TPG

by The Perfect Game (mobi)

  Ahmed rubbed his chin. “Makes sense.”

  “It makes sense?” Kyle asked incredulously.

  “Yes,” Ahmed said. “It shows the natural progression for the practice, and for sports, where a slight edge means tens of millions of dollars. Especially for a sport like baseball where concentration and focus mean so much. And it’s not that much different than why young people like Allison seek to immerse themselves in the practice. They don’t want to pop amphetamines anymore to get that edge at school and then have to take sleeping pills at night so they can fall asleep, but yet they still want that edge. They still want those grades, and to get them they need the focus. So they turn to something holistic. Perhaps baseball players are no different.”

  “Exactly,” Liam said, wagging his chubby finger for emphasis. “Professional sports ban amphetamines now. And with the statistics showing the number of players diagnosed with ADHD is more than twice the national average, doctors are being pressured to prescribe the drugs only to those with actual need.”

  “I get that,” Kyle said, focusing on Ahmed. “But do you actually think someone’s killing people for that energy?”

  “Unfortunately,” Ahmed said, “people have killed for much less.”

  “And you really think this is possible? That it can be happening?”

  “I think there’s an easy way to find out,” he said. “Just have the police follow the pitcher the night before he pitches.”

  Liam smiled. The meeting had played right into his plan. But it wasn’t going to be the police following Evan Hillier the next night. It was going to be the two of them, trying to catch a killer.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  After his meeting with Liam and Ahmed, Kyle called Eddie and asked if he could borrow his car Wednesday night, the night before Hillier’s next start. When Kyle told Eddie he needed the car because he and Liam were going to stakeout Hillier’s place, Eddie insisted on coming along.

  And Kyle didn’t try to dissuade him.

  The plan called for Kyle to meet Liam at a bar a few blocks from Hillier’s place then wait for Eddie, who would park somewhere on Hillier’s block. They’d then watch the rest of the Yankees game and wait for Hillier to return to his apartment and leave at midnight, just like the doorman said.

  Although staying out after midnight wouldn’t be the best timing for Kyle, as he’d been hoping for a good night’s sleep since he had the Trotter mediation the next morning, he was too curious not to go. A feeling he definitely didn’t share about the mediation, though he did want the case over. He wanted to move on with his life, which was why he agreed to the mediation in the first place. It was a way to short-circuit the case and resolve it before ramping up for trial.

  His attorney said to review his deposition transcript the night before the mediation, so Kyle took the bound copy of his testimony with him on his way to meet Liam, perusing through it on the subway down to Eighty-sixth Street, then on the bus as he headed crosstown, all of the grim details once again returning to the forefront of his mind.

  A flicker of lightning lit up the gathering clouds as he exited the bus on Lexington and tucked the transcript under his arm. The booming thunder that followed made him realize the day’s muggy sky had been taken over by a bundle of dark clouds, the building humidity all but screaming for the inevitable buckets of rain that were going to emerge any minute. A few drops began to fall as he made his way into the half empty dark bar. Liam was already there, wearing an ill-fitting tracksuit and sitting on a stool at the long bar, his eyes glued to the television playing the Yankees game.

  “Can you effing believe it?” Liam asked without even looking at Kyle as he approached. “Already gave up four runs. And it’s the fifth friggin inning. Even the rain can’t help us now.”

  Kyle looked up at the screen, seeing the four to nothing score. The brooding clouds up in the Bronx hadn’t opened yet, but it was only a matter of time.

  “Hit the friggin ball!” Liam screamed as one of the Yankees hitters struck out. He took a swig of the large draft beer in front of him, shook his head and looked at Kyle. “Wanna get a table?”

  “Sure,” Kyle said.

  They sat down at a booth in the corner and a waitress brought over two menus.

  Liam rubbed the scruff of his beard. The jacket of his tracksuit was unzipped, displaying an old blue T-shirt with a very faded Star Trek print on the front. The type of shirt people now paid designer prices for and considered “vintage,” though Liam probably bought it twenty years ago and ironed the decal on himself.

