The Boy Who Stole From the Dead

by Orest Stelmach

  An ambivalent guard escorted her to a small room with two chairs and a table. There were no windows in the room. The air smelled of mold. A gaunt man in a white coat came in and introduced himself as Dr. Champion.

  “We had to remove him from the general population,” Champion said. “For his own protection.”

  Nadia felt faint. “Why? What happened?”

  “Does Aagayuk have problems with anxiety?”

  “No.”

  “Is he prone to panic attacks?”

  “No. Why? Did he have one?”

  “Actually, he had several. When the lights went out. He had great difficulty making it through his first night. And he didn’t make it through his second night. I’ve prescribed an antidepressant—”

  “You gave him an antidepressant? Without my approval?”

  “Aagayuk is in the state’s custody now.”

  “But common courtesy—”

  “It’s my responsibility to keep him functioning properly.”

  “It would have been common courtesy to call his guardian, don’t you think?”

  “I treat hundreds of prisoners, ma’am. My job is to keep them healthy. Keep them alive. Phone calls to loved ones are just not realistic.”

  The notion of Bobby taking an antidepressant wasn’t as disturbing as a doctor at Rikers Island writing the prescription. “What was the catalyst for all this? Did something happen?”

  “He had an altercation with some of the other inmates.”

  “What kind of altercation?”

  “The unfortunate kind. He cost his neighbors a bit of sleep. They made him understand how unhappy they were about that. He’s going to have to go back in one week. Seven days. That’s the prescribed time for the antidepressants to get into his system. That’s the longest I can keep him. His other wounds will certainly be healed by then.”

  “What wounds?”

  “If the medication works, it will cut off the extremes of his behavior. He won’t get too happy. He won’t get too sad. It’ll neutralize the panic attacks and he’ll be able to sleep at night.”

  “What wounds?”

  “More importantly, the other inmates will be able to sleep. Maybe they’ll leave him alone. Though I’m told they’ve seen his ears. Half-ears, I should say. With jagged ridges like some sort of genetic mutation. I’ve never seen that type of handicap before.”

  Bobby was born with abnormal ears because his mother had suffered from radiation syndrome. “I’d like to see Bobby, please,” Nadia said.

  “Who?”

  “Bobby. Aagayuk. His Anglo name is Bobby. I’d like to see my boy. Now, please.”

  Champion left.

  A guard escorted Bobby into the room. Bobby limped. Bruises shone around both eyes. A large bandage covered his forehead.

  “Oh my God.” Nadia stood up to hug him.

  Bobby raised his hand for her to keep her distance.

  Nadia stopped. The sight of his palm in her face wrenched her heart. But she didn’t want him to read her emotions so she erased the disappointment from her eyes. This was no time for sentiment.

  Bobby grimaced as he sat down. He wore a gray jumpsuit and orange flip-flops. The guard stood against the wall. Bobby and Nadia spoke in Ukrainian.

  “How are you?” Nadia said.

  “I told Johnny to tell you not to come. Why didn’t you listen to him?”

  “Why would you say something like that? You know I’m going to come no matter what. I asked you a question. How are you?”

  “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

  “What do you mean it doesn’t matter? Why are you acting this way? Why won’t you tell me what really happened that night? It can’t possibly be like you said. A man doesn’t walk up to you and try to stab you for no reason. Not even in New York. Especially not in Manhattan.”

  Bobby let a few seconds pass. “Do you remember what you said to me when I opened the locket?”

  After evading mobsters and government agents halfway around the world, Bobby had opened the locket to reveal its treasure. “No more lies,” Nadia said.

  “That’s right. No more lies. And I haven’t lied to you since.”

  “You’re saying you killed that man in self defense. He came at you with a knife first.”

  “Yes.”

  “And you never saw him before that night.”

  Bobby didn’t answer.

  “He had no reason to want to kill you.”

  He remained mute.

  “You didn’t expect to see him that night. This wasn’t a planned confrontation. Was it?”

  Bobby looked at her with the same dead eyes he’d shown her in the courtroom.

  “Why were you wearing only one shoe when you turned yourself in? It was a basketball shoe. It couldn’t have slipped off or been pulled off. You had to unlace it for it to come off. Where is your left shoe? Why did you take it off?”

  Bobby turned his head away.

  “Are you going to answer me? You know, I’m sitting here worried to death either someone’s going to kill you here or they’re going to convict you of murder, but if you keep acting so rudely to me I’m going to come across this table and smack you.” She had no intention of actually hitting him. Since straight talk wasn’t working, she was hoping to provoke a reaction.

  Bobby sat still looking as though he was calculating something. Then he leaned across the table. “You want the truth?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Okay, here’s the truth. I don’t like you. I never really liked you from the minute I first met you. You think you’re smarter than everyone else. And you don’t know how to have fun. That’s why no one wants to be around you. The only friend you have is Johnny and that’s only because you pay him. You’ll never get married. You’re going to die alone.”

