Chapter Nine
Kevin
KEVIN COULDN’T SLEEP. It didn’t help that Nerd Needham snored like a walrus and the others down the row joined in. The racket echoed off the concrete walls.
He was thinking again. It was the wrong time to do that. In the darkness, his brain wouldn’t shut down. His fists clenched as he remembered what he’d seen that day.
Knowing Callaway had made the Amstaffs, Kevin had sauntered to the rec room to check the prick’s progress in the season’s opener. He’d plunked onto the Formica chair and stared grimly at the screen.
Not far into the game, the announcer screamed, “What a rebound! Young Callaway’s going places.”
Not only that. The dude was by no means ugly. Kevin furiously stared at the deep blue eyes set in the movie-star like face, topped by dark, wavy hair.
Pedro blew a kiss at the screen and smacked his lips. “I want you, baby. You’re sweet enough to eat.”
The other inmates hooted.
That was it. With an angry scrape, Kevin pulled out his chair and headed for the door. He fumed the rest of the day and spun revenge plans.
If Callaway hadn’t snitched on him in the first place, there wouldn’t have been a trial or the need for a false alibi.
Somehow he’d find the perfect payback. In the meantime, like so many other nights, this one would be long.
By morning’s light, he hadn’t come up with a plan. In desperation, he turned to the Chicago Sun-Times. The subscription was a Christmas gift from the old man, a link to the past, his touch with the outside world.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, he opened the paper to the sports section, scanning it for mention of a certain basketball player. Nothing this time, but he’d keep looking. The more he learned of Callaway’s habits, the better.
What used to be fun turned to torture as he forced himself to watch every Amstaff game. As the season progressed, so did Callaway. Like gossiping biddies, the reporters harped on each bit and piece of Callaway’s life. That’s how a few months later Kevin learned of Cathy McGuire, a broad who hung around with Callaway.
Sprawled across his bunk, Kevin turned the pages of the sports section. He stopped when he caught sight of Callaway alongside a red-haired looker. His hands gripped the paper as he yanked himself up for a better view. What stared back set his heart thumping. She was a real princess, the sweet, wholesome type you wanted to fuck nonstop. The sight gave him a huge boner. He wanted her bad.
He couldn’t have her. He was locked up in a cage.
Frustrated, Kevin tore the page, smashing it into tiny pieces beneath his heel. Hot, helpless rage engulfed him as he stared at the scattered papers, then at his filthy cell. He shouldn’t be here. None of this was his fault. If it weren’t for Callaway, he’d be free.
The prick had it all. Now, to top it off, he was poking a red-hot babe, while poor schmuck Kevin rotted in an infested box, wondering if he should bother to jerk himself off again.
Glaring, he glanced upward at his cell mate, Jonathon Needham, bookkeeper embezzler extraordinaire. Needham, as usual, silently stared into space. The nerd couldn’t say two sentences in a row and wouldn’t know a tit if it were stuck in his mouth. A solitary photo of his horse-faced ma was taped beside his bunk.
Not for the first time, Kevin wished Brad were back. At least he’d made the place bearable. They’d confided in each other and sympathized over the unfairness of their fates. Having a listening ear hadn’t set Kevin free, but had helped him endure.
He wondered how his old buddy was doing. The last thing Kevin had heard, Brad and a few of the other “alums” had set in motion the plans Kevin had devised in electronics class. So far, they appeared to be succeeding.
Through a network of fake IDs, they’d obtained human resources positions at leading security firms and hired employees in the normal fashion, except for the chosen ones, whose purpose it was to scope out valuables in fancy homes. The scopers and managers stayed clean so no one could guess what valuable information they passed along.
Page two of yesterday’s paper held two paragraphs about an art heist in Winnetka. Kevin wondered if his friends had pulled it off, but could only sit tight and wait for word. The grapevine was slow, but effective.
It hurt that he couldn’t be out in the thick of it, instead of stuck in this tiny cell with the nerd of all nerds. Kevin sighed as self-pity set in. He hated when he felt this way. Weakness was a curse.
Like a treadmill going nowhere, his mind spun back to the past, to what he’d almost had. He missed Mary Alice. He’d been so close to having her. After seven years, you’d think he could have gotten over it. He had to let go and be realistic. No amount of wishing could bring Mary Alice back. Forcing back angry tears, he kicked the papers beneath his foot.
One page stood out in the mess. Almost like a sign, a vision of long, red ringlets framing innocent blue eyes stared back at him. Cathy McGuire was one hot broad. Callaway didn’t deserve her.
THE NEXT DAY the guard announced, “Green, you’ve got a visitor.”
There was only one person who’d entered the prison gates to visit Kevin and that was his old man. Though Derek was a loser, he was family. The old man had lied for him and that meant something. Too bad he hadn’t pulled it off.
This time Derek was all hyped up, rattling on about a broad named Sharon and bragging that her nipples were the size of quarters.
“She likes it on top. I don’t even have to work,” Derek confessed with a huge grin.
Before Kevin’s imprisonment, Derek and Kevin had exchanged many such confidences and had outdone each other with exaggerations. That was then. Kevin didn’t want to hear about it now. He’d warned Derek.
“What the hell’re you doing? You know that stuff gets me hornier than hell and I can’t get a woman. There’s only self-service here, unless you’re a dick smoker, which I’m not.”
Derek looked sheepish. “Sorry, kid, I forgot.”
“Well, try to remember next time before you open your trap, okay?”
His old man nodded. “Yeah, I see your point. If I were in your shoes, I’m not sure what I’d do.” A mirthless laugh escaped him. “Maybe shoot myself, I guess. I can’t go two days without a woman.”
