A message back from Simon appeared. Fine. It doesn’t change anything to know who he was. Have to pay attention right now. In English class. Talk at lunch?
Sure, Jordan replied.
Lorelei slammed the computer shut. God damn it, she’d made such a mess of everything.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
When Simon came home from school, she tried to talk to him about what had happened that morning. Simon stood in the doorway of his bedroom, shifting back and forth on his feet. “I looked him up on the Internet. He killed like thirty people.”
“I know,” she said.
“So, why did you get pregnant with me with him?”
“I didn’t mean to,” she said. And then she cringed. “Which doesn’t mean that I didn’t want you, because you’re wonderful and amazing, and I love you. It’s only that I wasn’t planning on having a child at that point in my life.”
Simon nodded, looking down at his shoes as he digested this. He continued to shift his weight back and forth, a sort of sideways rocking. He kept his head down as he said the next thing. “Was it, like…?” He let out a noisy breath. “Did he… force you? Like do it with him?”
“No,” she said. “No, it wasn’t like that.” She found that she couldn’t look at her son suddenly either.
“Then… I don’t understand,” he said. “I mean, I’m glad, because I don’t want to come from that, but why?”
She took a breath, squared her shoulders, and raised her gaze.
He was looking at her now, and he wasn’t rocking anymore.
“I didn’t know he was a killer at the time. He tricked me into thinking he was a nice guy.”
“Oh,” said Simon. He licked his lips and seemed to think this over. “I didn’t think of that. But that makes sense.” He nodded. “Okay, then.”
“Okay?” she said.
He nodded. “Yeah, okay. I understand why you didn’t tell me when I was younger. But I’m glad I know now.”
Her eyes were filling with tears. “Simon, I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to be,” he said. “It’s okay.” He reached out and patted her on the shoulder. It was a tentative movement, but it meant so much to her, because he wasn’t one to show much in the way of affection, especially not with touch.
She beamed at him. “Thank you, sweetie.”
“No problem,” he said. He moved his arm back and stepped backwards, further into his room. “Uh, I got homework now.”
“Okay,” she said, sniffling. She retreated.
He shut the door.
She tried to steady her breathing, but she was still crying a little bit.
Had that been too easy? Shouldn’t Simon have been more upset about the whole thing? He was a straightforward sort of person, though, and she guessed that he’d only had a few questions and now he had all the answers. So, maybe it was all okay.
She wiped at her eyes, looking at the door. She thought about knocking and trying to bring the subject back up. What would she say? She shook her head, backing away.
* * *
“You haven’t called me. You haven’t come by. What’s going on with you, Lorelei?” said Mia, who was sitting at the bar, toying with the stirrer in her mixed drink.
Lorelei was mixing herself something. She and Mia were the only people in the bar. It was a weeknight, and business was slow. “Oh, God, Mia, so much is going on right now.”
“Like what?” said Mia. “I’m your best friend. You can tell me anything, you know?”
Lorelei had never wanted to tell Mia the truth about Simon’s father, because it was all so embarrassing and shameful. But she wondered if she’d be able to keep it to herself now. She’d told Simon, and Simon had told Jordan, and maybe the girl would let it slip to her mother, so… Lorelei shook up her drink in the metal shaker and then poured it over ice. “There are things I haven’t told you.”
“Like what?”
“Well, about Simon’s father, for one thing. And about pictures that Simon took of the girls that have been killed.”
Mia sat up straight in her barstool, looking wounded. “Why are you keeping things from me?”
“I just… I didn’t want anyone to know. I was ashamed and worried and confused. But I’ll tell you everything now.”
“You better,” said Mia. “I don’t keep secrets from you, you know.”
Lorelei began a long, long retelling of everything she’d kept to herself, starting with how she’d met Crispin Barker and ending with finding the pictures on Simon’s camera. During her explanation, Mia interrupted anytime she didn’t understand one detail or another. By the time Lorelei was done, she felt exhausted, as if she’d dredged up her insides and put them out on display. But finally, she stopped. “And that’s everything.”
“That’s quite a lot,” said Mia, who looked stunned. “I had no idea you’d been through so much.”
Lorelei took Mia’s glass. It was empty. “Refill?”
“Sure, thanks,” said Mia. She leaned her elbows on the bar. “Listen, the pictures don’t mean anything. And neither does the fact that he’s the son of a serial killer. Those sorts of things aren’t genetic. When was the last time you heard about a father-son serial killing dynasty?”
“I don’t know,” said Lorelei. “How about all those sons who take over for their father’s drug empire or succeed as the next mafia boss?”
“Not the same thing,” said Mia. “That’s a learned behavior. They grow up in a culture, it’s ingrained into them.”
“You’re right,” said Lorelei. “I know you’re right. But I just have to know more. And Cris is the only person who can give me the answers.”
“Couldn’t you find most of it out online?”
“Not really.”
“You could hunt down his brothers and sisters, then.”
“He was an only child.”
Mia sighed. “Fine, then. I guess it makes sense to see him. Sort of. But I don’t know how you have the courage to do it.”
