Pieces For You (24 page)

“I don’t believe I ever confessed to any such crimes,” he returned mockingly.

I sighed at his cliché answer.  While it was not surprising, it was fucking annoying.

“It is my understanding that you
did
confess to your last victim.  Was I misinformed?”

“Everleigh claimed I confessed a litany of sins to her, but her own mental stability could be called into question.  Did you know her best friend had been attacked a week prior to our supposed conversation?  I am sure she was distraught and not thinking clearly.  I can’t imagine her statement will hold much weight.”

I gripped the edge of the table, reminding myself of my goal.  While slamming his head against the concrete floor repeatedly would be satisfying, it would prevent me from fulfilling my objective.  Refocused, I continued.

“Do you enjoy hurting people, Mr. Varbeck?”

“I enjoy giving people what they secretly want and fulfilling their deepest desires.”

“And you believe the girls abused at Hensley wanted to be hurt and maimed?”

“I imagine they loved every minute of the game, it was only afterward when confronted with the judgment of their friends and family that they cried foul.  During the game, I imagine they would have been crying out, playing along to get more of what they yearned for.”

I went through the motions of making notes on the legal pad, allowing me to hide the fury blazing in my eyes.

“What of the three girls who were murdered?  Do you also
imagine
they wanted their lives to be cut short in such a brutal fashion?”

“I can’t say for certain—I wasn’t there after all—but I would guess anyone participating in such games understands the inherent risks.  Accidents do happen.”

“Are you capable of telling the truth, Mr. Varbeck?”

“I am certainly capable, but it’s terribly boring—wait, maybe it’s just you who is boring me,” he chuckled to himself.

“Are you disappointed that you failed to conquer your last two victims?  After such a long and successful run, it must be disappointing to end in failure.”

I smirked with satisfaction as Heath gritted his teeth—I had found a sore spot.

“I have never
failed
at anything in my entire life, only temporary setbacks.  I am a very determined and resourceful man.”  His smile was sinister and the resolve in his eyes unmistakable.

“Do you believe you have that kind of reach?  You are behind bars, after all,” I prodded.

“You still believe I’m going to be convicted?” he asked, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table.  “The influence, resources, and money my family will dedicate to freeing me are limitless.”

I shook my head at his arrogance, a dangerous vice that had led to the downfall of those far more intelligent than him.

“You’ll never get the opportunity to finish what you began—you’ll likely die behind bars.  Have you considered the possibility?”

“Who do you think you are talking to?  You can’t imagine the reach my family has.”

“Ah, your family,” I said, leaning forward, mirroring his position.  “You are every parent’s worst nightmare realized.  You are a problem they must solve for their own benefit, and when this is over they’ll pretend you never existed.  How does that make you feel?”

I watched as his face reddened and he fidgeted in an effort to restrain his anger.  I smiled in satisfaction.

“You have no idea what you are talking about.  They’ll never stop trying to free me…they believe me.”

“If it makes you feel better, you are welcome to cling to that belief, but mark my words, they won’t be sitting behind you offering support during your trial.  Have they even come to visit you since you were indicted or have they just sent the family lawyer?”

“Shut the fuck up,” he barked.

“It must cut deep that you can’t even fool your own parents—the people who are supposed to love you unconditionally.  It doesn’t bode well for your ability to fool a jury.”

“I told you, I will never step foot inside a courtroom for trial.  It won’t get that far.  I heard the prosecution’s witnesses are dropping like flies,” he gloated.

“Do you believe you can dissuade all of the witnesses from testifying?  Even
you
must admit some will be too committed to seek justice to bend to your will.”

“Would that be the fiery Everleigh?  Everyone has their price.”

“You can’t honestly believe everyone can be manipulated with money.”

“You may be right, but I can only imagine what choices Everleigh will make if forced to choose between love and justice.  Don’t you think she would forgo testifying to protect her boyfriend, or maybe her best friend?”

I slammed my fist on the table without conscious thought of what the gesture revealed.  Heath eyed me, assessing.

