“No, Father.”
“’No, father. No, father.’ Fucking A. You can’t handle any of that. Where the hell would little Eddie get money if he didn’t work for me, right?”
“Yes, Father.”
“Oh, wait a minute! You could steal it, like that pissy-ass time when you thought you were going to run away, right?”
“Yes, Father … I mean, no, Father.”
“You don’t know what you mean, do you, Eddie?”
“No.”
“Where are the girls in your life, Eddie?”
“What?”
“Pussy, damn it! You date girls, don’t you, Eddie? I mean, that’s what you’ve been telling me these past couple of years. Maybe you’re a flaming faggot?”
“I date girls, Father.”
“San Francisco State’s co-ed, right?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Why? I’ll tell you, why: we both can get what we want.”
“I don’t–”
“I’ll explain it in terms even a genius like you can understand – you can go to school, but only if you work here the rest of the time. Got that part?”
“Yes, sir. Thank you.”
“Suppose a lot of those giggling high school girlies have an eye for you, huh?”
“Maybe some of them.”
“College girlies are so much better, so much riper. More available.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You have a pretty dull brain for a wise-ass scholarship student. Well, let’s smarten you up right here and now. You’ll bring one of those college girls home now and then, for me, like a nice, dutiful son, right?”
“Bring one home?”
“Think I don’t know about all those times you hid in the shop and watched me with those sluts. Sluts like your mother? You know what I want.”
“No! I … I couldn’t do that, Father.”
“No? No? What makes you think you can say ‘no’ to me? You do as I say, or you won’t go to that stupid college.”
“But--”
“You heard me – college for you, beautiful redheads for me.”
“I can’t do that, Father. I can’t.”
“You’ll damn well do it, Eddie.”
“No.”
“Do it or I’ll never tell you where you can find that whoring mother of yours.”
* * *
Eddie pulled over to the curb again, this time a block short of the garage entrance to his apartment building. He tapped out a roofie from a plastic vial, then pulled a bottle of water from the cup holder in the armrest.
Megan Ann stared at him, but her eyes remained empty.
He tried to stay calm as he slid an arm around her waist.
“Hey, little girl,” he whispered in her ear, “time to take your medicine.”
“Anything you say, baby,” she mumbled.
Megan Ann’s eye lids fluttered; she reached over to Eddie and ran her fingers through his hair, pulled him to her and kissed him on the mouth.
Eddie was caught off guard as her tongue slid over his lips and her hand searched between his legs. He pulled away and gently squeezed her cheeks together until she opened her mouth. He carefully placed the pill on her tongue. She took a long drink of water before settling back in her seat.
He barely nudged the accelerator as he passed the front of his apartment building, stared through the glass façade of the complex, and took in the lobby with its shiny black marble floor and stark contemporary furniture.
The doorman usually parked Eddie’s car for him in the building’s underground garage.
Not tonight.
Eddie had to get Megan Ann into his apartment without anyone seeing her. Especially the doorman, a nosy, non-stop gossip. Because of him, Eddie knew all the dirt about the other occupants in the building. More than he ever wanted to know about anyone.
Where is he, where’s the doorman?
Then he saw him, slumped in a leather desk chair behind a glass table, in napping mode: head dipped, chin resting on his green uniform jacket.
The underground parking was only around the corner, on the side street. Eddie drove slowly, made the turn, and triggered the electronic button in the edge of the rearview mirror for the garage door. When the entrance yawned open, he eased the car down the ramp into the deserted, dimly lit area, pulled into his assigned slot, and doused the Jaguar’s headlights.
Megan Ann moaned softly, clutched the blanket tightly around her, and snuggled deeper into the plush seat.
The engine shut down with a twist of the key and Eddie allowed himself the momentary luxury of silence. He eyed the perimeter of the area with its circle of evenly spaced lights. There weren’t really any shadowed places, only deeper shades of gray around each parked vehicle. Most of the occupants of the apartment complex were tucked in for the night. He counted only two vacant spaces.
Before opening the door to get out, he switched off the interior lights. He edged around the car, opened the passenger door, but was startled by a pair of incoming headlights. He crouched low until he was half sitting on the door sill next to the nurse. He hoped the driver of the approaching car wouldn’t be able to see him.
As his shoulder touched Megan Ann, she suddenly threw her arms around him, tilted her chin, and drew his mouth onto hers. She moaned and tore the blanket away, shoved his hand between her legs.
Warm. So warm and moist.
Eddie’s groin ached with a flash of heat as her fleshy mouth surrounded his tongue. She yanked at his zipper. Her hot hand grabbed him.
“Do it to me … please do it,” she whispered, her hips grinding.
The clunk of the closing elevator door jarred him. The arriving tenant was gone from the garage. They were alone again.
“We have to go,” he said.
Eddie pulled up his zipper, scooped her into his arms, and arranged the blanket to cover her nakedness. In the elevator, he used his key to activate the penthouse button, then held his breath and worried that someone would be in the lobby waiting for the elevator as it came up from the garage.
Megan Ann laid her head on his shoulder, mumbled something he couldn’t understand. The elevator moved smoothly past the lobby level.
