an overly suggestive way. I decided that it was best to play along with his sleazy manners; the dude held my life as it was in his hands. I had to make him like me.

  I grinned back. “Yeah, I have a hot neighbor. She’s friendly too.”

  “Good for you. You guys going on a date?”

  “Maybe. Haven’t asked her yet.” What the hell kind of question was that?

  He ran his fingertips over his bushy eyebrows like that would make them less unruly. It made them worse. “Yeah, take your time. You don’t want to appear desperate. Make her want you first.” He winked at me.

  I had to restrain myself so that it didn’t show on my face what a douchebag I thought this dude was. It seemed unfathomable that the NYPD would let a guido like him become a parole officer. The waitress appeared with my double espresso and gave Otto a refill on his coffee.

  “Thanks,” I said to her and poured sugar into the cup before I chugged it. I didn’t care that it was hot; I needed to get my brain back. I didn’t like the fogginess I was living with, a fogginess that seemed to increase with every day. The thick coffee entered my stomach and I felt suddenly much hotter. Hopefully I would soon feel more alert, too.

  “Want another one?” Otto asked, watching me, amused.

  “Sure,” I said. Otto waved at the waitress and indicated with his fingers that I wanted a second cup.

  “Thanks,” I said and gave a grateful smile.

  “Did you meet up with your mother’s new husband and your sister yet?” He dunked lots of half and half into his coffee.

  “Yeah, they were both very nice. It was especially cool to meet my sister.” I thought of Neera then, saw her chubby face in my mind’s eye and was yet again reminded of how I needed to get her away from Mom as soon as possible. I couldn’t allow Mom destroying her life, too. The mere thought of it made me mad. I squeezed my fists beside me on the seat and clenched my teeth together.

  “You don’t look like you were very happy about it,” Otto said, cutting straight through my fury. Instantly, I wiped my face clean of any traces of what went on inside me. Damn. I needed to develop a better poker face. I thought I had already managed that back in juvie. Well, I was clearly slipping now, so I’d better focus.

  “I was just upset by the thought that I was locked up when Mom was pregnant with Neera,” I lied. “It would have been great to have been around from the get-go. You know, when she was born. Now, because of what I did, I’ve missed more than three years of her life. It sucks.”

  “Yeah, it does. So you better behave in the future or you’ll miss the rest of her life, too.” He gave me a smarmy smile to take the edge off what he had just said. It only made it worse. “But you’ll behave, right, buddy?” He placed his hands on the table and leaned toward me.

  Was this guy for real? I wanted to tell him to go fuck himself, but he knew as well as I did that it was something I would never do.

  Unless I caught him doing something really, really bad that I could prove, he could treat me pretty much however he wanted.

  “Of course,” I said, steeling myself as I held his gaze. The least I could do was not to cower. He might get off on toying with me, but he would never see me shrink away from him. I’d been face-to-face with much more intimidating guys. Really, without his power over me, this dude was a joke. But I would never let him know that I thought so. Not until it was safe to do so. Not until I had caught him doing something stupid. Guys like that usually did.

  “Good,” he said and had a big gulp of light brown coffee. The waitress returned then with my second espresso and two plates, one with fried eggs and bacon for Otto and one with French toast for me. I was grateful for the interruption; the air between me and the prick on the other side of the table had gotten difficult to breathe.

  He pushed himself to his feet suddenly. “I need to use the little boys’ room. Feel free to start before me. I’ll be back.”

  He squeezed himself out of the booth at the same time as he asked the waitress where the restroom was. She pointed at the other end of the diner and he headed over in that direction.

  The tempting smell of warm French toast entered my nose then and I reached for the syrup. Drenching the slabs of bread with the amber liquid, I heard a phone ringing. At first I thought it was mine, but on the second ring I realized it was a slightly different sound.

  It suddenly dawned on me where the sound was coming from. From the other side of the table. I got to my feet to see if there was a cell phone on the seat there. All I could see was a white napkin carelessly thrown over the cheap material. When it rang again, I pinched a corner and pulled it off. As I had thought, there was a cell phone hiding underneath, but it had stopped ringing.