  “Wanna hear something pretty weird?” Liam asked after they sat down, his glassy eyes grabbing Kyle’s attention.

  “Weirder than following the Yankees’ ace to see if he’s a murderer?” Kyle asked with a smile.

  Liam ignored the sarcasm, drew closer to Kyle and rested his beefy arms on the table, and lowered his voice to a whisper. “So I had this dream last night,” he said. “A really weird one that I can’t get out of my mind. I was back at my house. My old house. The one I grew up in. And my parents were both there. It was before my dad left.”

  Kyle didn’t say anything about knowing from Liam’s sister where their father had gone, that he died when Liam was six. He just listened.

  “So they start talking to me like I’m a little kid, right? Not a baby. Not goo-goo gaga, but a little kid,” Liam whispered even lower. “And my mom picks me up and puts me over her shoulder, then carries me into the living room and puts me down and colors with me. My dad starts tussling my hair and telling me I’ve gotta stay in the lines when I color. But the thing is, I’m me. I’m my size. A grown up.”

  Liam leaned back as the waitress came over. A few more flickers of lightning lit up the sky outside. “Another Michelob Ultra in a frosted mug, please,” he said.

  Kyle ordered a Stella and couldn’t help but peer down at Liam’s sizable girth, unsure if the man was joking by ordering a beer so light it bordered on simply water.

  After the waitress left, Liam said, “So then I start coloring outside the lines. Not on purpose, right? I just can’t help it. Like a little kid, I just can’t keep the dang crayon in the lines. And my dad says to try slowing down. Color more slowly. And I try, but I can’t do it. The stupid thing keeps going out of the lines. Like it’s got a mind of its own.”

  Kyle looked at Liam’s tired eyes behind his glasses and saw them narrow with focus.

  “I start getting frustrated,” Liam continued. “And I can feel my lips trembling, about to cry. Like a frustrated kid. And my dad says to me, with a big smile, ‘It’s okay, Liam. You’re doing your best. It’s okay.’ And then he tussles my hair again. And I feel good. I slow down the coloring, and I stay in the dang lines. Then I look up at him, and he’s got this big smile.” Liam paused, then cleared his throat and lifted his glasses to either scratch an itch or wipe away a tear, Kyle wasn’t sure.

  “Anyway,” Liam said, his voice a bit louder, more direct. “So that was the dream. My parents treating me like a kid. Like I was four years old.” He leaned back and cleared his throat again. “Makes you kinda wonder about the human mind, right? I mean, think about it. I’m the same person I was when I was two years old, four years old, six, eight, and so on. My mind is the same. Maybe it’s filled up with more stuff, but it’s the same mind. Those other memories are still in there. So, for years, people were treating me like a kid, and now they treat me like an adult. Just like what happens to everyone else. But my mind has to reconcile that, right? It’s gotta create some confusion.” He took a sip of his beer, paying no mind to the fact that the glass was already empty.

  “It definitely does,” Kyle agreed.

  “Yeah. It’s kind of like as we pass each stage of our life, we die and become someone new,” Liam said. “But it’s crazy when you think about it, about our minds being a kid’s mind and an adult mind at the same time but how certain things seem so different based on when they happen. Like when I was a child, it was okay for my parents to treat
me that way but, now that I’m an adult,” he straightened himself up a bit in his seat, “it would be so weird, you know? Like it was in the dream. Even though my parents are the ones who used to tuck me into bed, tickle me, carry me, feed me, it would be so weird if they did that now. I mean, can you imagine if my mom started tickling me now?”

  Kyle stared at him, searching for some cue as to whether Liam truly found the concept interesting or was looking to speak about it on a deeper level, looking to explore the loss of his father and how it impacted who he’d become as a man.

  “It would be creepy, right?” Liam asked.

  “Yes,” Kyle said. “It would be.” He paused. “Do you dream about your father a lot?”

  “My dad?” Liam repeated the question, then squirmed in his seat and stared at his glass. “Sometimes.”

