Hunt Evil, page 12
“Oh,” I said, trying to hold his gaze that kept flickering. Was he lying to me? But why would he be lying to me? “Hey, I need to use your bathroom. I’ll be right back.”
“Okay. Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”
I went over to the hallway where the bathroom was and entered it. I didn’t really need to use the bathroom; I just wanted a little time to pull myself together. Sinking down on the closed toilet seat, I leaned back against the cool tank and allowed myself to relax. I felt convinced Steve was lying to me about those bruises on his face. It really bothered me that he had done that. Why would he do such a thing? We were friends and I told him everything. Well, almost everything. I hadn’t told him about the handgun I had found in my nightstand. I would eventually, though. When the right moment materialized. So far, it hadn’t.
I saw the shoe when I had been seated on the toilet for at least a minute, pondering Steve’s odd behavior. The red little doll shoe was placed on a messy shelf at the other side of the bathtub, barely visible. At first, I didn’t believe I was actually seeing the shoe but that it was just a hallucination. It had to be. I mean, why would Steve have the other shoe belonging to Neera’s doll? There was absolutely no reason for that. Of course it was a hallucination. I removed my gaze, not able to stomach watching it any longer.
I stayed there for a while longer, convinced the shoe was just a figment of my very active imagination. The fact that it was so active lately was bothersome. I could recall a couple of other items I had laid eyes on recently that I was now sure had been hallucinations, too. I could hardly wait till I got to talk to Dr. Navarro about it. Something wasn’t right with me.
I forced myself to keep looking into the mirror in the medicine cabinet above the sink as I washed my hands. My face was paler than normal and my light brown hair could use a cut, not to mention a comb-through. I looked like I had just rolled out of bed. I dried my hands with the guest towel and ran a few fingers through the mess that was my hair, smoothing it out as much as I could. Then I couldn’t hold it any longer, so I turned to the shelf for another glance. I had to make sure it was no longer there.
But it was there, the tiny red patent-leather Mary Jane. I stared at it, a wave of discomfort moving through me. I walked around the bathtub and picked it up. No, that didn’t seem like a hallucination. I put the shoe in my pocket, thinking that I would ask Steve if he could see the shoe to be sure my mind wasn’t playing tricks on me.
But as I unlocked the bathroom door, I came to my senses. What the hell am I thinking? I can’t ask Steve about the shoe! As much as I didn’t want to believe it, the fact that the shoe was in his place, in his bathroom, could only mean one thing—he had something to do with Neera’s disappearance. What other reason was there for him to have her shoe?
Fuming with anger now, I had to take a few deep breaths in order to calm down. I had to calm down or I’d kill the guy. I couldn’t just barge out of the bathroom and accuse him of having kidnapped Neera with Mom, pound him until he was no more than a bloody mess, barely breathing. I had to be smart here. Pretend like I had no idea what was going on. See what he had to say to me before I did anything drastic.
“Everything okay?” he asked when I returned to the living room.
“Yeah, fine,” I muttered, attempting a smile. I probably looked like I was in pain instead.
“Why don’t you have a seat?” he suggested, motioning toward the worn canvas couch. “You look distraught. Did something just happen?”
I sat down, facing him where he sat on that chair on the other side of the coffee table. It took everything I had not to throw myself across it and start beating him. If I attacked him, I might not be able to stop hitting him until he was dead or went into a coma. That would not help me find Neera. I had to confront him when I wasn’t as furious as I was in that moment.
I ran my hands slowly over my face to gain time, force the rage inside me to subside. I inhaled through my nostrils. In and out, in and out, in and out. My pulse stopped throbbing in my ear and I was able to think more clearly. I even managed a smile at Steve. Maybe, just maybe that shoe in my pocket wasn’t actually a red doll shoe, but something else. Maybe I had only imagined it was a doll shoe. I had to have someone else take a look before I did something extremely stupid. As soon as I was out of Steve’s apartment, I would verify with someone.
