Superbia (Book One of the Superbia Series) (20 page)

“He seems to be
doing just fine,” Frank said.
 

“Such a
shame.
 
I feel bad for the guy.
 
All those years in police work with no
problems, and then he has to deal with a tragedy like that.
 
Let him know I was asking about him, huh?”

“Heck’s widow and
kids are okay too, in case you were wondering,” Frank added.
 
 

“Sure, sure,”
Limos said.
 
“Your partner’s right this
way.”

Frank followed Limos
down the hall to the interview room and saw Vic sitting at the table, hunched
forward.
 
Frank opened the door and said,
“Get your shit, let’s go.”

Vic grabbed his
coat and stood up, his face red and sullen.
 
He shouldered past Frank down the hallway toward the front door.
 
Frank unlocked his car and Vic got in and
slammed the door behind him.
 
Frank got
into the car and started the engine.
 
“Just don’t say anything, all right?” Vic said.
 
“I don’t want to hear it.”

“Don’t
want to
hear
it?” Frank said.
 

“That’s
right.
 
I don’t want to fucking hear
it.
 
I don’t give a shit, so fuck off.”

Frank grabbed the
steering wheel so hard he thought it might break.
 
He gritted his teeth and yelled out, “You are
a fucking idiot!
 
You preach all this
holier-than-thou bullshit about The Job and how great you are at it, and then
you go and do something stupid enough to get fired and arrested.
 
For what?
 
Because your ex-wife is a cunt?
 
Okay, she’s a fucking cunt.
 
The
kids will grow up and see it for themselves someday, but now you aren’t even
allowed to see them anymore because you act like the dirtballs we deal with
every day.
 
You’re supposed to be better
than they are, Vic, not emulate them!”

Vic didn’t
respond.
 
He turned and looked out the
window.
 
“I don’t care anymore, Frank.
 
I just want it to end.”

“Good.
 
Go end it then.
 
What the fuck do I care?”
 
Frank slowed the car down to stop at a red
light and took a deep breath.
 
“Listen,
it’s late and I’m upset.
 
Let’s just—”

Vic grabbed the
door’s handle and popped it open.
 
He was
out of the car before Frank had time to shift into park.
 
“Where are you going?
 
It’s the middle of the night and we’re miles
from your house.”
 
Vic was already off of
the road, heading into the woods.
 
Frank
stood up from the driver’s side and said, “Hey!
 
Get back in the goddamn car, Vic!
 
This isn’t funny.
 
My knee
hurts.
 
I’m exhausted.
 
I will leave your ass here.”

Vic spun around
and glared at Frank, his eyes red and streaming with tears.
 
“I am sick of being used by everyone around
me, Frank.
 
I give everything I have to
Danni, and she only ever wants more.
 
It’s never enough.
 
I give
everything I have to the Chief, and he only shines me on with promises that
will never come true.
 
The only time I
feel alive is when I’m standing in blood and guts or talking to child molesters,
Frank.
 
Don’t you see how fucked up that
is?
 
For one second, try and imagine how
fucked up that is.”

“Maybe you need a
different job.”

“Do you know why
I became a cop?
 
I was curious,” Vic
said.
 
“I wanted to peek behind the
curtain of evil, but what I saw can’t be unseen, Frank.
 
No matter how hard I try.
 
All I had to hold onto was the kids, and
without them, it’s like the lights have all gone out.”

Frank balanced on
the roof of the car, breathing sharply to try and fight through the pain, “Just
get away from it then, Vic.
 
Quit.
 
Go find something that makes you happy.
 
I’ll help you look.”

“And do
what?
 
Stock shelves?
 
Ring a register?
 
The only thing I’m qualified to do is make a
seventy-five year old feel good enough about raping a child that he confesses
to it.
 
My whole life is a sick joke,
Frank, and I’m done.
 
I’m just done.”

“You’re not
done,” Frank said.
 
He moved to close his
door and barked in pain as his knee gave out.
 
“Hang on, Vic,” Frank gasped.
 
He
climbed on the asphalt to get to the front bumper, pressing himself up against
the hot headlights.
 
“Vic?
 
Vic!”
 
He
worked his way across the hood, hand over hand, limping to the passenger side
of the car.
 
He caught a glimpse of Vic
in the distance, running into the woods, going toward the darkness.
 
  

13.
 
There was a boatman standing on a dark shore,
holding a lantern.
 
The lantern’s flame
flickered in the wind as Frank approached.
 
He walked across the grey shale and it crunched like bones under his
feet.
 
The boatman was hooded and long
flowing robes covered his frame.
 
He
extended a hand toward him and Frank stopped walking.
 

“What do you
want?” Frank said.
 
“Why am I here?”

The boatman did
not respond.
 
Shale cracked and broke behind
him and Frank turned to see a man approaching the boatman.
 
“Hi, partner.”

Frank’s mouth
opened to speak but nothing came out.
 
“Heck?” he finally whispered.
 

“In the flesh,”
Joseph Hector said, smiling.
 
“Well, not
really.
 
You get the idea.”

The boatman
turned his hand toward Hector, and Hector snarled, “You already got my money,
you son of a bitch.
 
Get your hand out of
my face.”

The boatman
turned back to Frank and presented his open hand again.
 
His lantern’s light cast strange shadows on
the shore as the black sea splashed against the sides of his boat.
 
