Steve jumps right for the bag and tears it open. He takes a large handful of stuffing and shoves it right into his mouth.
Fuck me that’s the stuff. He shouts.
The other convicts and their visitors can’t help but stare at this little person rooting around this bag of bread crums and tossing them into his mouth. Creating all kinds of a mess. But, if that were me I can’t say I’d do it any differently. Why the fuck would I care if I dirty this place up a little bit? I’m in here against my will so I’d might as well have control over something. Even if it is something as simple as creating a mess.
How’s everything?
Good. Good. Only three more years to go. Two and a half with good behavior. He muffles.
How have you been behaving?
He smiles at me. Stuffing crums falling from his mouth onto the table and floor.
It’ll probably be three years.
Steve has a little bit of a temper. When he hijacked that truck he told the driver that he had placed a bomb in one of the parcels in the back, and that if he didn’t surrender the vehicle he’d blow it up with him inside. The driver was less than pleased to hear this and made a few personal attacks on Steve before exiting the vehicle. As most people would. God knows I would. Steve didn’t take this too lightly and allegedly went on this whole rant about knowing where the guy lived and where his daughter went to school etc etc. Not that Steve would actually ever hurt a child, but the driver’s eye witness account was pretty tough to read. Fortunately, Steve didn’t have any kind of weapon on his person. Otherwise he’d probably be in here for just about the rest of his adult life.
It’s good to see you, Larry. Thanks for coming as usual. He says.
My pleasure. We gotta’ look out for each other, no?
Speaking of that. Have you seen Katherine? He says as he swallows his last handful of stuffing.
Nope. How about your wife?
Nah she’s locked up in some jail in Maine. Crazy bitch tried to break one of her lesbian lovers out of jail and got herself caught. He says and immediately shrugs it off.
How about the kids? You seen them?
Steve puts away the rest of his stuffing and breaths a long, hard sigh. He leans forward and glares directly into my eyes. Those little beady eyes of his. As blue as the ocean, yet as menacing as a shark’s.
That’s why I asked about Kath, Larry. When my wife was jailed for the fiftieth time, give or take a couple, she gave full custody of our children to Katherine and Jared.
Ugh. I fucking hate the J word. I fucking hate hearing that name. Wait-
What? Katherine has your kids? Where? Where do they live?
I’m sorry, Larry. I have no idea. My wife and I spoke on the phone just a month ago. Right when it happened. She says they moved out of state. She didn’t say where.
Fuck me. Fuck Jared. Taking my family away from me both physically and mentally. I just can’t catch a fucking break. This is all Jim Duke’s fault. If he didn’t exist I would still have my family. Who knows, if Duke didn’t exist maybe Steve would still have his family too… Who the fuck knows.
I’m sorry, Steve. I’d better get going.
No, I’m sorry that you had to hear it from me. But please stay. I actually have something to tell you that you might find interesting. He exclaims
What’s that?
God damnit I need a cigarette. He better make it quick.
There are people in here who lost family in that, uh, Cult thing that happened a few years ago-
Are you referring to the mass suicide?
Yes, keep your fucking voice down. He says.
Okay. And?
Well people in here were livid about that for a long time. They still are, as you can imagine. They started talking. Trying to connect the paper trail left behind it. There are men in here that want to kill everyone involved. Detectives included. He explains.
Steve, there are many men in this prison that would like to see me dead…
Just listen to me. These guys traced the poison the Cult used all the way back to the supplier. They had guys on the outside torture him for information. He gave a name. Well, more of an abbreviation-
R.A?
So you were already aware. I thought that might help. Sorry Steve, that was all I had. He says as he removes his forearms from the table and sits back upright in his stool.
That’s okay, Steve. Thanks for trying to help. I’d better get going.
I understand. He says as he sticks out his hand.
It’s funny. Little people don’t really have small hands. Well, they do. But they also don’t. Relative to their size I actually think they’re quite big. Shaking Steve’s hand is like shaking a fourteen year old boy’s hand. Wait-
Where did this supplier live?
Somewhere up North Country. Northern Maine I think. Close to the Canadian border.
Interesting.
Chapter 12. The Meeting
December 24, 2018
Aurelia Pelisson
Christmas Eve. Not a bad day to meet your half-sister. It’s not like either of us will be doing Christmas this year regardless. You know, being dad-less and all. These meeting rooms seem a little more like interrogation rooms. Maybe that’s what they actually are. Detective Pete said they’re not, but I have a feeling that guy says a lot of things he doesn’t really know the answer to. Why is he just in the corner staring at me? He hasn’t said anything in like five minutes. And the last thing he asked was if I liked the Red Sox. Is he trying to buy time or something?
Detective Pete’s phone notifies a message. He picks it out of his pocket to read it.
Sis is here. You ready?
I’m ready.
Deep breaths, Aurelia. She is just your sister. She’s your blood. You guys are probably extremely similar. Who cares what Pete said about her? Maybe his description will be totally inaccurate. Maybe she’s not sweet and loving. Maybe she’s a bitch like me. I wonder what she looks like. What if she looks exactly like me? I don’t know if I would like that. I really fucking hope she’s not prettier than me. I don’t need that in my life. There’s enough dragging me down.