“I’m just exhausted is all,” I told Steve. “What did you want to talk to me about?” I had suddenly remembered that the reason I was there in the first place was because Steve had wanted me to come over so we could talk.
“You and me both,” Steve said and stretched his arms out to the sides, yawning. “I can’t remember the last time I got a full night’s sleep.”
“So what did you want to talk about?” I repeated, feeling edgy again. He was stalling and I didn’t like it.
“Nothing in particular,” he said, sounding evasive now. “I just wanted to see you. See how you were doing. I’m glad you’re going to see Dr. Navarro.” He leaned forward, supporting himself with his elbows on his knees. “I’m worried about you, Shane. All that you’re going through might break you. Make you do something you regret. You can’t self-medicate by drinking alcohol. I know you’re stressed out as hell. You should be. Your crazy mom is out to get you and now she has your kid sister. You’ve been through hell most of your life. But what you need is to talk to a professional like Dr. Navarro, not drink booze to feel better.” He sighed. “Thank God I didn’t have more than the six-pack of beer the other night.”
It might not be a doll shoe. It might not be a doll shoe. It might not be a doll shoe.
Those seven words played in my mind, over and over as I watched him talk.
It might not be a doll shoe. It might not be a doll shoe. It might not be a doll shoe…
The mention of Mom having my kid sister had set me off, and now I was struggling to calm down again. Somehow, I managed to make the rage subside at last.
“Yeah, you’re right,” I replied. “I could definitely use some talk therapy. All this shit is beginning to get to me.” I wasn’t about to tell him that the main reason I had contacted the psychiatrist was to see if she could help me figure out who was working with Mom. All Steve knew was that I wanted to go for a session, let her hypnotize me again. It didn’t matter if Dr. Navarro found out that I was the reason Ariel had died. Shame heated my cheeks as I was yet again reminded of my horrible deed.
“I can totally see that. I’m so glad that you’ll be talking to Dr. Navarro. When are you seeing her?”
“She didn’t pick up. I left a voicemail, remember?”
“Oh, right. Well, she’ll get back to you very soon.”
“Yeah, probably.”
28
I was on the subway when I found a good person to ask about the doll shoe in my pocket. It was raining cats and dogs outside, so no one had been willing to stop and talk to me as I’d left Steve’s apartment building and hurried to the subway station. The only people in the train station had been a homeless guy who stunk and was probably far more delusional than I was, and a black teenager with baggy jeans that hung below his butt and a pair of giant silver headphones that squeezed his head like a high-tech vise. I couldn’t tell if he was stoned or just had that look about him. Either way, he wasn’t a good candidate to verify the shoe.
The Hispanic twenty-something girl next to me on the train was, though. She had long black hair and pretty hazel eyes and was in the middle of reading something on a kindle when I tapped her shoulder lightly.
“Um, excuse me, but could I ask you something?” I said, giving her my nicest smile.
She returned the smile and said, “Sure.”
I showed her the little doll shoe in my palm.
She frowned as she took it in.
“Why are you showing me that?” she asked in a half accusatory tone, the smile gone.
“It’s because I’m not sure what it is. I can’t see well,” I lied.
She looked at me like she thought I was full of shit. “It’s a red little Mary Jane shoe.”
Then she stood up and walked over to the other side of the car and had a seat there, shooting me suspicious glances all the while.
I returned my attention to the doll shoe in my hand and drank it in. She must have assumed it was a tiny baby shoe and that I’m some creepy weirdo who goes around showing it to people, I mused. I supposed I couldn’t blame her; it had been an odd exchange. It wasn’t every day people asked you to identify doll shoes. But I was glad that I had asked her. I knew it was for real now, and that Steve must have something to do with Neera’s disappearance.
