Superbia (Book One of the Superbia Series) Read Online Free Page A

  It was not your fault.
    When I was seven years old my brother
started coming into my room and forcing his thing into my mouth when I was
sleep.   I’d wake up not bein able to
breathe.   When I cried and tried to fight
him off he told me to roll over an put his thing in my butt.   I had trouble walking for days after, and
just when it got better it would happen again.
    He told his friend Sal, and Sal made me do
the same things for him.   I begged and
begged for them to leave me alone, but they never did.
    When I told my Mom she called me crazy and
sent me to the doctor.   I told the doctor
I wanted to hurt myself and they put me in the hospital.   When the bills became too much at the
hospital, my Mom signed me over to the state and that’s how I wound up
here.  
    I liked it here and wish I got to know you
better.   Thank you for being nice to me.
    Love Always, Lyssa
    Vic showed him
the letter, pointing to the dark red stains splattered across the page’s
surface.   “Lyssa’s brother already
confessed.   He’s in a psychiatric
hospital upstate.   This kid Sal lives in
our town.   You got any little ones,
Frank?”
    Frank nodded,
“Two little girls.”
    “Imagine if one
of them wrote this,” Vic said.   He could
see the pain in Frank’s face and lowered his voice, soothing him, saying, “What
we do down here is deadly serious, and if you’re going to work with me, you’d
better understand it.   I don’t give a
rat’s ass what the bosses or patrol thinks.”   He held out the envelope to Frank and said, “You asked me what I
do.   I go after people who ruin innocent
lives.”  
    Frank took the
envelope and said, “So what are we going to do with this?   The victim’s dead, right?   How can we arrest somebody if there’s no
evidence but a dead girl’s statement?”
    “We’re not going
to arrest Sal.   I just want to have a
little chat.”  

3. The young man
sat in the station lobby, texting on his cellphone.   His baseball cap was cocked sideways and
pulled down over the tops of his ears.   The silver logo sticker was still on the brim.   Next to him was a large, dark-skinned woman,
her fake dragon-lady fingernails nervously tapping on her designer
handbag.   Frank looked at it again.   It was an imitation.  
    “Sal Mormo?”
Frank said.   “Who’s this?”
    “My mom.”
    “ Really?   The two of you can come with me.”
    They followed him
to a meeting room to see Vic   across the
table from them, the pages of Lyssa’s letter spread out in front of him.   Vic kept his eyes on the table, ignoring
their greetings, telling them to “Sit down.   We have to take care of something first.”
    Frank picked up a
juvenile rights form and read it out loud, “You don’t have to be here.   You can leave at any time.   You and your mom can talk in private.   If you agree, sign the bottom.”   He held out the pen to Sal’s mother who
looked at him and then down at the form in confusion.
    “She don’t
understand English too good,” Sal said.
    “What does she
understand?” Vic said.
    “Spanish and
Polish.”
    Vic’s eyebrows
raised.   “How does that happen?”
    “My dad’s from
Poland.   She picked it up from him.”
    “You speak
both?”   Vic said.  
    Sal nodded.  
    “Tell her
everything I just said.   If she agrees,
ask her to sign the form.   You can pick
the language.”  
    After a flurry of
conversation between the mother and son, Mrs. Mormo picked up the pen and scribbled
on the form.   Sal took the pen from her
but did not sign.   “What’s this all about?”
    “Sign the form
first,” Vic said.
    Sal had thick
Mick Jagger lips and when he sneered it looked like two rubbery window shades
smacking together.   “What if I want an
attorney to look it over?”
    “Go hire one.   It should only cost a thousand dollars.   You’ve got that, right?   He can come see you in prison.”
    The two of them
stared at one another tensely until Frank