  His words stung. They brought tears to her eyes. She’d risked her life to bring him to America. She spent every penny she had to feed him, shelter him, and send him to prep school. And yet, she didn’t believe a word he was saying. He knew her vulnerabilities. He knew where to hit. For some reason he was trying to push her away.

  Nadia leveled her chin at him.

  “There are two bags outside for you. There’s a coat, sneakers, and four sets of underwear, socks, shirts, and pants in one bag. There’s six pencils, two notebooks, all the Harry Potter books, and four hockey magazines in the other. Everything is permitted. I checked. One of the hockey magazines is old. There’s a hole in one of the pages inside. That sound familiar?”

  Bobby blinked. It was the magazine he’d brought from Ukraine. It had special sentimental value.

  “Good,” Nadia said. “Nice to see you’re still human.”

  “No, I’m not still human. I’m a machine. I’ve left your world. You mean nothing to me. I don’t ever want to see you again.”

  Bobby stood up. The guard opened the door. They disappeared down a corridor. A second guard came by and escorted Nadia out of the infirmary.

  Nadia walked outside, waited for the bus, and boarded it. When it crossed the bridge off Rikers Island, she looked back at the jail.

  Bobby was emphatic he hadn’t lied to her. When he’d made that point, she’d looked into his eyes and seen truth. Nadia believed him. The kid had a sense of honor. He said he’d never lie to her, and he was determined to live up to that promise. When Nadia asked him if he’d ever seen Valentine before Tuesday night, Bobby didn’t answer. When she asked if Valentine had a reason to want him dead, he remained quiet. Same as when she asked if he’d expected to see Valentine that night. Bobby refused to answer those three questions because he didn’t want to lie. By Nadia’s logic, her conclusion was unimaginable yet necessarily true.

  Bobby and Valentine had known each other. Valentine had a motive for killing Bobby.

  And they’d met Tuesda
y night knowing one of them might kill the other.

  CHAPTER 7

  FOR SEVEN YEARS Nadia walked home from work along Madison Avenue and dreamed of owning a townhouse on one of the side streets of the Upper East Side. They defined charm, privacy, and success. The fantasy fueled her fourteen-hour days at the Monroe private equity firm. After she was fired last year, however, she avoided Madison altogether. But when she started her own business and landed her first two clients, she returned. Now, on the verge of stepping inside one of them for the first time, owning them once again seemed like nothing more than a fantasy.

  The townhouse belonged to Trent and Meredith Mace. Nadia cheered with them during Fordham Prep hockey games. They’d gone out to dinner together after a couple of games.

  Meredith opened the door, invited her in, and gave her a huge hug. She guided Nadia to a sitting room beyond the foyer. A glossy Old Masters portrait of a mother and her two sons hung on the wall. The boys sat at their mother’s feet.

  “How is he?” Meredith said.

  “I just got back from Rikers Island. He’s in the infirmary.”

  “Did he get sick?”

  “He had some issues with anxiety. And then he was beaten.”

  Meredith let out a cry, covered her mouth. “That’s awful. I’m so sorry this happened to Bobby. And you. Trent and I know it’s a misunderstanding. When we saw the address…Trent was the general contractor on loft conversions a block away from where it happened. We couldn’t believe it. It’s as though it happened in our own back yard. We’re sure it’ll get straightened out.”

  “I’m trying to straighten it out. But I need your help.”

  Meredith’s eyes widened as though Nadia had asked for a limb. “Of course.” She swallowed hard. “Anything we can do. Anything.”

  “The night of the murder, Bobby told me he was coming here.”

  “And I told you on the phone he didn’t come here.”

  “But was he supposed to come here?”

  “No. I asked Derek and he said they hadn’t planned anything.”

  “Would you mind if I spoke with Derek?”

  Meredith shifted in her seat. “Forgive me for saying this, Nadia. But if Derek already said they didn’t plan anything, how else could he possibly help?”

  “I’m hoping Derek might have some insight into Bobby’s state of mind, if not his whereabouts that night.”

  “Why would Derek know anything about his whereabouts?”

  “He’s Bobby’s friend. He might know something and be completely unaware of it.”

  “Nadia, Trent and I love Bobby to death. You know we do. And we love you, too. But we don’t want Derek distracted from his schoolwork.”

  “It’ll only take a couple of minutes. I promise.”

  Meredith grasped for words.

  “We can talk right here,” Nadia said. “You’d be in the room with us.”

  “Obviously I’d be in the room with you. I’m not sure you understand…”

  “Of course I understand. Bobby’s been arrested for murder. You want to protect your son. You want to distance him. You don’t want him involved. You don’t want him talking about it or even thinking about it if you can help it.”

  “Exactly. I’m so glad you see. It’s not personal—”

  “No, it is personal. Everything that matters in life is personal. Bobby’s in jail, Meredith. He’s already been beaten once. In a week they’ll release him from the infirmary. I’m trying to find something, anything that might help us understand that evening.”

  “I wish we could help you.”

  “Before he gets beaten again.”

  “I really do.”

  “Bobby didn’t kill anyone in cold blood,” Nadia said. “You know that. You see how he plays hockey. He doesn’t have a mean streak. He doesn’t have any violent tendencies.”