Once more, fury surged through me, rushing through my blood like a fast-acting drug, and I trembled with pure emotion. I wanted to punch one of the many windows in the train, but that would be a very bad idea. Instead, I put the doll shoe away and pondered whether I should get off the train and take one going in the opposite direction so that I could get back to Steve and confront the lying, scheming bastard. Make him tell me what he had done to Neera. But I soon thought better of it; he had told me he was heading out for the night as soon as I left, going over to see his older brother and wife for dinner. By the time I had gotten back to his place, which could take me half an hour, he would probably be gone anyway. It was better if I returned late tonight when he would be there again. I would also be calmer and more prepared then. I couldn’t allow my emotions to fully control me. I had to make sure he told me where she was and that he wasn’t lying when doing so. After that, I may or may not kill him.
When I got out of the train, I didn’t go back home, but went for a walk instead. It had stopped raining and the sun had come out from between the thick layer of gray clouds, shining brightly. All of a sudden the city seemed a lot warmer and more welcoming. My phone rang in my pocket when I had been walking for about twenty minutes.
“Hello,” I said without checking who was calling.
“Hello Shane, it’s Anita,” Dr. Navarro’s voice said in my ear. “I heard your message. I’m so glad you called. Sorry it took me a while to get back to you, but I was with patients. I can’t believe she’s kidnapped your sister! I saw it on the news yesterday and had all intentions of getting back to you, but then it got so late, I couldn’t. I could see you right now if you have the time. Or a little later. At my house. I’m done with patients for today. What do you think?”
I thought about her suggestion. I did have the time to go over to her house; the subway to Brooklyn was close to where I was pacing the streets. It was only five o’clock. Steve would hardly be back home until much later, like, at the earliest, at nine or ten. Maybe talking to Dr. Navarro would help center me, make it easier for me to confront Steve in a constructive way and give me the results I wanted.
No, I decided in the end. I couldn’t risk talking to Dr. Navarro right now. I was too upset and she would be able to pick me apart, make me reveal stuff I didn’t want to reveal. She might convince me to go to the FBI and tell them what I had found in Steve’s bathroom. Have the authorities deal with Steve. I didn’t trust the authorities. What if they screwed up? What if they didn’t act quickly enough? No, it was better that I took care of Steve. That I made him lead me to where he kept Neera.
“Thank you so much for the generous offer, but I can’t make tonight,” I said instead. “Do you have time later in the week?”
“No worries. Sure. Let me check my calendar.” Silence ensued for a few beats, then she said, “How about Wednesday at four? Does that work? I could see you in my practice in midtown then. Or do you prefer coming to my house like we used to do?”
“No, I can come to your office. I’ll see you in a couple of days.”
Someone was calling me then. I told her I had to take the incoming call and I switched lines.
“Hello,” I said.
“Shane?” Agent McHenry’s deep voice. “It’s Shephard.”
“Hey. What’s going on?”
“Where are you?”
“I’m in the Garment District, near Times Square. Why?”
“What’s the exact address?”
“Hang on.” I scanned my surroundings until I could see a street sign telling me what street I was on. Seventh Avenue. And I was approaching West 33rd. I told the agent as much.
“We’ll come pick you up. There have been some developments. We can be there in ten minutes. Is there a place you can hang out until we come?”
Again, I took in the area around me and spotted a low-key diner named Rosie’s.
“Yeah, there’s a diner here named Rosie’s. I’ll be in the bar area. What happened?”
I was dying to know. He sounded very serious, his voice tighter than I had ever heard it.
“I’ll tell you when I see you. Be sure you stay at Rosie’s.” With those words, Agent McHenry disconnected the call.
29
Agent McHenry and another man in a beige trench coat strode into the diner shortly thereafter, both of them with grim expressions on their faces. McHenry scanned the surroundings with squinty eyes. It didn’t take long before he had spotted me where I sat on a vinyl-clad stool near the entrance. I slipped off it and went up to meet them.
“What’s going on?” I wanted to know as McHenry motioned for me to come with them after barely having greeted me. We walked out of the diner.
“I need to show you something,” the black agent said tensely and walked toward a dark sedan in which another man sat. “We need you to see something.”
He opened the backseat door and ushered me inside and then he joined me. His friend went around the car and took a seat behind the wheel. We pulled out from the curb and blended with the traffic on the street.