“She means something to you—Samantha.  How is that lovely piece?” he taunted.

I gripped the edge of the table and locked my feet around the legs of the chair to keep myself from killing him on the spot.  Fuck, this was infinitely harder than I had anticipated and my control was balancing on the edge of a razor.

“I know you, don’t I?  I thought you looked familiar.  You’re that bartender from The Stop, one of their guard dogs,” Heath snarled.

“Does it make you feel powerful abusing women?” I tried to steer us back on course.

“How did you even get in here?  You’re a freaking bartender!” he uttered as if the word was a profanity.

“I just completed my master’s in Clinical Psychology and am finishing up clinical hours today for my licensing requirements.  I only have one more assessment after you.…Lionel.  Have you met him yet?”

I knew damn well Heath knew who Lionel was—everyone incarcerated at Riverhead knew.  The man dwarfed me, which is virtually impossible.  I’ve seen Hummers with less mass.  He was the man who dictated the prisoners’ social structure, and the inmate all others refrained from pissing off at all costs.  You did not want to be on his radar if you weren’t his ally.  He was in for life on several counts of first-degree murder resulting from turf wars over narcotic distribution channels in the impoverished areas of Long Island.  He should have been transferred to the state prison over a year ago, but overcrowding kept him in the maximum-security wing at the county jail—much to Lionel’s delight.  He’d rather be the biggest fish in a small pond.  He used his time at Riverhead strategically, building his reputation beyond local lore, so that when he was transferred to state prison, he would be assured a privileged position in the prison’s caste system. 

Over the past months, I used our evaluation sessions to develop a rapport with the kingpin; we wouldn’t be exchanging Christmas cards, but we shared a mutual respect.  When he mentioned that his eight-year-old daughter struggled with reading, I found a tutor willing to assist the little girl for free.  Lionel may have earned every year of his life sentence, but his daughter should not be punished for her father’s choices.  I learned the only thing in the world Lionel cared about above money or himself was his daughter.  I had earned an ally in assisting the little girl, an unexpected boon.

“Everyone knows Lionel, he’s hard to miss,” Heath confirmed.

“I’ve met with him a few times.  I helped his daughter out with a tutor.”

“How touching,” his retort dripped with sarcasm.

“I think we’re finished.  It is my assessment that you have Antisocial Personality Disorder.  I’ll file the report today and after it is reviewed by my supervisors, your lawyer will receive a copy,” I advised as I rose to my feet, standing beside the table.

“Thank fuck, it’s about time one of you shrinks diagnosed me.  I told you I would never stand trial,” he crowed.

“Oh no, you misunderstand.  You definitely have ASPD, but that is not sufficient to have your charges waylaid for mental incapacity.  It’s actually considered one of the least ‘curable’ of the personality disorders and means you were able to process the ramifications of your actions.  You are going to stand trial and if you introduce your mental state, the jury will hear that you have ASPD—like most serial killers—thus deemed unfixable.  You are going to spend the rest of your miserable life behind bars upstate in maximum security.”

Heath flew from his chair and lunged for me—thank God!  I was hoping to incite him to take aggressive action against me so I had justification to get my hands on him.  He swung for my face but I avoided contact and grabbed him by the throat, using my five-inch height advantage to secure him against the wall and suspend him by his neck so that his feet could not touch the floor.  I leaned in close enough to whisper in his ear, guaranteeing the closed-circuit cameras wouldn’t record any sound.

“If you threaten Sam or Everleigh in any way, I will make sure you spend the rest of your life pissing out of a tube—and if any harm comes to them, you won’t live to see the end of the day.”  I smiled before adding, “One more thing about Lionel.  He has even less tolerance for child abusers than the average inmate—he’s a real sadistic bastard when it comes to teaching those deviants a lesson.  I’d watch my back if I were you.”

“What are you talking about?  I never touched any kids,” he gasped, struggling to speak with my hand still clamped around his airway.

“Oh,” I shrugged, “my mistake.”

I stepped back and released my vice grip, causing him to crash to the floor, gasping for breath and clutching his throat.  The door opened behind me and one of the prison guards came into view.

