The Darkness of Evil (Karen Vail #7)(57)

“I don’t know,” Kubiak said, rubbing the palm of his left hand against that of his right. “I’m telling you the truth. One day he shows up there in a transfer. We just took it to be luck. I got to see my buddy and he knew I was looking out for him. I’d slip him some cigarettes, spices, cookies, anything he could sell on his block.”

“What about the escape?”

“I wasn’t involved in that.”

Vail chuckled. “You believe him, Rambo? ’Cause I sure don’t.”

“Not for a second.”

Kubiak’s knee began bouncing again. He thought a moment, then sighed. “I knew it was going down but I didn’t do anything to help. All I did was introduce him to a few people who might be … good targets, care bears. But that was a long time ago. If it’s connected to his escape …” He shrugged. “Can’t tell you. Ask Rocky.”

“We will,” Ramos said.

“What about the nurse? Sue Olifante?”

“She was one of them people I figured would help him. She was having a tough time in her marriage and she seemed to be looking for a sympathetic ear. Depressed, needing validation. She’d gained ten pounds and didn’t feel good about herself.”

“So you told Marcks this.”

Kubiak nodded.

“And he went to work, complimenting her, making her feel good, telling her what she wanted to hear. What she needed to hear.”

“I guess so,” Kubiak said, his voice flat.

“You know so.”

Kubiak shrugged and dropped his gaze to the floor.

“What else did you help him with?” Ramos asked.

“Just giving him the lay of the land when he came over. Who to stay away from and, like I said, which COs were care bears. I may’ve given him some personal information on a couple of officers.”

“Great colleague,” Vail said. “Really had their backs, didn’t you?”

Kubiak looked away. “My friend needed me. I didn’t see it as doing anything wrong. I just told him about people. He did everything. And those people he approached, if he did, well, they’re adults, you know? They make their own choices and decisions.”

Already lining up his defense. Impressive. “Is Marcks gay?”

Kubiak seemed to recoil into himself. “Why are you asking me that?”

“We ask the questions here,” Ramos said.

He sighed. “It wasn’t something he talked about. But yeah.”

“Then how did you know?”

“I—” He slumped and let his head drop. “Do we really need to discuss this?”

“What do you think?” Ramos said.

Kubiak closed his eyes and, after a long moment of thought, looked at Ramos. “It was a long time ago. After his wife died. He said he had a meeting and asked me if I’d pick his daughter up and take her to a soccer tournament she was in. I said sure. So I did, except that Jasmine—that’s his daughter—had forgotten her cleats, so we ran home to get them.”

“And you walked in on him?”

“They were in his bedroom. But Jasmine heard the noise and went in. And she found her dad … uh, well, you know.”

“I can guess,” Vail said, “but guessing won’t cut it. We need to know.”

“He was fu—he was having anal sex with this guy. The other guy was on his hands and knees and Rocky was behind him.”

“Okay. And what was Jasmine’s reaction? How old was she?”

“Ten or eleven, I think. She was, well … I don’t know. She ran out of the house and back into my car.”

“And then what happened?”

“Nothing. I followed her to the car and we went back to the field. The coach got on her case a couple of times for not hustling, but nothing really stands out.”

“Did you talk to her about it? On the car ride over?”

“I tried to, but I mean, I didn’t know what the hell to say. I didn’t know what Rocky’d want me to say. I asked her if she had any questions. She didn’t answer me. I told her to talk with her dad about it.”

“And? Did she?”

“No idea.”

“Did you ever ask him about it?”

“Once. He said to forget what I saw and if I told anyone about it, I’d be sorry.”

Some friend.

“Obviously,” Vail said, “you didn’t forget about what you saw. Did you ever tell anyone about it?”

“Rocky’s a pretty scary guy. In case you haven’t noticed.”

“That’s a no?” Ramos asked.

“That’s a hell no.”

“Right.” Vail set the frame back on the coffee table. “Did you ever know him to have a heterosexual relationship?”

“Nope. I mean, he was married, you know that. Other than that, no.”

“How’d his wife die?” Ramos asked.

“Accident.”

Ramos tilted his head. “Car accident?”

Vail knew the details surrounding Rhonda Marcks’s death but would let Kubiak answer—sometimes you learned a morsel of long-withheld information that was not reported to the police.

“She slipped on a skate in the garage and fell backwards, hit her head on the concrete. Smashed it in pretty good.”