“I don’t either,” said Lorelei. “But I have to do this. It’s not only for me, it’s for Simon.”
“Of course,” said Mia. “I’m a mother too. I would do anything for Jordan. I’d die for her. I’d kill for her.”
“Exactly,” said Lorelei.
“You should take tomorrow night off.”
“No, I’ll be fine,” said Lorelei. “I’ll be back before my shift even starts.”
“But you won’t be in any shape to tend bar. Let me call someone to fill in for you. You’ll need the time off. Trust me.”
“All right,” Lorelei said. “I guess so.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Lorelei was sitting in a small room. It was made of concrete block, and the walls had been painted a mint green color. There were no windows. The room only contained a table with two chairs, each on opposite sides. She was in one of the chairs. She’d been there for about ten minutes, waiting for them to bring Cris in.
She’d changed her clothes ten times that morning, unsure of what to wear. She wanted to look professional, because the story that Isaac had told the prison was that she was an expert consultant who needed to talk to Crispin Barker about a related case. However, she didn’t want to look as if she’d dressed up for Cris, and she didn’t have many professional outfits these days.
In the end, she settled on a pair of black slacks and a flowing striped blouse. It made her look a little frumpy, but she didn’t care. She liked having a bit of extra fabric to cover up her body. It made her feel safer against his gaze somehow.
Now, sitting in the room, her palms were sweating and her mouth was dry. She had a glass of water, but she didn’t want to drink it too fast, so she kept taking tiny sips as she waited for him to arrive.
She took her phone out of her pocket to check the time. Not even a minute had passed since the last time she’d checked.
Geez.
Then the door opened.
They brought him in. His hands and his feet wer
e shackled. He was wearing an orange jumpsuit. And she wouldn’t have recognized him if she’d seen him on the street, because he was bald. He seemed to have shaved his head, probably to combat his receding hair line, which had receded to the point that it was only a ring of stubble that began above his ears. The top of his head was shiny bald, like Mr. Clean.
But then he fixed her gaze with his own, and she knew him. Other than the lack of hair, he was the same. He didn’t seem to have aged at all. His skin was unlined, and his eyes were still piercing, and he still had that dimple when he smiled.
Because he was smiling. When he saw her, his face lit up. “Lorelei,” he said softly.
She felt herself tremble at the sound of his voice. But it wasn’t a tremble of desire, she was relieved to realize. She didn’t want him.
He was still attractive, and he still spoke with his beguiling voice, but he didn’t have power over her anymore.
She was free. She let out a slow, even breath. She regarded him coolly, feeling her control return, and all her nervousness begin to fade.
He sat down opposite her. The men that had brought him in bolted his shackles to the floor. And then they left the room, leaving the two of them alone.
Cris was shaking his head, still grinning. “How’d you manage this? You and me in a room with no windows and no cameras?” His voice dropped suggestively.
She pressed her lips together. “That’s not why I’m here.”
He chuckled. “Maybe you don’t think it’s why you’re here, but I beg to differ. Admit it, you missed me.”
“I didn’t,” she said.
“Well, I’ll admit it. I missed you. I think about you all the time, even after all these years.”
She rolled her eyes. “Spare me. I don’t need your fake charm, Cris. I’m only here to ask you a few questions.”
“About what? Are you still trying to perfect your profile?”
“Something like that.”
“I thought you quit the FBI. You never testified at my trial. It was some other idiot in a suit, referring to your notes.” He set his shackled hands on the table. “You were good at what you did, by the way. I never could understand why you quit. I hope it wasn’t because of me.”
“I want to talk about your family.”
“I always wanted the best for you, you know. I never meant to mess up your life. Honestly, it was not my plan to get so, er, involved with you. But you used to wear those button-up shirts under your suit jackets, and you’d just have the top button undone, and I’d stare at you over coffee and think about what it would be like to undo all your buttons.” He let out a sigh. “You distracted me so much, you probably got me caught. But sometimes, at night, when I’m in my cell, thinking about you and stroking myself, I think it was probably worth it.”
She felt his words go through her like a jolt, and she was revolted. She glared at him. “You don’t think about me. Drop it, Barker. Your seductive act isn’t going to work on me anymore. I’m only here for information. What was your relationship like with your father?”
He chuckled again. “You go through menopause since the last time I saw you or something? When I knew you, Lorelei, you were hot. You were on fire.”
“Things change,” she said. “What about your mother? Were you close with your mother? I know that both of your parents passed away before you were arrested for murder, so they never knew who you really were. Would they have been surprised to learn what you did?”
He furrowed his brow at her. “What’s all this about my parents? What do you care about that?”
“Just answer the question.”
“Tell me why you want to know, and I will.”
She licked her lips, considering and discarding several lies. “I’m writing a book.”
“About me?”
“About sleeping with a monster,” she said. “I’m just trying to fill in some details about your family life.”
“A monster?” He shook his head at her. “That’s harsh.”
“Is it?” she said. “When you’re one of the most prolific serial killers in the country?”
“Fifth most victims in the U.S.,” he said. “Twelfth worldwide.”