You’ll do great. I’ll be just behind the glass listening in. But if you guys start to get very personal, I’ll shut my ears. Au Revoir, Aurelia. Detective Pete says awkwardly.
That was weird. Does he like me?
Suddenly, the interrogation room door slowly opens. There she is. God, she is beautiful. Fuck. That fucking sucks. But she is gorgeous holy shit. And fifteen years old? What I would have given to look like that at fifteen years old.
Lydia?
She pauses. She’s afraid. I can hear her mother outside the door talking to Pete. I wonder what she’s like. She must be better than my mother. Because why the fuck else would dad leave her. Why have a nine when you can have a ten. Why have chicken when you can have steak. Why be a Pelisson when you could be an Arnold?
When was the last time you saw dad? She says to me.
Breaking the ice with that question? Interesting. She’s timid. It works for her. The innocence. But the last time I saw my father, I can remember well. I don’t know whether I should tell the story or not. I don’t know what she does and doesn’t know.
Well? She says.
Impatient. There’s the dad in her.
The last time I saw Dad was when he left us. My mom and me. I’m not sure you’d want to hear it.
Why wouldn’t I want to hear it?
It’s a hard story to hear. It’s violent and involves a lot of evilness.
Dad? Evilness? There’s no way I’m sorry-
Jesus fucking Christ she’s still defending him. The man killed three hundred people in one day. That alone is really fucking evil. How can she not come to terms with this?
Lydia, the father that I knew was probably different than the father you knew. He was brutish, manipulative, and yes, evil. I won’t sugar coat it. He was evil.
FUCK YOU how dare you say that about my dad. He was the
most loving, best father in the world. I can’t even believe you could say something like that about him. I just don’t. He was the best dad ever. He gave so much love and supported me and my mom through all the hard times. I won’t allow you to say anything bad about him.
Step back, step back. Do not fight her she is your sister. We both knew that the tensions would be high. Well, this actually exceeded my expectations of how high the tensions would get. Regardless, I need to diffuse this somehow.
Or do I?
Lydia needs to know what kind of man Dad really was. I can’t let her live her life defending this man. He does not deserve to be defended. He deserves to be fucking ass-fucked in Plymouth state.
But don’t you want to hear my story? The last time I saw Dad?
Yes. I do, I’m sorry. She says as she slides back into the steel chair.
As I said, it was the day that he left my mother and me. I don’t remember the exact date, but it was sometime in the winter. We were at our family cabin up in Maine. Dad built it with his bare hands. I don’t know if he ever brought you up there. It was old. It didn’t even have electricity. It was approaching nighttime and the sun was setting over the trees behind our house. We used to go out and watch it every evening, putting lawn chairs in the snow and start a fire. Dad said it was an aphrodisiac. He actually said that to a kid. But that’s aside the fact. This one particular day he had gotten some bad news from his friend that lived a few towns over that owned a factory or something. I remember that because he kept saying his name that day. I don’t remember it anymore. He was screaming into his phone talking about some plan that he had. Blah blah blah. So my mother walks to him to console him, and that’s when he hit her. He was so enraged by the news he had gotten that he hit my mother. And the worst part? He didn’t even show remorse. He turned and looked me dead in the eyes and said “Grow up to be like your mother, and that’ll happen to you too”. So, being the rebellious little shit that I was, I grabbed the phone out of my dad’s hands and threw it in the fire. I told him if he kept talking “mean” to people on his phone that it would make mom even more sad. That’s how innocent I was. That I thought she was sad rather than oppressed. So he looks at me with a look I had never seen before. Like all the love had been flushed away and all that remained was an empty shell of a viscous human being. He grabbed me by the hair and pulled me toward the fire. My mom started screaming, she jumped on his back and started punching him in the back of the head. He didn’t like that. He threw me onto the fire and turned to my mom. I was lucky enough that he threw me with such force that I immediately rolled out of the firepit unharmed. But mom was in trouble. She was pacing backwards as he gradually approached her with a mean look in his eye. The sun was setting and darkness was seeping in. And the scariest part? We were all alone. Our cabin was like a beacon in the desert. The only sign of civilization for miles. Nobody could hear us scream. I started running for mom. Dad was getting close to her. Too close. So I picked up a rock and threw it at him. It missed and smashed a window in the front of the cabin. I think the smashing glass must have woken something inside him. He snapped. And without hesitation, he just gave up, walked to his car, and drove off into the night, leaving us all alone in a cabin without electricity for three days when eventually a mailman came knocking. That was the last time I saw Dad.
And just as I expected silence, followed by tears.
What do you mean? That- That can’t be true he would never do something like that.
Well he fucking did. I know you loved him but he tore my fucking family apart. He was the worst person I had ever met and I hope to God he is dead.
What do you mean “hope”?
Well Detective Pete said that they haven’t found a body yet. There’s a chance he is still alive, right?
Suddenly, Detective Pete comes bursting through the interrogation room door.
Woah woah okay. I think time is up. He says as he catches his breath.
