Chris Carter - An Evil Mind

‘Well,’ Lucien said, leaning forward and placing his elbows on the table, ‘I don’t really know “exactly” who did it, but it’s a logical conclusion. It has to be either the person who I was supposed to be delivering the car to, or the one who delivered the car to me. If they didn’t directly do it, they’ll know who did. They are the ones you have to go after.’ Lucien paused and let go of a deep, heartfelt breath. ‘You have to help me, Robert. I’m not the one the FBI wants. I didn’t do this. I’m just a delivery boy.’

For the first time, Hunter noticed a slight emotional trepidation in Lucien’s voice. He knew the car wasn’t registered in Lucien’s name. The FBI had told him that, but this was the first he’d heard of Lucien delivering the car to someone else.

‘You were taking that blue Ford Taurus to someone?’ Hunter asked.

Lucien’s eyes averted Hunter’s once again. When he finally spoke, his tone was back to being calm and controlled, but it carried a hint of anger this time.

‘The reality is, life doesn’t treat everyone equally, my friend. I’m sure you know that.’

Hunter was uncertain of what Lucien was really talking about, so he waited.

Lucien’s gaze quickly moved to the cameras on the ceiling, and then to the large two-way mirror just behind Hunter. He knew he was being recorded. He knew that nothing he said would be private to only Hunter and himself, and for the briefest of moments he looked embarrassed.

Hunter picked up on his friend’s sudden discomfiture, followed his stare, but there was nothing he could do about others listening in. This was the FBI’s show, not his. He gave Lucien a moment.

‘After I left Stanford, I made a few mistakes,’ Lucien said. Paused. Rethought his words. ‘Actually I made quite a few mistakes. Some of them very bad.’ He finally looked back at Hunter. ‘I guess I should start from the beginning.’

For some reason, Lucien’s words had an atmospheric chilling effect, as if all of a sudden someone had switched on an air-conditioner unit inside the interrogation room.

Hunter felt the awkward chill trickle down his neck and travel down his spine, but held steady.

Lucien had another sip of his water, and as he did so, the look in his eyes became melancholic.

‘I met a woman during my second year at Yale,’ he began. ‘Her name was Karen. She was British, from a place called Gravesend, in southeast England. Have you heard of it?’

Hunter nodded.

‘I hadn’t,’ Lucien said. ‘I had to look it up. Anyway, Karen was. .’ He considered what to really say. ‘. . different from what most people would expect a Yale PhD student to be like. . or look like.’

‘Different?’ Hunter asked.

‘In every aspect. She was a free spirit, if you believe people can be such things. You remember the kind of girls I used to go for, right?’

Hunter nodded again, but said nothing, allowing his old friend to carry on uninterrupted.

‘Karen was nothing like any of them.’ A timid smile parted his lips. ‘When we met, she was forty-two. I was twenty-five.’

Hunter had started taking mental notes.

‘She was five-foot-one. A whole twelve inches shorter than me. . and curvy.’

Hunter remembered that Lucien used to be attracted only to tall, slim women — five-foot-ten or over, with a lithe, dancer’s body.

‘She also had quite a few tattoos,’ Lucien continued. ‘A lip piercing, a nose piercing, her left ear was stretched to a full centimeter, and she had this Bettie Page-style fringe.’

This time it was hard for Hunter not to show surprise.

‘I thought you didn’t like tattoos.’

‘I don’t. And I don’t much care for facial piercings either. But there was just something about Karen. Something I can’t really explain. Something that grabbed hold of me and didn’t let go.’ Another sip of his water. ‘We started dating just a few months after we met. It’s funny how life is always full of surprises, isn’t it? Karen looked nothing like any of the girls I used to go for, she didn’t act like them either, but nevertheless, she was the one I fell head over heels for.’ Lucien paused and looked away. ‘I guess I can say that I was truly in love.’

Hunter saw a muscle flex on his friend’s jaw.

‘She was a very sweet woman,’ Lucien said. ‘And we got along fantastically well. We did everything together. Went everywhere together. Spent every second together. She became my haven, my heaven, my heart. I was living a dream, but there was one problem.’

Hunter waited.

‘Karen had gotten involved with some very bad people.’

‘What kind of bad?’ Hunter asked.

‘Drugs bad,’ Lucien said. ‘The kind of bad you don’t mess with, unless you’ve grown tired of this life and feel like exiting it in a very violent way.’ He finished the rest of his water in three large gulps before crushing the paper cup in his right hand.

Hunter took note of his friend’s silent angry outburst, stood up, poured him a new cup of water, and placed it back on the table.

‘Thank you.’ He stared at the cup. ‘I’m sorry to say that I wasn’t strong enough, Robert,’ Lucien continued. ‘I’m not sure if it was because I was too much in love, or if I was just swallowed up by the moment, but instead of talking her out of it, I ended up joining her, and trying some of the stuff she was using.’

There was a pain-stricken, embarrassed pause.

Hunter carried on observing his friend.

‘The problem is,’ Lucien moved on, ‘and I’m sure you know this, some of this shit is hard to only try .’ He looked down at his hands. ‘So I got hooked.’

‘What kind of drugs are we talking about here?’

Lucien shrugged. ‘The heavy kind. Instant hook stuff. . and alcohol. I started drinking a lot.’

Hunter had seen so many strong people fall victim to those kind of drugs, he’d lost count.

‘From then on everything went downhill, and in a hurry. All the money I had went into supplying Karen’s habit and mine. It ate away at my finances faster than you could imagine. My entire life started suffering. I dropped out of Yale in my third year, and would do anything to get my daily fix. I ran up debts everywhere, and with the wrong kind of people. The people Karen had introduced me to. The really bad kind.’

‘You didn’t have anyone you could turn to for help?’ Hunter asked. ‘I’m not talking about financial help. Someone who could help you kick the habit, bring you back.’

Lucien’s gaze met Hunter’s and he chuckled derisively. ‘You know me, Robert. I never had that many close friends. The few I had, I had broken contact with.’

Hunter read the hint. ‘You could’ve still looked me up, Lucien. You knew where I was. We were best friends. I would’ve helped you.’ Hunter paused and his stare went hard as he realized his mistake. ‘Shit, you were already hooked when you flew down for my PhD graduation, weren’t you? That’s why you only stayed in LA less than twenty-four hours. But I was so consumed by the moment that I didn’t even notice. That was you asking for my help.’

Lucien looked away.

Hunter felt a stab of guilt cut through his flesh. ‘You should’ve said something. I would’ve helped you. You know I would’ve. I’m sorry I didn’t notice it.’

‘Maybe I should have. Maybe that’s just another one of my bad mistakes. But I’m not going to cry about things long gone, Robert. Things that can’t be changed. Everything that happened to me was my own doing, my own fault, nobody else’s. I know it, and I accept that. And yes, I know that everyone needs a little help every once in a while. I just didn’t know how to ask for it.’