He watched, almost frozen by fear when they passed each floor as they climbed their way up to the penthouse; he trembled each time the overhead panel signaled the next floor.
When the door finally slid open, he could see his answering machine blinking a furious red inside the penthouse. He carried Megan Ann across the foyer, into the living room, and lowered her onto the sofa.
Still breathing hard and soaked with sweat from both exertion and tension, he listened to the message:
“Eddie!”
Father! He stared at the answering machine, felt himself cower at the illusion he was right there in the room screaming at him.
Father’s angry. No! This is worse. He’s mad. Crazy mad.
Eddie tried to ignore the malicious sound of the voice that kept repeating: “Eddie! Eddie!” But he knew what always happened when he didn’t listen to Father.
The voice tore at him, twisted inside, like someone had forced a fist down his throat and was blocking every pathway he needed in order to breathe. He sucked in a breath and a loud wheeze escaped from his lips and resounded across the room. Eddie yanked out his inhaler. Puffed hard at the plastic.
He stood in the living room, his legs shaking. He watched Megan Ann, who was splayed on the sofa, twisting first one way, then another. Her eyes flickered open, then closed. Opened, closed.
“What am I going to do with you?” he mumbled. “Tie you up? Stuff you in a closet? Chain you to the bed?”
He raced through the rooms, into the kitchen, frantically searching for something, anything that could be turned into a plan.
What am I going to do with her?
Then he saw the large laminated block of wood filled with an assortment of expensive knives, a rare gift from Father. As he walked to the counter, his eyes were on the glint o
f one particular stainless steel handle.
“BRING HER BACK, EDDIE!
“EDDDIEE.”
That voice, Father’s unyielding voice, echoed throughout the apartment, making the hair on his neck stand, giving him the chills. He gagged as he grabbed for a 10-inch chef’s knife -- the longest and widest of the set. He raised an arm and chopped as hard as he could into a cutting board.
Not a butcher’s boning knife. A killing knife that could rip her heart out.
* * *
Megan Ann’s mind floated between the airiness of dreams and the hammer of reality. It was her special place, hidden among the soft shadows of a colorless fog-filled world of nothingness.
Here, there were no decisions to be made.
Here, she could be a numb, mindless creature. A jellied amoeba reaching out to everything and nothing.
Here was Neverland, where no one cared or pointed a finger at her for drinking, drugging, and screwing her way through whatever life tossed at her.
But she was cold. Very cold. And her head hurt. She tried to open her eyes, to remember where she’d been, but couldn’t do it. Her lids were too gritty, too heavy.
* * *
The blanket had fallen off Megan Ann. She lay shivering on the sofa. Eddie tiptoed closer. Goose bumps had erupted, spread across her skin.
He stepped in closer and covered her with the blanket, then ran his fingers through her hair. She looked like a beautiful child.
But you aren’t a child, are you?
He bent over, slipped his arms under her, and carried her toward the guest bedroom.
“Eddie, is that you?”
He remained silent.
“What happened?” Her face flushed a bright red. “Did I drink too much? Pass out?”
He continued on, ignoring her questions, and laid her down on the bed. The knife slipped from his hand, bounced off the mattress onto the floor with a dull thud.
He carefully raised her head and placed a pillow beneath it.
The telephone rang again. He tried to ignore it. The message machine picked up: BRING HER BACK RIGHT NOW, EDDIE, IF YOU KNOW WHAT’S GOOD FOR YOU. BRING HER BACK.
He ran into the living room, grabbed the answering machine, and threw it against the wall. The plastic shattered, flew in all directions.
Eddie returned to the bedroom, exhausted. He was so tired he barely had the energy to toss off his clothes and lay down next to Megan Ann. Her pale skin was mottled and her eyes dreamy as her fingers dug into the surrounding thick comforter, clutching, releasing, clutching, releasing.
“Aaron?”
She turned to look at him. “Stay with me, Aaron. Stay with me, baby.”
Her hands were light like fluttering feathers moving across his face, traveling the length of him. Her body rolled, rubbed against him. She straddled his hips, her breasts slid up and down, undulating against the hairs on his chest. He moved inside her and was surrounded by a soft cloud of pleasure. He pumped harder, harder. But a blackness was growing inside of him, turning his bowels to hot coals. It was roiling, building, exploding.
Even though it was smashed, he could still hear the message machine spewing out Father’s summons:
“EDDIE! EDDIE! EDDIE!”
The evil voice reverberated in his head, bringing a tearing pain to his heart. He reached across the bed. Reached, reached down until his fingers curled around the long knife.
₪ CHAPTER 30
“I hope you have something positive to tell me, Ms. Mazzio,” Alan Vasquez said even before the two of them could sit down. “The police sure haven’t been of much help.”
Gina had been waiting outside his office when he arrived at 8:00 a.m. She’d thought it was better to see him in person -- you never knew who might be listening in on a telephone conversation. There were already way too many rumors floating around the hospital, some of which were probably her fault.
“Unfortunately, I haven’t found out much of anything.” Gina said. “The last person to see Arina was Katie Rifka. That was Friday after work, a little after 7:00 p.m. They were supposed to ride the bus home together, but Arina told Katie she’d changed her mind and was going to go shopping.”