If you’re out of breath from running between the room next door and here you need to seriously get your life in order. I mean I smoke weed, but I don’t lose my breath running at a brisk pace for ten seconds.
I want to keep talking. Lydia exclaims.
Well you can’t, because this is a federal case and anything you say could and probably will be used as evidence. Don’t forget, you two are his daughters. I don’t think of either of you as suspects but I’m one of the few. You don’t want to start talking about things that could get you into trouble.
We pause. I had no idea I could be labelled as I suspect. How could I not have known that? When something mysterious like this happens, they always go for the family first. The family might know something that nobody else does. That can be of real help to the police. I wonder if that’s why Pete brought us in? So that he could obtain more information. So that he could see if one of us had something to do with it. I bet that’s why he fucking did it.
All right, Detective. I guess I’m done here. See you around.
I’m getting the fuck out of here. I’m not dealing with this shit today. Not fucking today. Christmas fucking eve. And I thought I couldn’t already feel more alone. This is just fucking great.
Chapter 13. The Anniversary
December 26, 2018
Detective Larry Pete
Drunk again. Different year, same fucking day over and over again. When will it end? Really, when will it? Because if my memory serves me correctly, I’ve spent this day drunk all day every year since she left me. I have shown no forward progress. None. She still holds mental real estate. I loved her. True love. That’s the stuff that just doesn’t go away. No matter what happens. I gave her everything I had and it was never enough. I did everything and it just wasn’t enough. I just don’t know how. I don’t know why. December 26. Known to the English as Boxing Day. Known to the Irish as St. Stephen’s Day. And known to this sack of shit as the worst day of his life. It makes me feel even worse knowing that this day brings joy to so many people across the world. Everyone but me. And no matter how much I drink, I still can’t forget that day. I don’t think I’ll ever forget that day as long as I live.
December 26 was the day Katherine officially fell out of love with me. I know this is the exact day because she told me on this day. This wasn’t the day we got divorced. No, that came later. This was the day she proved to me that she didn’t love me. The day my own daughter witnessed with her own eyes the lack of love in her parents’ marriage. The most devastating day of my life. This was the day she brought Jared home. That’s right. She brought him home. I had no idea this man existed until she walked him into our home. The home in which we raised our daughter. The home in which we both put up our life savings. The home where we cemented our love. That home. The one that doesn’t exist anymore. It was then that she told me of their affair. How excruciatingly long it was going on for. How my own daughter had met him. How I had been kept in the dark to spare my feelings, and so that it wouldn’t affect my work on the Duke case. Yeah. She said that. That Duke was the reason she didn’t tell me. My work. The money that I made to keep this family afloat. Jared was a big dude. Six foot, two-three inches roughly. Two-hundred pounds. Not a guy I could beat up. I felt hopeless. I just left the house, got into my car, and cried. I cried like a little bitch. I felt like shooting someone. Walters was the obvious first choice. But instead I went to the office and looked at Duke files to keep myself preoccupied. So much of the hate I was holding all transferred to Duke. The case never truly felt personal until that moment. I can’t do this anymore. I hate this god damn day.
Chapter 14. Another Note?
February 14, 2019
Detective Larry Pete
Monthly meetings always fall between the twelfth and the sixteenth of every month. And just my luck, this one falls on Valentine’s Day. It’s no secret that I have PTSD from love, so it’s natural for me to hate this day. To make matters even worse. I’m sitting next to Richard ~Dick~ Walters.
Peterson usually run
s the show at these meetings. He’s always late. For a guy that can move so quick on his feet, he sure does take his time. However, he says today’s meeting is an important one, so I’m sure he’ll be a little quicker than usual. The less time I spend here, the better.
Hey Pete. Happy Valentine’s Day. Dick whispers in my ear.
Would I lose my job if I slapped Walters? Not too hard or anything, but just enough to make him fear me a little bit.
I’d say the same to you but you’ve probably never enjoyed a Valentine’s Day in your life.
Was that a good comeback? Fuck, I don’t know. Whatever Pete, just keep your strong face on. You’re winning this.
Actually I have a feeling I’m going to enjoy tonight. I’m taking Detective Lagnado out for Dinner. He says to me with a grin on his rosy-fucking face.
Detective Lagnado?
How the fuck did he pull that off? She is by far, the best-looking Detective in this entire building. Every single Detective, Intern, Mail-boy, Cafeteria worker, and boss has a thing for her. Hazel eyes, soft brown hair. There’s no way he is really taking her out.
Don’t fuck with me.
He laughs then moves closer to me. Christ Dick, are you sure you don’t want to take me out tonight?
I’m dead serious. In fact, she asked me.
I don’t buy that for a second, DICK. Let’s be honest. She’s the Patriots, you’re the Bears. No comparison.
Good one, Larry. Nice analogy.
Don’t forget, Pete. The Bears once dominated. Maybe they’ll dominate again. Stay tuned.
Peterson enters the room holding a single sheet of paper. It appears to be a note. Not a very long one at that. He slams it down on the table in front of the room to get our attention. It works. He has a presence to him. He can truly strike fear into us when he wants.
Stayaway Hideaway Page 4