  “And that’s natural. And it’s good. Do you—”

  “I wasn’t telling you about it for therapy,” Liam said as he looked back up. “I just thought it was interesting, especially when you think about what happened between you and Ahmed.”

  “Me and Ahmed?”

  “Yeah. Maybe the reason he couldn’t break through with you was because you’ve got an older mind.”

  “Older?” Kyle smiled.

  “Right. But I’m not just talking about age, I’m talking about wear and tear too. You’ve gone through a divorce, shut down your practice, are being sued for killing someone and I’m sure you’ve got a ton of stress with your daughter.”

  “How do you know about all of that?”

  “Internet.”

  “Glad it paints such a rosy picture of my life.”

  “The point is maybe there’s a big difference between a malleable mind that’s still innocent and uncluttered compared to an adult one. Like my innocent little kid mind would probably be much more accepting than my adult mind of an energy-transfer. So maybe that’s why Hillier’s going after youngish minds like Allie’s. Maybe it’s easier because they don’t have too much clutter yet.”

  “Perhaps,” Kyle said, wondering if Liam had just come up with the connection because he wanted to downplay the dream. “But if you do ever want to talk about your father, I’d be more than happy to listen.”

  “I don’t. Seriously. I wasn’t looking for a therapy session, especially not from my friend.”

  Once again the term friend came off his tongue so naturally, as if they really were friends rather than two people who’d just met and barely knew each other.

  “I know,” Kyle said. “But I’m just saying, if you want to talk—as friends—I’m here.”

  “Okay, doc,” Liam laughed. “I guess I now know for the future that you don’t like to B.S. about these things.”

  “My fault,” Kyle said, trying to absorb the blame. “I just know it’s a tough time for you right now with Allie.”

  Upon hearing his niece’s name, Liam’s brow tightened and the ridge of his nose crinkled. “Speaking of Allie,” he said, “I finally got a call back from the guys I gave her phone to.”

  Kyle’s eyes perked up. “The tech guys?”

  “Yup,” Liam said. “And they only came up with one number.”

  “A phone number?”

  Liam nodded. “There was only one phone number that showed up on the deleted texts.”

  “Do you know whose number it was?”

  “Of course,” he said.

  Kyle swallowed back his nerves. “Whose?”

  Liam rubbed his beard while staring into Kyle’s eyes.

  “Yours.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Before Kyle was able to react, both men’s attention were distracted by the booming interruption of a soaking wet Eddie standing at the end of the table.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” Eddie said, water dripping down his face, his T-shirt glued to his body. “You pick a goddam monsoon to do this shit in?”

  “Get caught in the rain?” Kyle asked with a smirk.

  “Yeah,” Eddie said. “Just a bit, wiseass.”

  Kyle stood and shook Eddie’s wet hand and introduced him to Liam.

  “Sorry about your niece,” Eddie said as he took a seat.

  “Nothing to be sorry about,” Liam said. “After tonight she’s going to be fine.”

  Eddie glanced at Kyle, then back to Liam. “How’s that?”

  Liam looked confused. “Didn’t Kyle tell you?”

  “He told me you think Evan Hillier’s some kind of killer.”

  “Right,” Liam said. “And he attacked Allie. So once we nab him, he’ll just reverse it.”

  “Reverse it?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And how’s he going to do that?”

  Liam adjusted his glasses. “Not sure of the mechanics,” he said, “but he’s gotta have the ability to heal since he’s got the ability to absorb. I mean, that’s the way it usually works, right?”

  Eddie stared at him blankly. “I have no idea how it works. I don’t even know what the hell you’re talking about.”

  “Energy healers,” Liam said. “They usually heal, not attack. So since Hillier has the ability to control energy in a way that no one else can, he can obviously also heal in a way no one else can.”

  “Right,” Eddie said. “Of course. So you think he’s going to snap your niece out of her coma by just blinking at her like the I Dream of Jeannie chick?”

  Liam shrugged. “Not sure if he blinks, but yeah. He’ll be able to reverse whatever he did, or heal her in a way that she’ll be okay again.”