“Is that what he wants?” Frank said.
 

Hector put his
arm around Frank and said, “Not from you my friend.
 
Go back that way.”

Frank looked back
across the gray dunes.
 
“There’s nothing
out there.”

“Just keep
walking until you find something.”

Hector turned to
leave and Frank grabbed him by the arm, “Don’t go.
 
I have so much to say to you.
 
So much to ask.”

“I can’t go with
you, Frank.
 
I have to stay here.”
 
Hector made a fist with his right hand and
blew into the center of it, producing two small pieces of wax in his palm.
 
He took Frank’s hand and dropped them into it
and said, “Put these in your ears and never take them out.”
 
 

Something was
coming over the dunes toward him, crunching the shale as it walked.
 
The winds rose, blowing dust into his eyes
and bitter saltwater from the black sea into his mouth.
 
He lifted his hands to block his face, trying
to see who was coming, but all he could hear was the sound of something coming closer.
 
  

Then he woke
up.
 

***

The sun was out as
Frank pulled into the station’s parking lot.
 
Vic’s car wasn’t there.
 
He parked
and got out, feeling his heart beating harder with every step toward the
door.
 
Both the Chief and Staff
Sergeant’s cars were there.
 
Is that normal?
 
Aren’t they normally in later than this?
 

They came in early to initiate the firing of
one cop and the indefinite suspension of his partner for not reporting it
,
he thought.
 
That son of a bitch.
 
If I
survived getting shot just to lose my job over your bullshit I’ll kill you.
 
His heart pounded so fast now that he
thought people would be able to see his shirt move.
 

Frank punched his
code into the door and went in.
 
The
hallways were empty.
 
He headed for the
Staff Sergeant’s office.
 
Empty.
 
He went to the Chief’s office.
 
The door was shut.
 

They’re in there.
 
No doubt about it.
 
I might as well clear out my shit now and get
it over with.
 
Sweat beaded on his
forehead.
 
He turned toward the squad
room and headed for the water cooler.
 
Jim Iolaus was sitting at the computer terminal typing up a report.
 
He looked up at Frank in surprise and said,
“You all right?”

“What is that supposed
to mean?” Frank snapped.

“I mean, are you
all right.
 
You look like shit.”

Frank wiped his
forehead and nodded.
 
“My leg hurts.
 
That’s all.
 
What’s going on around here?
 
Anything?
 
The bosses in?
 
I checked their offices but the Chief’s door’s
closed.”
 
He knew he was speaking rapidly
but was too busy searching every inch of Iolaus for information.
 
“Any clue what’s up?”
  

“How the hell should
I know?” Iolaus shrugged.
 
He turned back
to the computer and started typing.

Frank limped
dramatically over to the coffee machine and poured himself a fresh cup.
 
He was about to turn when he caught sight of
something bald and enormous waddling toward him.
 
Here it comes.
 
The old,
“See
me in my office, Frank.”
 
He set his
coffee cup down and put his hands on the counter top to keep them from
shaking.
 

The Staff
Infection came up behind him and said, “Just the man I was looking for.
 
What is the status of the Lamia case I
assigned you yesterday?”

Frank turned
slightly and said, “It’s already down.
 
We arrested the old man last night and put him in jail.”

“Last night?
 
What the hell took so long?” Erinnyes said,
his usual sarcasm tinted with humor.
 
He
leaned over Frank’s shoulder and said, “I’ll take one.”
 

Frank snatched a
cup from the stack and filled it so quickly that it spilled over the ledge and
burned the tips of his fingers.
 
He
ignored it and finished pouring, then replaced the pot and headed for the
stairs as quickly as he could.
 

“You talking
about Peter Lamia?” Iolaus called out.
 
“The seventy-five year old you put in County?”

Frank stopped at
the hallway and said, “Yeah.
 
Why?”

“His wife posted
bail for him before he was even through intake.
 
He was home in forty-five minutes.”

Frank cursed and kept
walking.
 

***

The office door
was closed and it was dark inside.
 
Frank
pulled out his phone and dialed Vic’s number, letting it ring until it went to
voicemail.
 

He ended the call
and punched in a text message:
Call
me.
 
Asap.

He set the phone
down on his desk and slumped down in his chair, and jumped up again when the
phone rang.
 
“Vic!”

There was a
snicker on the other end.
 
“Not quite,
Frankie.
 
It’s Dez.
 
We grabbed Paris coming back to the
house.
 
I need you and Vic to get down
here right away for when we interrogate him.”

Frank
swallowed.
 
“Vic sicked out today.
 
Do you want me to still come down?”

“Typical.
 
Yeah, hurry up.
 
You don’t want to miss this.”

Frank tried to
call Vic again and it rang until voicemail.
 
He left another message telling Vic about the interrogation.
 
Telling him to pick up.
 
Telling him to call.
 
He kept redialing as he went up the stairs to
the hallway, and again as he walked toward the keybox.
 
He opened the keybox and saw that the only
set of keys left was for the marked unit Erinnyes had assigned him.
 
Frank hung up the phone and took them.
 

***

Frank parked his
patrol car on the street near the shipping dock, ignoring the strange looks of
truckers as they drove past.
 
He hurried
toward the unmarked door on the brick building and pounded on it, remembering
to have his badge ready.
 
Dez Dolos
opened the door and pushed him back toward the street.
 
“Did you come alone?”