Vicarious Page 3

  “Excuse me.”

  Curran turned around at the same time as Kwon and found himself staring into the deep blue eyes of a thirty-something woman with short brownish hair and carefully sculpted eyebrows.

  “Hi,” said Curran.

  Kwon moved in front of him. “Can I help you?”

  “I'm Lauren Fields. You've got my brother here, I think.”

  Kwon looked at Curran. “Yes. Yes we do.” He guided her over to the gurney in the examination room so she could see the body laying on it. Curran followed.

  Her eyebrows came down slightly and a frown pressed itself across her face. Curran wondered if she'd cry.

  She didn't. She just kept staring at his face. “That's him.”

  “Sorry for your loss,” said Curran.

  She almost smirked. “'Grade A scumbag', was the term I believe I overheard you using in reference to him.”

  Curran cleared his throat. “Yeah, well, that was probably not the best choice of words.”

  “Actually, I'd say you were right on target.” She nodded at the gurney. “That man caused a lot of heart ache. God knows how he survived as long as he did without someone doing what happened last night to him earlier.”

  Kwon guided her back toward the office. “I've got some forms for you to sign, Ms. Fields.”

  Curran tagged along. “You knew about his past?”

  “Of course. How could I not know what he was up to. We grew up together, he and I. I always knew what kind of trouble he was involved with.”

  “But you couldn't stop him.”

  She stopped and turned. “Just who are you, exactly?”

  “Forgive him,” said Kwon. “He's just a nosy cop with no tact.”

  “A nosy cop,” said Curran, “Who's investigating the death of your brother.” He held out his hand. “Steve Curran.”

  She took it and kept looking into his eyes. “I can't say it's a pleasure to meet you, detective.” Her eyes crinkled slightly. “Given the circumstances.”

  “I guess not.”

  “You can probably let go of my hand now, too.”

  Curran stepped back. “Sorry.”

  She turned to Kwon. “Those forms?”

  “Over here.” Kwon gave Curran a frown and then led them into the office. While Lauren signed the various forms, Curran examined her as covertly as he knew how.

  She obviously kept in shape judging by the trim outline concealed under the slacks and blouse she wore. The outfit itself was modest, neither revealing skin nor cleavage. But somehow, Curran found it appealing anyway.

  She finished and straightened, flattening the wrinkles in her blouse with one hand as she tucked away a fountain pen with the other. “Is there anything else?”

  “We'll let you know when the body can be taken by the funeral home for proper burial,” said Kwon.

  “Thank you.”

  “Ms. Fields?”

  She turned to face Curran. “Yes?”

  “I wonder if we could speak a few moments about your brother? It’d be a big help.”

  “You're putting in an awful lot of time to my brother's case, Detective. Not something I'd expect for the likes of someone like him.”

  “I'm putting in the sort of time my career demands. Professional,” said Curran. “Whether or not your brother was the kind of guy I'd recommend for sainthood isn't the point. A crime was committed and I aim to see it solved.”

  “Admirable.”

  Kwon frowned. “Don't let him fool you, Ms. Fields. Curran is probably the straightest-laced cop you'll ever find. If it's work, he gives one hundred and ten percent.”

  “That must not leave much time for anything else,” said Lauren.

  Curran shot Kwon a look. “I take my job seriously is all. I’m lucky to have a lot of time to devote to my job.”

  “Not many people in today's world commit themselves so entirely.”

  Curran shrugged. “Can I take that as a yes that you'll sit down and talk to me about your brother?”

  “You aren't going to posthumously persecute him for some of the things he did while he was alive, are you?”

  Curran smiled. “Last I checked, I don't think our courts work that way.”

  “All right then.” She dug into her pocketbook and extracted a vanilla business card. “My number's on the back. Call me this evening. I've got some free time then.”

  “I'll do that.”

  She nodded at Kwon. “Nice meeting you. Please let me know about the body. A proper burial's important to me.”

  “Will do,” said Kwon. He and Curran watched her go.

  “Damn,” said Curran.

  “Kind of an understatement, Steve. She’s a knockout,” said Kwon. “But hey, you got her number. That's gotta count for something.”

  “No thanks to you trying to cut me down at every opportunity.”

  “Didn't you once tell me nothing worth having ever comes easy? I know how much you groove on challenges. I was just trying to make you appreciate the gal.”

  Curran smirked. “Of course you were. And really, I do appreciate it.”

  “Always glad to help out,” said Kwon. “Now will you get out of here and let me work?”

  “I’m going,” said Curran.

  At the door Kwon stopped him. “Steve.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I want details. You got it?”

  Curran smiled. “Sorry, I don’t kiss and tell.”

  Kwon sniffed. “Steve, if you get any kind of play at all, you won’t have to say a word. It’ll be all over your face in big bold letters: FIRST TIME IN YEARS.”

  Curran gave him a smile, then extended his middle finger and walked out.

  Chapter Three

  I don’t know why I agreed to this, thought Lauren as she entered the restaurant. She could already see the smile on Detective Curran’s face, but kept her own face neutral.

  He stood as she got to the table. “You look great.”

