Jose’s body stops shaking almost at once. He lies on the floor for a couple of seconds, tears in his eyes, and then he quickly gets to feet, grabs the tray, and hurries out of the room, the man following him.
I decide at that moment when I kill Oliver Hayward he’ll suffer greatly.
Hayward takes his hand back from Carla, folds his hands again with his elbows on the table as he studies me.
“You don’t approve of our form of conditioning. It’s understandable. You were raised to believe children should have positive reinforcement, yes? That they should be encouraged to do well, and that they should be praised for when they do well so that they continue to do well. It’s a nice concept in theory, but that’s all it merely is, a theory. Here at Neverland, we’ve come to find children are best reinforced with pain. If they do something they shouldn’t do, they are zapped. If they look at somebody the wrong way, they are zapped. If they say something they shouldn’t, they are zapped.”
Carla seems to be off in a world of her own, both hands now tapping away at her cell phone.
Hayward notices this but keeps his eyes on me as he continues.
“My love shared with me what she spoke to you about earlier. She said she went over the basics. How we’ve been watching you for a while. How we knew we would someday come to need your services but weren’t sure when that day would come. It was Carla’s idea for you to eliminate those ICE agents. For many months they’ve become a thorn in our side. I respect greed as much as the next person, but there comes a point when greed becomes problematic. Those men needed to be eliminated. Killing them ourselves would have been easy—we hire freelancers all the time—but when you’re killing two federal agents, it’s best if somebody’s face is associated with the crime. Otherwise faceless killings always turn into too much drama. It is always preferable to give the authorities and news media a villain.”
He looks at the woman with adoration.
“Carla sensed you were the kind of person who would not let sleeping dogs lie, so to speak. She knew if Juana approached you covered in blood, gave you a duffel bag with a baby inside, and then you witnessed Juana murdered by those ICE agents … you would not let those men’s crimes go unpunished.”
He shoots me a grin.
“By the way, what did you think of the pinkie finger? That was my idea. I thought it added a nice touch.”
He chuckles, realizes that Carla is still staring at her phone, and quickly composes himself.
“The agents believed Juana was delivering them money. She had been instructed to throw herself in front of their car. She knew she would die that evening, Ms. Lin, and yet she still went through with it. That is what I call ultimate compliance, though I suppose the real reason is love. Juana loved her child so much she was willing to die. She believed if she went through with what we asked, we would spare her child.”
Hayward pauses to pick up his wine glass.
“Juana, as it turned out, was not very smart.”
He takes a sip of his wine, sets the glass back down.
“Once we knew you would go out to the shed in the oil field, we contacted the agents to let them know we had left a girl there for them to, well, play with. Both men had a fetish for pregnant girls.”
I remember how Mulkey and Kyer approached the shed like they had never been there before, jiggling the lock on the main door, and how the cowboy had been surprised that the girl was in fact there.
I stare back at Hayward across the table and speak in a calm, measured voice.
“I’m guessing the men from the highway were freelancers.”
“Yes.”
“They killed two U.S. Marshals.”
“Yes.”
“Won’t that cause drama, too?”
“Certainly. And I should note it is a shame one of those men was killed in the operation, but the risk comes with the job. Anyway, all of that will be associated with you. Obviously the authorities know you couldn’t have taken out the Marshals yourself, but it’s doesn’t matter. It’s another point in your timeline for this week. First the ICE agents, then the Marshals, and then …”
He pauses again, a grin now lighting on his face.
“Love, do you think I should tell her the target now or wait for later?”
Her focus glued to her phone, Carla absently reaches out to pick up her wine glass.
Hayward tries again, much more forceful this time.
“Love.”
She pauses, glances at him.
“What?”
“Should I tell her the target now or wait for later?”
Carla shoots me an indifferent glance before shrugging.
“I don’t care.”
For the first time, Hayward looks irritated.
“If you’re not going to participate in our conversation, you might as well leave.”
Carla doesn’t need to be told twice. She immediately pushes back the chair and stands up.
“Fine. I’ve had a long day as it is, and as I told you, I’ve already eaten.”
She doesn’t say anything else, simply turns and walks through the door.
Hayward forces a smile at me.
“Women! What can you do?”
Before I have the chance to tell him to slap the bitch, the door opens again and Jose reappears, followed by his minder. This time his tray holds two plates. He’s much more confident with the plates, and balances the tray with one hand as he sets one of the plates down in front of Hayward. Then he walks the length of the table to set the other plate down in front of me.
I’m surprised to find a thick cut of steak, along with mashed potatoes and asparagus. The steak looks charbroiled and smells amazing.
Hayward clears his throat again.
“Louis told me what you requested to eat, and so I had the chef make this specifically for you. Unfortunately, we do not currently have any lobster tail, but you probably knew that, didn’t you?”
Something