A look of keen disappointment spread across the administrator’s face. “What about other nurses in the unit?”
“There aren’t many others. Every department seems to be short-handed.”
“As I know all too well,” he said.
“Apparently Arina didn’t hang out with the other nurses after work. A movie now and then, but that’s all. The word is that she spent most of her time with her boyfriend.”
“Yes, Jorge.” He looked at her a moment before continuing. “And what do they say about, Jorge?”
“From all indications, he’s as worried about her as you are. He’s been calling, coming around the unit.”
“I see,” he said in a manner that made Gina think Jorge wasn’t on Vasquez’s list of favorite people.
“I wish I had something better to tell you.”
“Yes, well, it’s not your fault. It’s just that my sister is beside herself with grief. And I’ve gotten no satisfaction talking to the police, although they now concede she’s a missing person … for whatever good that does.”
“Have you talked to Detective Yee?”
“Once. Now they only take messages. I’ve heard nothing back from anyone.”
“I don’t know what else I can do,” Gina said.
“I only asked on the off chance you might … find out something.” He swiveled his chair around to look out the large picture window behind his desk, something he seemed to do under stress. After a couple of moments, he raised one hand, the index finger pointing upward. “I’d appreciate it if you’d let me know immediately if you hear anything else. Anything!”
She was certain she’d heard a tremor in his voice. She wanted to tell him how difficult it was to take care of her work obligations and still get around to talk to people in other departments; wanted to tell him how difficult it was to catch people after work hours, especially since her hours were different than those of the hospital nurses; wanted to tell him how difficult it was to ask about Arina without revealing why she was asking.
Instead, she said quietly, “Yes, I’ll do that.”
* * *
“And just where do you think you’re going, madam?” Tina snipped as Gina clocked in and started for the door.
“Not that I have to explain anything to you, but I’ll be back in a few minutes … after I talk to Lexie.”
“You’re taking time out for a chat while these phones are blinking and winking nonstop?”
“You know, Tina, you keep rattling my chain and you’re going to regret it. Trust me.”
“OOOOOH! I’m shaking in my boots.” She turned to Chelsea: “The Bronx bombshell is going to get me.”
Chelsea ignored both of them.
Gina gave Tina the finger and walked out. She’d made up her mind on the way into work that she needed some time off. The disconnect with Harry, the uncomfortable situation in the Advice Center, and, most of all, the fear that the mysterious caller might be abducting and killing Ridgewood nurses were all getting to be too much for her.
It was time to ask her manager for some personal time off.
* * *
Lexie Alexandros motioned Gina into her office, nodded toward a chair, and continued talking on the telephone without interrupting her conversation.
Gina forced herself to sit quietly, eavesdropping on a boring business call. But she was so antsy and sleep deprived, her eyes felt like two fried eggs ready to pop.
The image almost made her laugh out loud: yellow goo all over everything, maybe splattered across her manager’s mauve silk blouse.
As she sat and waited she read the custom plaque placed prominently on the desk:
Lexie Alexandros, Manager OB/GYN
She again wondered why on earth a grown, profess-sional woman chooses to be called by a little-girl diminutive of
Alexandra.
Okay, Alexandra Alexandros would sound pretty ridiculous.
Before she could ponder it further, Lexie concluded her conversation, looked pointedly at her watch, and said, “What can I do for you?”
Gina ignored the implied censure that she wasn’t back in her cubbyhole, on the phones. She’d already decided there was no way to soft soap this.
“I need some time off.”
The manager’s chin tipped up, her eyes narrowed.
“When?”
“Now.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.” Daggers flew from her eyes. “Are we talking immediately?”
“I’m afraid so.”
In some perverse way Gina was enjoying her manager’s anger. Lexie was the kind of person who always had an answer for everything. Right or wrong. This time, she seemed almost speechless. She abruptly stood and walked to the office window, turning her back to Gina. The air was rife with her smoldering silence.
“Lexie–”
“You know, I don’t think even you really understand how difficult it’s become to deal with the nursing shortage. The new RN contract gave us some relief, but we’re still stuck with minimum staffing. to make everything function. And now, administration is talking about a six-month freeze on hiring.”
Alexandros spun around to face Gina. “It’s tough and it’s getting tougher. All the hospital managers have been holding their breaths, sucking in their guts while they watch the toll it’s taking, not only on patient care, but on staff morale. Bottom line, I’m at a loss as to how we’re going to make everything function.”
“Hey, maybe things aren’t ideal, but I can tell you from my perspective that moral around here is better than it’s ever been. I can also tell you that I don’t need a lecture about the nursing situation. You don’t get to dump that on my shoulders just because I need some time off.”
“Oh, yes, I do!”
“I don’t see it that way. I need to straighten out some personal things. I need the time.”
“Well, I’ll give you that. At least you asked first.”
“What does that mean?”
Gina was feeling guilty. She knew what a hassle this was going to be for the department. Shelly was gone but that didn’t stop the calls from coming in, and the advice center had been understaffed even before that.
Sin & Bone: A Medical Thriller (The Gina Mazzio Series Book 2) Page 17