She felt ill. He was proud of it. But of course he was proud. She knew this. She knew that killers gamified killing and thought of each victim as a tally mark. Her training kicked in. She shouldn’t show revulsion. That would make him angry. So, she just shrugged.
“Was I a monster to you, Lorelei?” he said. “Did I ever hurt you?”
“You lied to me,” she said. “It was painful learning the truth.”
He rolled his eyes. “That’s not what I meant. You were safe with me. I treated you well. I was good to you.”
She folded her hands in her lap. “And perhaps that’s what will make the book so interesting.”
He lifted his chin. “Can you write a book about me without my consent?”
“Sure,” she said. “It’s perfectly legal. You wouldn’t object, anyway, would you? It would bring you back into the public eye a bit, wouldn’t it? You’d like that.”
He chuckled again. “You know me so well, don’t you? That profile of yours. Very accurate.”
She didn’t say anything.
“Fine, fine.” He shrugged. “What do you want to know?”
“Your parents, as I said.”
“Ah, the eternal question,” he whispered, leaning forward. “Nature or nurture.”
She dragged her teeth over her bottom lip. “Were you close to your parents?”
“No,” he said. “No, my father worked all the time and my mother was very… preoccupied. She spent a lot of time watching television, and she left me to my own devices. Is that what you want to hear?”
“I want the truth,” she said.
“That is the truth,” he said. “But it’s all in perspective, isn’t it? My mother might have been a little standoffish, but she loved me. She would spend hours slaving over elaborate cakes and cookies for my birthday parties, and she gave me lots of hugs and kisses when she put me to bed at night. I’m hardly what you might call a child with a traumatic home life. And Dad? He threw the ball around with me on the weekends, took me out for ice cream.” He shrugged. “Does that clear things up for you, Lorelei?”
No. It didn’t. At all.
“Were either of your parents… cruel?” she said.
He laughed again, and it was his full-on laugh, and the note of derision was right there on the edge of it. “Define cruel, Lorelei. Once I spilled a glass of milk and my mother locked me in my room overnight without any supper. It sure felt cruel at the time. But when I was growing up, that wasn’t an uncommon punishment.”
“For spilled milk?” she said.
“I spilled it all over her wedding dress. On purpose.”
She raised her eyebrows.
“She wasn’t paying attention to me,” he said darkly, as if he was still somewhat annoyed about the whole incident.
Lorelei got up out of her chair. “Thanks. That’s all I need.” It had been silly to think that she could understand whether or not Simon had inherited some kind of instability from Barker by trying to determine if he’d inherited it in turn. She could see that Barker was damaged now. Talking to him here, it was obvious. He might have fooled her before, but she was stronger now, wiser now. And all she wanted was to be done with him, once and for all.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
When she got home, Simon was already home from school. He was sprawled out in the living room on the couch, eating potato chips. He didn’t ask where she’d been. He only said, “Am I still grounded?”
“Why?” she said. “Does the chess club meet again tonight?”
“No,” he said. “I was just wondering.”
“I think so, yes,” she said.
He sat up and leaned over the back of the couch. “That’s not fair.”
“Sure it is,” she said.
“If what I did was so bad, then why did you delete al
l the pictures?”
She came into the living room. “Simon, I didn’t ground you for taking pictures of those girls.”
“I think you did,” he said. “You did it right after you found the pictures.”
“No, I did it because you lied to me about where you were. You said that you were going somewhere with Jordan, and you went off with this other friend of yours and took those pictures. By the way, are you ever going to tell me more about that friend?”
He groaned. “The friend isn’t real. I made him up.”
She was shocked. “Simon! Why would you lie to me like that?”
“Because…” He foundered.
“He is real. You’re protecting him.”
He groaned again. “Mom, can you please unground me?”
“What do you want to do tonight?” she said.
“Not tonight,” he said. “Tomorrow night. I want to go do stuff with Jordan tomorrow night.”
She pressed her lips together. “You expect me to fall for that again?”
“I’m not lying about it,” he said. “I wasn’t really lying last time either.”
“How do you figure that?”
“I can’t really explain that,” said Simon. “Because I’m trying to protect Jordan from stuff you don’t even understand.”
“Protect Jordan? What?” She sat down on the couch. “Please, you can talk to me, Simon. If there’s someone threatening Jordan, maybe this friend who you’ve taken pictures with or something—”
“No, Mom, you don’t understand. Just forget about it.” He went back to his chips, sullen.
She stood up. “I’ll think about the grounding thing, all right?” She was more bewildered than ever now.
* * *
She had the night off thanks to Mia insisting that she take it, but she didn’t really need the time off. She wasn’t reeling from the visit with Barker, after all. Something between them had been severed when she saw him, and she was grateful. She should have gone to see him a long time ago.
Simon was watching TV in the living room, and since she didn’t have anything better to do, she decided she would resume her Facebook snooping. It was risky with Simon in the house, but she didn’t think he’d really know if she were logged in at the same time as him, as long as she didn’t do anything as him, like post or something. If he did find out, she could always claim she’d signed in as him to check up on him and had simply forgotten to sign out.
Child of Mine: a psychological thriller Page 14