I turned to Agent McHenry, who was staring out the window with a stony face.
“When are you gonna tell me what’s going on? What do you want to show me?” I demanded.
He turned toward me and there was something like melancholy in his hooded dark eyes now. “You’ll see soon enough. We’re almost there.”
He sounded so determined not to talk about it any further that I reluctantly resigned myself to be quiet for the remainder of the trip. It seemed we were about to see something gruesome. When the sedan pulled up in front of a giant slab of a building in off-white stone that bore the words OFFICE OF CHIEF MEDICAL EXAMINER, I filled with terror. I grabbed the agent’s coat sleeve, a chill creeping up my spine.
“Please tell me if it’s Neera,” I murmured, my voice sounding gravelly. “Did you find Neera? Is she dead? Please tell me if she’s dead.”
“No, we did not find Neera,” the agent answered in a surprisingly tender tone. “Come on, let’s go.” He opened the car door.
I exhaled a huge breath of relief as I crawled after the agent out of the backseat. If he’d told me Neera was with the medical examiner, cold and dead, murdered on top of a table, ready to be examined, I didn’t think I would have been able to move. My heart would have stopped beating in my chest, and I, too, would have been cold and dead.
But it wasn’t Neera, he’d said. Neera was still alive, so I could relax at least a little. For now.
We walked in through the revolving glass doors framed by gold-plated edges and shaded by the same kind of shiny gold roof. I was glad now that I had forgotten to stick the gun into my waistline before heading over to Steve’s house. Government buildings such as this one typically had metal detectors and I was in no mood to explain to McHenry why I was carrying a weapon. The agents identified themselves to the security guard and we continued deeper into the building, walking through long corridors and up sets of stairs until we stopped outside a big window in the wall. Gray Venetian blinds covered the window, blocking our view. One of the agents pressed a button next to it and soon a small Indian woman wearing a white doctor’s coat had pulled up the blinds.
Looking into the room, I saw that it was empty except for a sheet-covered body on top of a table. The body was so large there was no question we were dealing with an adult.
Agent McHenry gave the woman a small nod and she reached for the edge of the white sheet, pulling it down over the corpse’s head, revealing the face.
I sucked in a sharp breath when I saw who lay there, her eyes closed. Despite all the bruises, I could instantly see who it was. There was a strange serenity over the wax-like face, like she was glad to be dead at last.
“Is it your mother?” Agent McHenry asked when I kept staring at the face, stunned to see her immobile on that table.
“Yes…” I muttered, unable to remove my gaze from her. Even though the evidence was right there in front of me, I couldn’t believe that I was looking at my mother’s dead body. It all felt surreal, as though I was dreaming. How could she be there, reduced to a lifeless shell? How had she died? How had they found her? When had they found her?
“You okay, son?” Agent McHenry asked softly, squeezing my shoulder with a big hand.
I wasn’t sure if I was okay. First, I had to come to terms with what was going on. Mom, the woman who had given birth to me, raised me, and then tried to destroy me, was dead. The woman who had become my worst enemy could no longer hurt me. I should be pleased, but I didn’t feel pleased. And then I froze when it suddenly occurred to me.
Where was Neera? She had been with Mom.
Maybe Mom couldn’t hurt me any longer, but what about Neera? Had she hurt Neera before she died?
“Did you find Neera?” I asked McHenry in a garbled voice. He was silently contemplating me.
“No, we haven’t,” he replied, sounding almost ashamed. “She wasn’t with your mother.”
“You have no clue where she is?”
“Not at the moment, no.” Yes, that was shame in his voice. With a large helping of guilt.
“Where did you find Mom? And when?”
“Three hours ago. A woman stumbled onto her in an obscure alley in Astoria. Hidden behind some large trash containers. She’s been dead for at least a couple of days. The medical examiner believes she was either strangled or beaten to death, hence all the bruises. We’ll know more when the autopsy is completed.”