  Lauren narrowed her eyes. “That’s not usually the type of comment I hear about this outfit.” She ran her hands over the white blouse and gray herringbone skirt. “Most people think I look too much like a school teacher.”

  Curran smiled. “I used to have crushes on all my teachers.”

  Lauren ignored him, glancing around the room. “Interesting choice for our meeting – pastel pinks and yellows on the walls and stainless steel lighting.”

  “This is gourmet Chinese. The owner used to collect art all over Asia so this is something of a gallery for his acquisitions.”

  “Gourmet Chinese? What exactly does that mean?”

  “Means you don’t have to skirt puddles of grimy water and urine down in Chinatown to get a decent meal. You do eat Chinese, right?”

  “Sure.” She noticed him staring at her neck. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing at all. I was just wondering if that gold cross you’re wearing is something special.”

  She fingered the cross, feeling the cool metal against her fingertips. “Special is measured in a lot of ways, Detective.”

  “Steve.”

  She eyed him again and he looked away. Lauren almost grinned. She knew her gaze could be unsettling when she wanted it to be.

  Curran turned his attention to the menu. “The Mandarin beef is excellent here.”

  “That sounds fine.”

  He put the menu down. “Is something bothering you?”

  Should she tell him? Her stomach felt queasy then. She noticed the smells of the restaurant and felt her appetite wane. Lauren took a breath and exhaled. “Why did you ask me here?”

  “I told you earlier, to find out some background about your brother.”

  She shook her head. “You say that, but I feel like there’s something more.”

  “What are you – psychic?”

  “Are you confirming my feeling?”

  Curran looked at her. “I'm not the enemy here, Ms. Fields.”
>
  “Lauren.”

  He smiled. She shrugged. “Seems only fair if I have to call you Steve.”

  Curran folded his white linen napkin on his lap. “I’m just a cop trying to figure this whole thing out.”

  “Figure what out: my brother's killer or me?”

  Curran smiled. “Yes.”

  She tried to hide the small grin. “At least you're honest.”

  “So?”

  She sighed. “There's not a lot to tell. My brother was the only real family I had left. Our parents died a number of years ago.”

  “But you don’t seem all that broken up about his death. You said yourself this morning that he caused a lot of heart ache.”

  Heartache. If only it had been that and nothing else. If only he’d only caused a fraction of the horror he’d wrought. She sipped some water. “My brother was a complete piece of garbage for the majority of his life.”

  “I think we’ve got most of it in his jacket down at headquarters.”

  Her stomach churned again. You don’t know any of it, she wanted to say. Nothing! She wanted to yell and cry and vomit then. Even after so many years, the pain could still surge without warning.

  “Are you all right?”

  She took another sip of water. It slid down her throat, cold against the rising heat within. She felt flushed and wondered if Curran could see the turmoil coursing throughout her. He seemed astute enough.

  “I’m fine.”

  Curran’s eyebrows waggled a bit but he went back to studying the menu. She felt better with his eyes not boring into her.

  “You’re not being entirely up front with me, Lauren.”

  “There may be some things I’m not ready to share.”

  He looked up again. “Even if they help me catch this killer? Even if they help save the life of another person?”

  “It’s not that easy.”

  He nodded. “I’ve seen a lot of miserable crap in my life. I know not everything is as it seems on the surface.”

  That was the problem. On the surface, Lauren could keep everything calm. But deep down inside she knew the death of her brother would haunt her for years. Just as he had in life.

  “I don’t see how what I could tell you would help you catch this killer. And it’s probably better that I don’t.”

  Curran set his menu down and stared at her again. She could see his eyes soften, almost like his pupils had expanded. Darkened. They drew her in. She found her breathing relaxing. She felt her shoulders loosen.

  “Whenever you want to tell me, that will be fine.”

  Even his voice had softened. Deepened. It almost seemed to resonate within her. She felt the heat dissipating.

  The waiter came by and Curran gave the order all the while still looking into her eyes. When the waiter disappeared again, Curran broke the eye contact and took a sip of his water.

  “Are you all right now?”

  Lauren smiled. “Fine. Thank you.”

  Curran grinned. “For what?”

  “Whatever you just did there. I felt like I was being relaxed. Almost hypnotized.”

  “Oh that.”

  “Yes. That.”

  “You wouldn’t believe the things you pick up being a cop. I learned that from a psychologist one time. I probably shouldn’t have done it with you, but you looked so concerned – no, terrified. I figured it wouldn’t hurt if I took you down a notch.”

  Lauren nodded. “It worked quite well.”

  “You feel like talking any now?”

  “Do we have to?”

  “No. We don’t have to do anything except eat. But it would help me out an awful lot if I knew something more about your brother. Especially since I can see there’s plenty that didn’t show up in his file.”

  She sighed. Would it ever get easier? Would it ever go away entirely? There was only way to find out.

  “You know all about how he started breaking into homes, right?”

  Curran nodded. “Sure.”

  “And then he worked his way up to stealing cars. He used to get into fights a lot, too.”

  “Assault. Yeah, I saw plenty of that in the jacket.”

  “Was he suspected of murder?”

  “Couple of times. Nothing ever stuck to him. Especially since he got involved in organized crime back in the late 80’s.”