  I grabbed the phone, thinking there was no way I’d be able to get into it. People usually had passwords for their devices. Just for the hell of it, though, I swiped the screen with a finger. Much to my surprise, the phone opened and I was in. The screen showed a missing call and a voicemail. I winced when I saw who had called. It was Mom’s number. Why was she calling Otto? It could of course be for a legitimate reason, but probably not. The only way to find out was for me to hear the voicemail. I should be able to tell from the message what she was up to.

  Just as I was about to press the Voicemail key, I caught Otto approaching the table out of the corner of my eye. There was no time for me to listen to it. I couldn’t plausibly explain what I was doing. I dropped the phone and covered it quickly with the napkin, then sat back down, cursing inwardly.

  17

  “What are you doing?” Otto asked, gazing at me suspiciously as he slid into the booth.

  “Um, I had a wedgie and I had to fix it,” I explained with an apologetic grin.

  “Buy bigger pants,” Otto huffed and picked up his napkin, which edges he stuck into his collar. I noticed that he had a hairy chest and a thick gold chain around his neck. He smoothed out the napkin once done, then grabbed his silverware and got ready to eat. I grabbed mine as well and dug into my French toast despite having lost my appetite when I saw who was calling Otto. The espresso had cleared my head somewhat because I was able to think—or maybe it was the adrenaline from all the recent excitement. Either way, the thoughts were rushing through my mind. I had to figure out a way to find out why Mom had called Otto. What she had told him in that voicemail.

  I came up with nothing worthwhile, at least not during the remainder of our meeting. It was over thirty minutes later, after I had explained in detail what I did at work and in the evenings. If I hung out with someone else besides Sophie. Then I was off to work my lunch shift, feeling as watched as ever. Mom had probably planted people to keep watch over me everywhere, hoping to catch me doing something illegal. Not that she would ever tell her plants this was her end goal. No, surely she’d come up with some lame excuse for them to surveil me, claiming she wanted me to always be okay. Claiming she was worried others would bother me because I was an ex-con. And they’d believe her. She was an expert in convincing people to see the world like she described it, empathize with her lies.

  When work was over, I took the subway to the neighborhood where I was supposed to meet with Ariel. I prayed he’d come alone. The last person I wanted to see was Mom.

  Getting to Steinway and 30th Avenue was easy, and I soon found the address the warehouse with the studio was located at. It wa
s nice and warm today, the sun shining from a clear blue sky. I relished the feeling of being able to walk freely outside, still not quite used to it. As I approached the warehouse, which was sandwiched between other buildings, I spotted a black town car with tinted windows pull up in front.

  Ariel came out of the car’s back seat followed by a much smaller figure. I did a double take when I realized who it was—Neera. My heart flushed with warmth. He had brought my sister. Why had he done that? I had gotten the sense that he wanted to keep us apart as much as possible, given my background. At least at the start of Sunday dinner. By the end of it, he had warmed up to me so much, he no longer seemed as worried I’d lead her astray by my sheer presence. Even so, he hadn’t seemed keen on the idea of the two of us hanging out like Neera had suggested several times that night. He must have changed his mind.

  I could feel a big smile having formed on my lips when I reached them. The sun was shining straight into their eyes, so it took a few seconds before they knew it was me. Neera spotted me first and let out a happy shriek: “Shay! Hi, Shay!” She ran over to me with her arms outstretched like the first time we met, demanding that I pick her up. I glanced over at Ariel to ask tacit permission, and he nodded with a smile. I squatted and scooped her up in my arms.

  “I made the mistake of telling her I was going to see you,” he explained with a wry grin. “She wouldn’t let me leave the house unless I took her with me. I didn’t have the heart to say no.”

  “Thanks for bringing her,” I told him, then turned to Neera, who grinned happily. “How are you doing, little princess?”

  “Fine. How are you, Shay? Mom says hi. She couldn’t come with us. She has a headache and has to be alone.” I was amazed by how articulate she was for such a young child.