  Eddie rolled his eyes then looked around the bar. “Where’s the waitress?” he asked. “I’m definitely gonna need a beer.”

  For the rest of their time at the bar, Eddie continued to treat Liam like he’d just escaped from a psych ward. And it wasn’t just limited to his stance on Hillier and energy transfers. They also sparred over the Yankees game as Liam criticized every move they made, while Eddie pointed out that not every player could hit a homerun every time at bat.

  What wasn’t discussed was Liam’s discovery that Kyle had deleted the texts. But Kyle continued to wonder exactly what it was that Liam knew, and why he was acting so nonchalant about it.

  Perhaps he hadn’t read them yet?

  Kyle had no idea, but as the game ended with a pop-up to short, he realized the night was just getting started. Whatever Liam had discovered, he had plenty of time to share, something Kyle was fairly certain would be happening soon enough. Whether Kyle wanted to hear it, or not.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  They settled into Eddie’s car at about ten-thirty, and within an hour Eddie had already stepped out five times to walk around the block and smoke a cigarette, even though he’d quit years ago. Kyle knew it was just an excuse to not be bottled up with Liam, and he was okay with it. He actually preferred it, not needing the added stress of continually playing peacekeeper.

  It was now ten minutes to midnight.

  Kyle looked out the window at the lobby of the luxury high-rise as he sat in the passenger seat, his eyes specifically drawn to the building’s underground garage.

  “This is ridiculous,” Eddie said as he watched the building’s doorman greet residents as they arrived. “I feel like an idiot sitting out here.”

  Kyle didn’t say anything, and neither did Liam. They just kept watching and waiting.

  “Absolutely ridiculous,” Eddie muttered again.

  And it was ridiculous. Absurd. Kyle knew it just as much as Eddie. But in ten minutes they would know for sure what Hillier was doing at midnight, if anything.

  Kyle could feel the tension build, the anxiety heighten as the clock ticked closer to twelve. He looked at Eddie, and even his best friend, who rarely displayed anything hinting at anxiety, was tense, his hands tightly gripping the wheel, eyes glued to the luxury high-rise.

  “I can’t believe I wasted a night out doing this,” Eddie said, once again feeling the need to break the silence, not comfortable just sitting still.

  Kyle knew it w
as just nervous chatter, that Eddie was just as anxious as he was.

  The car’s interior light suddenly sprung to life as Liam opened the back door.

  “Where the hell are you going?” Eddie blurted out.

  “To get some Twizzlers,” Liam said, his eyes shifting back and forth between the two of them. “Either of you want anything?”

  “Twizzlers? This isn’t a fucking movie.”

  “I’m hungry.”

  “We just had burgers and wings not even two hours ago.”

  Liam stepped out of the car. “I have a fast metabolism.”

  “Liam, it’s ten to twelve,” Kyle chimed in. “Don’t you think it’d be better if we all stayed in the car?”

  “Eddie didn’t,” Liam said, “and you didn’t say anything to him.”

  “I didn’t get out right before the guy we’ve been waiting for all night to fucking leave is actually supposed to leave.”

  “I’ll be back in two minutes,” Liam shrugged. “I’m just going to the bodega down the block.”

  “What if Hillier leaves early?” Kyle asked.

  Liam looked back as he kept walking. “He won’t. He’ll leave at twelve. That’s what the doorman said. Twelve.” He turned and kept walking.

  Eddie shook his head as he watched Liam’s frumpy body stroll up the block to the small convenience store at the corner.

  “Fast metabolism?” Eddie smirked. “The guy’s got more rolls than a bakery.”

  “Easy on the fat jokes.”

  Eddie turned to Kyle. “You do realize the guy is a freak, right? I mean, I know you told me about him, but actually seeing him now, meeting him, talking to him, the guy is totally off. He’s a fucking whacko. Look at him.” Eddie turned toward the windshield and looked at Liam as he walked to the end of the block. “He’s wearing an Adidas tracksuit like it’s the eighties and he’s on his way to a goddamn RUN-D.M.C. concert.”