Vic looked back at him but said nothing. Frank reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell-phone to check his text messages. He looked up to see if Sal had finished reading yet, but the kid’s mouth was trying to wrap itself around the word custodial. He smirked and started to type on his phone when he realized Vic was glaring at him. “Put that away,” Vic whispered.
Frank sighed and dropped the phone back in his pocket, sitting up as Sal slid the signed form back across the desk. Vic picked up Lyssa’s suicide note, clearing his throat to read it aloud. Sal’s mother leaned forward, listening intently to every word Vic said, squinting like it would help her better understand. Vic came to the part concerning Sal very slowly, giving her a chance to hear every syllable. Sal did not flinch.
When Sal finished reading the letter, Vic held it up to show them where the blood stains were. “That’s from her, where she blew her brains out in the bathroom of the foster home she was living in. A thirteen year old little girl, Sal. How’s that make you feel?”
Mrs. Mormo looked at the letter in horror and spoke rapidly in Spanish to her son. He shrugged and answered back, “I don’t know.”
Vic put the letter back in its envelope and folded his hands on the table. “Anything you want to tell me?”
“About what?”
“About Lyssa!”
Sal shrugged and said, “Who’s Lyssa?”
Vic leaned across the table and shouted, “The little girl you raped and forced into suicide. How many people have you done this to that this isn’t ringing a bell, genius?”
“I don’t know any Lyssa.”
“Lyssa?” his mother said. The two of them shook their head no.
Vic checked the envelope and saw it was addressed to Mrs. Rose from “Li-Li.” He showed them the envelope and said, “How about Li-Li? You know a Li-Li, Sal? Her brother is currently locked up in a sanitarium upstate because he at least he had the decency to admit what he did.”
“Li-Li,” Sal said, nodding with recognition. “I know her. She got my boy put away. She a lying bitch—”
Vic’s hand shot across and snatched Sal by the collar, yanking the boy halfway across the table and slamming Lyssa’s letter against his forehead like he was tacking it to a wall. “So help me God I will beat you like a dog if you finish that sentence, young man.”
Sal’s mother took him by the shoulders and drew him back into his seat. Vic leaned on the table, looming over them, “I just wanted you to know that this investigation is just getting started. I will arrest you for rape and see you tried as an adult. I will put you in a state prison with a thousand angry, lonely, bored men who can’t wait for fresh meat. I will make a phone call to my good friend who works at the prison and make sure you get the right cell-mate.”
Sal held up both hands and shouted, “I swear to God I don’t know what you are talking about! Please, listen! I don’t even know this girl. She thought she was my girlfriend!”
“Get out.”
Sal moaned and buried his face against his mother’s shoulder, sobbing until snot bubbles popped out of his nostrils. His mother looked at the three of them in confusion but still wrapped her arms around her son and patted him on the back as he wailed.
Vic pointed at the door and said, “The two of you, get out of my police station.”
Sal clutched his chest and gasped, “I can’t… I can’t breathe… I can’t walk.”
Vic jumped out of his seat and raced around the table, snatching the back of Sal’s chair and shaking it until he fell on the floor. “You have ten seconds to leave here on your own two feet or I’m dragging you out by your ears.”
Mrs. Mormo lifted her son from the chair and started pulling him away from Vic, who stalked behind them with both fists clenched, closing on them. Every time Sal stopped walking, Vic made like he was going to kick him. “I’m still counting. You’d better move.”
Vic pushed the station’s front door open to let the mother and son stumble into the parking lot. The boy collapsed on the walkway and vomited on his mother’s toeless shoes.
Frank wedged past Vic in the lobby to hurry back to the lunchroom for a handful of wet paper towels and a cup of water. Vic stared at him as he carried the items outside to where Sal was sitting in the walkway. “Here you go. Clean yourself up. You okay?”
“Thank you, sir,” Sal whispered meekly. His eyes were swollen and drool spilled out of his lower lip. Frank lifted the young man to his feet and walked both him and his mother to their car. He watched them leave, then turned back to face the station lobby, but it was empty.
He headed for the stairs, wincing the moment he put weight on his knee. The pills were already wearing off, but he didn’t have time to stop. He hobbled and hopped the rest of the way down the stairs, using the walls of the hallway as props, until he was close enough to the detective’s office to shout, “You down here, motherfucker? Where the hell are you?”
Vic looked up as Frank came into the doorway and said, “How do you think that went?”
“How do I think that went? Where did you learn to interview a suspect? You put us in a major jackpot on my first freaking day!”
Vic’s face turned curious and he folded his hands behind his head. “You serious? How do you figure?”
“You manhandled that kid, you screamed at him, you told him you were going to get him ass raped in prison for a crime we cannot prove, and then you threw him out when he was having a medical emergency!”
Vic considered all of this for a moment. “So?”
“So? So, I’m already being sued in federal court, douchebag. I don’t need to be involved in any more shit!”
Vic stamped his finger on Lyssa’s letter and said, “That little girl killed herself off of what those motherfuckers did to her. Her brother admitted to everything she accused him of! Do you believe for one second that she wasn’t lying about Sal?”
“So what?” Frank said. “We can’t arrest him. You lied about that.”
“He doesn’t know that. But you’re right. We can’t arrest him. We both know that. Aside from today, he will never have to face any consequences for the role he played in Lyssa’s death. So was I hard on him? Yes. Do you think I got my point across?”
“If the point is that you are a nutcase, then yes.”
Vic shrugged and said, “If your complaint is that he didn’t have a good time here, that he didn’t enjoy the experience of having to talk to the police about a crime he committed, then I fail to see the problem. If you thought I was going to wipe his ass and make him feel all warm and fuzzy, you’re in the wrong division.”
Frank used his shirtsleeve to wipe the sweat off his face. It came away soaked. “Listen, I’ve got to run upstairs for a second. I need to cool off.”
“Okay,” Vic said. “Hey, Frank? Cream and two sweet and lows, please.”
Frank limped into the hallway. There was an open closet door near the staircase. He ducked inside of it and closed the door behind him. He reached into his pocket and shook several pills into his hand. He threw them into his mouth and swallowed them, having to keep swallowing saliva to get them down. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, waiting for the pain to abate. After a few moments, he relaxed and went back down the hallway.
Vic frowned when he came back in. “That was quick. Where’s my coffee?”
“I couldn’t make it up there,” Frank said. “My leg started to hurt on the way so I came back. Listen, I’m sorry for going off on you like that. I’m just stressed out.”
Vic watched Frank go back to his seat and sit down at his desk. He continued to stare, even as Frank turned away and tried to concentrate on setting up his new desk.