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He gave the orderly his bright-young-child look, then crossed the width of the fluorescent-lit tunnel and jogged up a flight of stairs to the top landing, which was the lower-level entrance to the North Tower. There was a keypad beside the doorframe, as well as a doorbell. Neddie knew the code to the keypad, but that was his secret. He pressed the button.
He waited a minute, and then the door swung open and Dr. Hoover was there.
Once, after Neddie first met Dr. Hoover, the doctor had given him a quizzical look and asked him, “You’re just fooling with me, aren’t you, Edward?”
Neddie had said, “Fool-fool-fooling with you.” He had grinned brightly, like the brain-damaged, mentally challenged dolt he pretended to be. Hoover had said, “I’ll see you in our session tomorrow, same time, okay, Edward?”
Neddie had said, “Same time!”
Dr. Hoover was smart and wary, but that was okay for now. Hoover kept Neddie on his game. If Hoover ever got onto Neddie’s act for real, he would have a surprise heart attack. What a shame. What a loss that would be.
Now Hoover said, “I was just looking for you, Edward.”
“I went down for a snack,” Neddie said, clapping his hands.
“I hear you. But it’s time for dinner now.”
As Neddie followed Dr. Hoover down the linoleumfloored corridor, past the dispensary, he sneaked the empty vial and the used syringe out of his Windbreaker pocket and dropped them into the needle disposal can outside the nurses’ station.
A second later he ran, catching up to Dr. Hoover’s longlegged stride, entering the common room and going from there to the noisy, joyful chow room that fronted on Bush Street.
Neddie squealed “Helloooooos” and waved various hand signals to other patients, cupped the cheeks of Billy the Kid, saying, “Hiya Billy, Billy good?” He pushed Billy the Kid’s wheelchair up to table 6 and took a seat at one end.
Dinner servers came by with the trolley loaded with big vats of food, ladled out the green beans and the mash, slapped down a side of fish next to the veg. Another server came with the jugs of lemonade, pouring it into upheld plastic cups, orderlies watching on the sides, breaking up the fights.
The Hyde and Seek Loony Bin was a zoo, all right, populated with some of the most peculiar people in the city.
Neddie knew how to fit right in. No one would ever suspect him. No one would ever find him here. They thought he was autistic. They thought he had fetal alcohol syndrome or that he’d been dropped on his head. They said he had a low IQ and couldn’t live a productive life on the outside. But Neddie knew better.
He had been getting away with perfect murders for years. That—that was genius.
He held up his cup for lemonade, and when it was full to the brim, he sucked it all down.
Ahhhhhh. It was good to be Neddie Lambo.
And it was good to be home.
CHAPTER 51
YUKI WAS ON the phone with Brady when Len Parisi loomed huge in her office doorway.
“Jury’s back,” he said.
“I’ll call you later,” she said to her husband.
For the last two weeks, sleeping in the same bed with Brady had been impossible. He was the kind of sleeper that could jump awake if the faucet was dripping in the bathroom down the hallway. And she couldn’t sleep without flailing, punching pillows, making a cocoon for herself with the blankets, and talking in her sleep.
So she’d “slept” on the couch, her mind poring over every word of the days of testimony and her interpretation of things said, not said, questions asked and answered or not asked at all.
Brady had called this trial her “comeback tour,” and it felt that way to her. The Sci-Tron disaster was a big-league crime that would never be forgotten; nor would the horrible, insane defendant, who was as clever as the very devil. And Yuki felt rusty after the year of pro bono small potatoes.
Now Len was waiting for her and within the next half hour they both would learn if the jury’s decision was win, lose, or hung.
Yuki locked up her handbag and followed Parisi out into the busy hallway, threading the maze of cubicles and taking the elevator down to the second floor.
A sheriff opened the court
room door for them, saying, “Good luck.” Yuki smiled, said, “Thanks,” and with Len headed up the center aisle, through the filled gallery toward the prosecution table.