  “He killed easily enough, my brother did.” Lauren closed her eyes for a moment, trying to shut out the images of her brother covered in blood coming back one night.

  Curran’s voice was a whisper. “What else, Lauren?”

  Lauren looked down. Her eyes felt moist. Hot. Her throat closed. She clutched the napkin under the table. Twisting it into knots.

  “Have you ever done any reading on the criminal mind?”

  Curran nodded. “Most of us cops have.”

  “Then you probably know that the experts always say that criminals – the really deviant ones – don’t start out as horrible as they eventually become. They start small at first.”

  “An experimentation stage, in other words.”

  “Exactly. Experimentation.” The word made her shudder.

  The hot and sour soup arrived. Lauren didn’t look at it. Neither did Curran.

  “Go on.”

  “In order for a creature of habit to become that, he first needs to find a habit he enjoys. Do you follow me?”

  “I don’t really know.”

  She looked at him. “Evil doesn’t exist solely on its own, Steve. It can’t exist without being nurtured. An evil act cannot stand on its own; it needs roots. It needs time to grow.”

  “You’re likening this to a seed.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m doing. My brother didn’t become a monster overnight. He didn’t even become a monster just in the pages of whatever file you have on him down at the police station.” She took a deep breath. “He started a long time ago. Ages before he came to the attention of the police.” She turned away. “He started in the shadows and the whispers of dark scary nights when no one else was around. No one…but me.”

  Curran cleared his throat. “Lauren-”

  “No. Don’t stop me, Steve. Please.”

  “We don’t need to talk about this now. Not here.”

  “If not now then when? I’ve kept things to myself for too long.” She smiled around the tears that dribbled out of her eyes. “Believe me, I walked the path of the victim for years. It's a stupid waste of time. Far better to make peace with the past you can't change and forge ahead into the future. That's become my mantra of sorts.”

  “That's a tough path to walk alone.”

  “It’s the toughest thing I’ve ever done.” She sat silent for a minute before looking at the soup. The swirling contents mirrored the churning deep down in her bowels. The thought of putting any of it into her mouth repulsed her. She bit down on her lip, trying to stem the rising gorge at the back of her throat.

  “My brother raped me, Steve.”

  He nodded like he’d known. Like he’d been able to see into her soul and feel her torment.

  “Was that the start of it?”

  The waiter reappeared with the main dishes. Lauren watched the plate of beef, set off with red peppers and broccoli, sizzle on the table. The waiter brought two small rice bowls, each packed with white grains. The Szechuan chicken completed the meal. Curran didn’t acknowledge the food and the waiter looked annoyed as he walked away.

  Lauren waited until they were alone again. “It didn’t seem so evil at first. Does that sound foolish of me?” She shrugged. “Maybe it is.”

  “It doesn’t.”

  She tried to smile. “But maybe that’s what makes evil so potent: in the beginning it’s never easy to see.”

  “What happened?”

  Lauren looked away from the food. “At first it was the silly kind of stuff a brother and sister might do. Peek-a-boo here and there, you know? We were both young. It could be forgiven by even
the most uptight therapist as completely natural.”

  “But it didn’t stay there.”

  “No.” Lauren sighed. “When it became too much for him – when his hormones became too much for him to control – he forced himself on me. Countless times.”

  “You couldn’t tell anyone?”

  “It’s funny that everyone who hears about sexual abuse thinks it’s the easiest thing in the world to just tell someone.”

  “I wasn’t saying that-“

  “But it’s not, you know? It’s the scariest moment in your life when it happens. And when it keeps happening. How could I tell anyone? I thought I’d been the reason why he did what he did. I thought I was to blame.”

  “It wasn’t your fault.”

  “But in some way it felt like it was. I don’t expect you to understand that. I doubt very much anyone who hasn’t gone through what victims of those crimes go through would ever understand it. It’s the most horrible feeling in the world. I didn’t feel safe anywhere. I couldn’t hide. I couldn’t run away. All I could do was wait for the next time. And pray every time would go faster than the last. That he’d…finish quicker than before and leave me alone to cry into my pillow again.”

  She saw him lower his eyes again. “I can’t imagine what that must have been like.”

  “Don’t try.” She sighed. “It happened throughout most of my junior and senior year in high school. Thankfully, he left soon after to live on his own. He found...other playmates.”

  “Victims, more likely.”

  “That's probably true.” She sighed. “My brother, he was probably one of the most evil people I ever met. Him being my brother didn't make that fact any easier to take. I heard about his atrocities. He used to even brag sometimes about things he’d done.”

  “He used to visit you?”

  “He tried to. I moved around a lot but somehow he used to find a way to run into me. He never touched me after he moved out, but I could still see the desire in his eyes. There was that gleam. But there was something more – something vile about him. In so many ways, he seemed to bleed lechery like it was the plague.”

  “You know if he used to prey on anyone else?”

  “He used to brag about his sexual conquests all the time. Whether they were true or not, I don’t know.” She felt her stomach lurch again. “The odd thing is, I can't figure out who would want to kill him. I mean, sure he had enemies, but the kind of enemies he had wouldn't have killed him in such a nondescript way.”