“Everything okay in here, Mr. Evensen?” the guard inquired while eyeing Heath’s crumpled state.

“Mr. Varbeck took a swing at me as I was leaving, but I managed to subdue him.  His uncontrolled rage makes him a danger to others.  I suggest you exercise caution.”

I exited the room to the sound of Heath cursing and shouting.  The panic in his voice was crystal clear, much to my satisfaction.  Now he would live with a taste of the fear he had caused thousands of women at Hensley.

I proceeded to the second assessment room and greeted Lionel.  This would be our last meeting.  He was one of the inmates I was assigned to evaluate for the purpose of determining the impact of prison on those incarcerated and how convicts adjust to the sub-culture of prison.  Inmates like Lionel were at an advantage coming from a gang society, since the dynamics of prison society offered many of the same conventions.  However, everyone dealt with the loss of freedom differently, especially when that liberty was gone for the rest of their natural life. 

Lionel was not a good man.  He was not someone you would want to run into in a dark alley at night, but he wasn’t evil.  He was largely a product of the environment in which he was raised and the culture he lived.  If Lionel had been born into another family and grown up in a suburb, who knows where he would have ended up?  Lionel was taught early in life that his options for survival were limited, and he is a survivor.  Given his massive size, joining a gang for safety and income was the best choice available to him as he saw it.  The harsh realities of his life didn’t excuse his actions, but in context you could see the forces that pushed him down the road he walked.  There was little I could do to help him, but I hoped to leave him with a reminder of what was in his best interest for his remaining sentence, which would also benefit the prison.  In many ways the warden did not run the prison, Lionel did.  If he directed prisoners to lash out at guards, instigate fights, or riot, they would do as he said.  It was in everyone’s best interest to avoid such incidents.  Controlling the climate and behaviors of the prison population allowed the guards to safely execute their jobs, and Lionel was the puppet master—he had that power.  If he used his influence wisely, his remaining time at Riverhead would be relatively long and pleasant. 

“How are you doing, Lionel?”

“Livin’.”

“I heard the State extended your inmate transfer freeze indefinitely.  Looks like you’ll stay in Riverhead for a while, provided you aren’t deemed a threat to the security of the prison.”

“Ya, good for Lionel,” he said with a gold-toothed smile.

“You know that means you need to play it cool, keep things under control?”

“Always keepin’ it cool.”

“We both know you’re in for life, nothing is going to change that, but your quality of life will be directly related to how well you control the others.  Keep them in line, ensure the guards aren’t hurt, and everyone will benefit.”

“Tell Lionel what he don’t know.”

“You’ve done a good job keeping everyone calm, cleaning up issues the guards couldn’t address the same way you can, and have kept violence to a minimum.  If you continue to do so, you will be here sitting pretty for a while, and I know that is what you want.”

“Hells ya.  I gots them.”

After my final assessment, I advised him this would be my last visit.

“Not gonna lie, dawg, rather it be you than those otha shrinks…sorry to see ya go.”

I bumped my fist against his extended one as I rose.

“I’m sorry to be leaving, but I’m glad to get away from most of the guys here.  That last guy I was just with—” I paused to shake my head as if distressed by the visit.  “What he did to the girls at Hensley was bad enough, but what he did to those kids…” I added a subtle shudder for good measure.

“That white boy killin’ them college bitches was fuckin’ with kids?” he gritted out.

“You know I’m not allowed to answer that question—I would lose my job.”

I held his eyes with a hard stare.  He nodded in return.

“A’ight Doc, keep on the straight.”

I offered him a chin lift as I exited the room.  Mission accomplished.

As I drove home, I considered the consequences of my actions.  Heath was likely to be violated the same way he had violated those women before dinner was served.  This brought me more satisfaction than it should, but I didn’t care.  I had stretched the ethical bounds of my intended profession to their breaking point, but I couldn’t find it in me to regret my actions.  The New York State legal system would not deliver the type of retribution Heath deserved.  My justice may be vigilante but it was true justice.