“Well, I don’t have that option. Prisoners aren’t allowed guns, for obvious reasons. Anyway, the way you’re talking, if I had one, I’d go after you first.”
Derek seemed surprised at his son’s bitterness. “I didn’t mean no harm. Just making conversation.”
They fished around for more topics to talk about. Fortunately, time ran out.
Derek rose. “I’ll see you around, kid.”
“Sure, Dad.”
Kevin wretchedly watched the retreating figure. His only family member had walked out the door, possibly never to return.
As the guard led Kevin back to his cell, he felt like a lost and abandoned child. Hell, even children weren’t left to rot in cages. If Derek were a decent father, he’d forgive his son and understand. A mother would.
That set him to wondering again about Ma. He didn’t remember her and that made him feel gypped. He’d once heard from an uncle who’d since passed on that when Kevin had been three, Ma had caught a thoroughly soused Derek balling a scroungy chick on the living room couch.
That’s when the old lady had hightailed it out, abandoning Kevin to the old man’s attentions. It could have been worse. Dad probably hadn’t been thrilled about being stuck with a brat, but in his haphazard fashion, he’d done his best. Unfortunately, booze was the old man’s curse and also Kevin’s. If Derek hadn’t been at the pub when Mary Alice was murdered, the alibi would have held.
Kevin sighed. There was no use dwelling on the impossible.
An hour later, Nerd Needham’s horse-faced mother was announced as a visitor. The nerd smiled in anticipation and almost bounced off the bars.
Resentment flared in Kevin. Why couldn’t his mother visit him? Where the hell was
she anyway?
Mothers were respected. The inmates considered them the ultimate visitors. Steven Summers, in particular, spoke of his Mom as if she were a saint.
He’d once said, “Hell, that woman has no cause to love me, yet she cries each time she sees me. When I think of what I done by murdering her own mother, and yet Mama still loves me…well, it chokes me up inside.”
Kevin wondered what unconditional love felt like, the kind that didn’t choose between good and evil. If anyone loved him that much he’d feel all-powerful. It would be better than fucking a woman and hearing her beg for more.
Damn, he’d missed out on that whole mother-kid thing. There was only one person who could give it to him and he had no idea if she was alive or dead.
As he glanced around his cell, a hard knot formed in his stomach. He was on his own. No one cared about him but himself. He had to remember that.
That same night he had a dream, one he’d had before. He was a baby. His old lady was screaming at him.
“You’re worthless. This is what you deserve,” she said, thrusting him head first into the toilet bowl.
He sputtered as he hit the icy water. Just then, the old man rushed in, stuck his hands straight into the bowl and pulled Kevin out.
He awoke shivering. The prison heat was on the bum again, which seemed to often more often than not. Maybe they kept it cold to save money and make the prisoners suffer.
Thirteen years left in this frozen hellhole, yet he wanted out now. Nothing would help him at this point, even a visit from his long-lost mother. If she did show up, she couldn’t perform the miracle he yearned for most.
A LONG TWO MONTHS passed before Derek’s next appearance. Kevin pretended nothing had happened. He’d learned his lesson. From now on, he’d keep on Dad’s good side.
To start with, he asked Dad for news of the old neighborhood. It had to have changed in the past seven years, yet for some reason, Kevin still felt part of it.
Unfortunately, Derek didn’t know much of what was going on, except that the city was replacing some curbs. He was still fired up about the babe he’d babbled about on the last visit.
Kevin looked at his father incredulously. Derek never stuck with a broad this long. Could he be serious? Was he falling for Sharon? It was hard to believe, but maybe after all these years, the old man was settling down.
The thought twisted his gut. If Derek did get remarried, Kevin wouldn’t be his only family. Someone else would matter more. Derek wouldn’t bother coming to visit. Fear and jealousy shot through Kevin, but he tried to appear nonchalant as Derek described the saint. Too bad she wasn’t Kevin’s real mother.
His mother had to be out there somewhere. He’d like to see her at least once. Where was she?
Kevin cleared his throat. With heart hammering, he broached the subject. “Dad, uh, I’ve been meaning to ask...have you heard from Ma recently?”
Silence stretched. Blinking rapidly, Derek looked across at Kevin, then said, “Shit, son, I must’ve forgotten to tell you...I probably got drunk that day...Hell, Gloria died about six years ago. She had pneumonia.”
Kevin’s heart plummeted. An immeasurable feeling of loss gripped him. Until this moment, he hadn’t realized the importance of seeing his mother at least once. Now it would never happen. Fate had robbed him of the opportunity.
He swallowed hard and smiled wanly, trying to hide the hurt. “Hey, don’t worry about it. I was just wondering, that’s all. Besides, the old lady was never around anyway. She never meant anything to me.”
Derek looked relieved, then said, “You know, son, this time I’m doing things right. Sharon’s a great gal and I’m being real good to her.”
When the old man had left, the fear returned. What if Sharon decided to keep Derek from visiting him? If so, there would be no one left. Part of him said it wouldn’t happen, yet the part that hadn’t known a mother insisted it could. He had to be prepared.
That confirmed it. He better get used to loning it.
It wouldn’t happen overnight. The next day, as was his custom, he comforted himself by pulling out his newspaper, the one evidence that Dad cared. He’d check on Callaway again. That would keep him busy. Before he could turn to the sports section, a headline caught his eye.
Copycat Killer Strikes Again, it read.
His hands trembled as he focused on the article. Another sweet-looking blonde had been raped and killed in the Lincoln Park area. Well, it served them right. When would the cops wise up?
A wild idea hit him. Would it work? Dare he give it a try? He hated to get his hopes up, but what was the alternative?
From the corner of his eye, he spied a fast movement. With fascinated loathing, he watched a cockroach dart across the floor. No chickening out this time. He had to do it.