Page 54 of Two Kinds of Stranger

Was he born that way? Or was it his upbringing? Logan tried not to think too much on this. The past could not be changed. He could only move forward.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He took it out, smiled.

Grace, the girl he had met on the subway, had replied to his message.

A drink sounds good. See you there at 8?

He texted a reply confirming the date. As he hit send, he felt something strange.

It wasn’t excitement, not exactly. Not like the delicious thrill that had shuddered through him when he put a bullet into Karl’s skull. This was different.

Strange.

For the first time in a very long time, Logan felt nervous.

He made sure no one had entered the lot. Then he opened the door, got out and shut it quietly. As he stepped away from the van, a boy wearing a puffer jacket and sweatpants pulled up on his bicycle at the mouth of the lot.

Logan couldn’t see his face. His cap was pulled down too far.

Logan tensed. The boy was twenty feet away.

The boy sat on his bike and stared, then said, ‘You can’t park in here.’

Logan stopped, just a few feet past the van. The lot had brick walks on either side. On one of them someone had spray-painted, in white,No Parking.

‘Are you the owner?’ asked Logan.

‘My dad owns this lot. You can’t park here. See the sign,’ he said, and pointed at the wall.

Logan reached into his jacket and took out his wallet.

‘Sorry, didn’t see it. My friend here, he’s on the job, but he’s had a rough day and put down a few beers with lunch. He just needs twenty minutes to sleep it off. How about twenty bucks, for the use of the space?’ said Logan, retrieving a twenty and holding it up for the kid.

The boy stared at the bill clamped between Logan’s fingers. The boy kicked off the ground and rode his bike into the lot. As he got closer, Logan was able to see his face.

No more than fifteen years old, if that. His puffer coat was old and ripped in a few places, with graying tufts of insulation peeking through the tears. His sweatpants were of a similar age and covered in lint balls. The kid pulled up on his bike, justwithin reach, and stretched out a hand to take the twenty. He had dirty fingernails.

‘Why aren’t you in school?’ asked Logan.

‘My old man doesn’t care.’

Logan had felt the same way, at that age.

He nodded. He stretched out his right hand, let the twenty fall and grabbed the boy’s wrist.

Logan leaned back, quickly, yanked the kid clean off the bike and pulled him toward the van. Pivoting as the kid came stumbling forward, Logan put his left hand on the back of the kid’s head and drove his face into the front grille of the van.

Thethumpof the kid’s head hitting the grille was accompanied by an equally loudcrackas the boy landed on his chest in front of the van.

His dead eyes stared back up at Logan, his neck horribly twisted.

Logan sat on his ass, and with his feet pushed the boy’s body underneath the van. It was more difficult than he first thought. The van didn’t have great ground clearance. As he kicked the boy’s legs underneath, he thought about what he might wear when he met Grace tonight. The Armani charcoal suit, certainly, perhaps with the black Versace shirt and the polished, calfskin Salvatore Ferragamo Oxfords. For his timepiece, either the Patek Philippe Golden Ellipse or the vintage Cartier Tank. He didn’t want to look too formal, so perhaps the Cartier would be preferable.

Once most of the body was underneath the van, he got to his feet and lifted the boy’s bike, smashed the handlebars into the hood, to make a dent and ensure mutual transfer of paint for the forensic investigators.

He stood, took out his phone and exited the lot. From his VPN, he accessed a secure internet connection and logged into Karl Kaplinsky’s email. He made one addition to the draft emailto Karl’s boss. Karl’s depression and isolation were bad enough, but the last straw had been when he’d run over a kid in a parking lot. Karl knew he was going to jail, apologized to the boss for the damage to the van and had decided to check out permanently.

Logan hit send on the email. No point in waiting any more.