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“Pushing another reality on someone else because it’s a reality within you that you’re not facing,” she says, her back still facing me.
“There you go. Doesn’t that sound like what this is?” I ask her, reaching out my hand, touching her shoulder gently, testing the waters. She doesn’t move away from me and I brush my thumb across her shoulder bone.
She shrugs her shoulders and begins to walk away again. “No, no, no. You can’t be right.”
“Why not? Is it impossible that what I say could be true?” I ask. “Look at me, Julissa.”
She shakes her head.
“Julissa, look at me. I know that all of this must be confusing as hell for you right now. But I promise you, I mean you no harm.” I start to walk toward her but she puts her hand out, creating a barrier between us, giving herself some time to think.
She shakes her head as if disagreeing with the voices in there. “No, Mikhail. You’re wrong. You have to be. I’d know my own father.”
I can see Calder who had gotten up to get himself some coffee return to the living room now, staring at me in disapproval. Aw, hell. I hope he doesn’t start.
She continues, “And I don’t know if I should find it hilarious or fucking stupid that as a former cop, you wouldn’t be able to spot the signs that something about this man is off. Tell me, Mikhail. What about this man makes you think he’s not my father? I’d love to know since you don’t know the man.”
“Don’t disrespect me,” I say about the cop comment.
“Don’t you think you’re disrespecting me? So humor me for a bit and answer my question,” she says and I clear my throat. She stares at me in defense.
“Okay. You’re right, I don’t know the man, never met him a day in my life. But as a former cop,” I jab, “I’m supposed to be able to make informed guesses based on the information I’ve received. And I wouldn’t say the man isn’t off. I mean the relationship between him and the woman is definitely off-putting but she looks to be of age and if she is, then I’m just judging. And secondly, based on what you’ve told me…” I’m cut off by Julissa.
“Hold on, so you’re not the least bit concerned with the girl’s age?” she asks me with a look of disgust and I hate what she’s implying.
“Well of course I fucking am. But what am I supposed to do, huh? I’m no longer a cop, as you just reminded me, and I’m trying to keep a low profile, something you seem to forget.”
I allow my frustration to get the better of me. I’m going to have to reel that in unless I want to set her off again. I know I got through to her so I just need to answer her question if she ever lets me, so she can hear my side of things which will hopefully help her see the man differently.
“So, what? Because you’re trying to keep a low profile and you’re no longer a cop, you’re just going to start ignoring potential crimes now?” she asks.
Does she hear how ironic she sounds? Still, I’m not pressing her buttons. “No, Julissa. That’s not what I’m saying. You’re right. When they come to pick up their car, I’ll see if I can manage to sneak the girl away and ask for her age. Is that better?” I ask her.
“Yes. That would help if it doesn’t put you too much out of your way,” she shoots back with a sneer.
Whoo! Okay. This is difficult. “So did you want me to answer your question? Or?” I ask her.
“Oh sure. Go right ahead,” she mocks.
I count to ten inside my head and then I speak. “So you asked me what it is about the man that makes me think he’s not your father. Well based on the information you gave me, I’m going to say that I can pretty much tell if someone’s on drugs. Doesn’t seem to be on any to me.”
She scoffs loudly. I ignore her.
“Secondly, he’s an attentive grandfather as far as I can tell. Sure, his family seems shy and he looks disciplinary but I mean, so did my father. He doesn’t strike me as much different than many other older people I’ve seen.”
“Good lord, have you always been this naive?” she asks me.
“I wasn’t finished.” I shoot her a look.
“Well excuse me. Please continue.” She widens her eyes.
I’m not getting through to her anymore. She’s set on believing that this man is her father and I’m afraid of what will happen if she continues to believe that. Who knows what she’ll do to the old bastard who I honestly don’t believe is her father?
“Killing is like an itch, isn’t it?” I ask her now, circling her.
“What?” She spins around to look at me.
“Admit it, you’re looking for something to set you off. Give you a reason to kill,” I push.