  “As opposed to who, my son?”

  “No, Merry. As opposed to the person who’s really responsible for that poor young man’s death. As opposed to the thugs who beat Bobby and might kill him next time.”

  “You have a lot of nerve showing up here and comparing my son to the criminals your boy is in jail with.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I think it’s time for you to leave.”

  “I did no such thing.”

  “Please leave, Nadia.”

  Nadia felt her composure slipping. All she wanted to do was talk to the kid with his mother present. Was that unreasonable? Funny how you never really knew a person until you suffered through adversity with her. Nadia took a quick breath to steady herself.

  “I didn’t compare Derek to anyone,” she said. “This conversation has gotten a little—”

  “Get out.”

  “Merry. Please. I’m just trying to find out if Derek knows anything that might help.”

  The floor creaked. Meredith turned toward the door.

  “Help with what?” a man said.

  Trent Mace filled the doorway. A spoon protruded from a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Chocolate Therapy. He bounded into the sitting room and hugged Nadia with his free hand. She’d spied him watching her in the Fordham stands on more than one occasion. Nadia guessed she might have better luck with him.

  “Help with what?” he said.

  Nadia explained.

  “Honey, go ask Derek to come in for a few minutes.”

  Meredith bristled. “May I speak with you in the kitchen for a minute?”

  Trent excused himself and followed his wife out of the sitting room. Meredith’s fury echoed down the corridor, but Trent’s reply didn’t. A minute later they returned with Derek. He sank into an upholstered chair.

  “I don’t know why he said he was coming over here,” Derek said.

  “You didn’t make plans earlier in the day?” Nadia said.

  “Nope.”

  “Is it possible he was going to pop over unannounced?”

  “Huh?”

  “Did Bobby ever come over unannounced, or did he always make plans ahead of time?”

  “I don’t know. I guess there was always a plan. I mean, Bobby’s a planner, right?”

  “Is he?” Nadia said. She’d never thought of him that way.

  “Sure. He draws up plays for the coaches sometimes. And he knows what he’s doing every day for the next week.”

  “Did he mention what he was doing the night he got arrested?”

  “Nope.”

  “Nothing at all?”

  “Nope.”

  “Did he seem different?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Did he seem upset or depressed or concerned about anything?”

  Derek shrugged. “I don’t know. You can never tell about Bobby. That’s his thing. He’s poker face twenty-four-seven. If anyone should know what he’s been thinking, it should be you, shouldn’t it? I mean, you’re his guardian, right?”

  “Hey,” Trent said. “Watch your mouth.” He turned to Nadia. “I’m sorry about my son’s manners.” He turned to Derek. “What about the girlfriend?”

  “Girlfriend?” Nadia glanced at Trent, Meredith, and Derek. “What girlfriend?”

  Meredith looked surprised. She glanced alternately at her husband and son.

  Trent commanded his son with a nod of the head. “Speak.”

  “There’s a girl in Brighton Beach,” Derek said.

  “What?” Nadia said. “Since when?”

  “I don’t know. About a month ago.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “I think it’s Iryna.”

  “You think?” Trent said.

  Derek stared at his father from the roofs of his eyes. “Okay, her name’s Iryna. She’s Russian.”

  Nadia blushed. She could feel Meredith’s eyes all over her, j
udging her for not being intimately familiar with every aspect of Bobby’s life. And Nadia agreed. She thought she’d known about everything Bobby did, but clearly she’d been kidding herself.

  “How did he meet her?” Nadia said.

  “I don’t know,” Derek said.

  Trent pointed a finger at Derek. “Son, you think you’re helping Bobby by keeping a secret? You’re not. It’s time for you to man up. Speak.”

  Derek took a deep breath. “She’s a model.”

  “What type of model?” Nadia said.

  “Lingerie and swimsuits and stuff.”

  “How old is this girl?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe sixteen or seventeen.”

  “How did Bobby meet her?”

  “She friended him on Facebook.”

  “Facebook? Bobby’s on Facebook? That’s impossible.” Bobby had agreed to stay away from social media to minimize the risk of someone recognizing him and revealing his true identity. “Since when?”

  “I don’t know. A couple of months. He’s got fans.”

  “He does?”

  Derek nodded. “On account of the Gáborik race. The YouTube videos.”

  “And how did this girl find him?”

  “A friend of hers showed her his home page. They had a lot in common.”

  “What friend?”

  “Another girl. A friend of mine.”

  Meredith frowned. “What friend of yours?”

  “Someone I met. She goes to St. Mary’s in Flushing. We play them twice a year. She goes to the games.”

  “And you’ve been seeing this other girl?” Shock registered on Meredith’s face.

  “She friended me after one of the games this past season. We’ve gone on a couple of double dates. She’s a model, too. It’s nothing serious.”

  “Who is this girl? Who are her parents?” Meredith turned to her husband. “Did you know about this?”

  Trent shrugged.

  “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” Meredith said.

  “Did Bobby go to see Iryna the night he was arrested?” Nadia said.

  “Couldn’t tell you,” Derek said.