“Was your mother ever diagnosed?”
“Pretty late in her life. But she was in denial. She blamed everything for the difficult life she’d had.”
“How was it difficult?” I asked. “In what way?”
“She’d grown up in Russia. Her family was very poor. They couldn’t feed all the children, so they actually encouraged her to leave. To emigrate here. She met my father, which is the only good thing that ever happened to her.”
“Why do you say that? She had three children, too-that must have been a happy thing.”
Zoya Blunt sneered at me. “My father was a rock. Just a good solid guy, who loved his family, loved his work. Married my mother before she went crazy, he used to say. The kids? Yeah, we made them both happy at first, but I can’t really remember a time that Nik wasn’t a problem.”
“A problem in what way?” Mike asked.
“Hard to know where to start. Nik was a wild child. A daredevil, a fighter. My dad wanted the three of us to go to college. Nik’s really smart. I mean scary smart about some things. He got into a good school on Long Island-but he was drinking and smoking pot-and dropped out the first semester.”
“Did he have an influence on your other brother?” I said, thinking of the middle child.
“You think,” Zoya said, sarcasm dripping from her tongue, “that killing him was a bad influence, Ms. Cooper?”
That answer got Mike’s full attention. “Nik killed your brother? How’s he been this violent but never arrested?”
“If you want to know what broke my mother’s heart, it was the night five years ago when Nik was twenty-four. He got my brother drunk, stoned-whatever it was-then put him behind the wheel on the Long Island Expressway and passed out on the backseat.”
Zoya Blunt paused.
“The car skidded on black ice and was crushed against a tree on the side of the road. My other brother-who was really a sweet kid, like my dad-was killed instantly. Of course, Nik was thrown clear.”
“It’s always that way,” Mike said.
“It’s why I never went to college. My dad had already died of a heart attack a few years before that. My mother cracked up, and I was left to stay home and take care of her.”
“More than any teenager should have to cope with,” I said.
“Yeah. I didn’t do it very well.”
“Nik’s violence,” Mike said, “when did that all surface? Did schizophrenia cause your mother to be violent?”
“Never,” Zoya said. “My mom lost touch with reality. She’d watch television and think that characters on a show were sending messages to her, you know? She had delusions all the time, so she wasn’t able to function outside the house.”
“That’s what trapped you at home with her?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
“Were there ever delusions about politics?” Mike asked.
Zoya looked at him, giving the question some thought. “Actually, yeah, there were. She used to have all these crazy thoughts that were about people she knew back in Russia. That they were trying to make her do things. Nightmares about her childhood there.”
“Was her family persecuted for political beliefs?”
“Depends on who you asked. When my mom started losing it, she claimed that was the case. That we’d all be killed-back in her hometown and here-because of political beliefs, from back when the Soviet Union broke up,” Zoya said. “But my father told me none of that was true. I never knew if he said that just to keep me from being frightened, or because it was a fact.”
“What did he think?”
“What my dad thought, Detective, is that my mother’s family were a bunch of thugs. Gangsters was the word he used. That what they did was smuggle tobacco in from Kyrgyzstan, and not one of them knew the first thing about politics. They weren’t dissidents; they were thugs. And anything else she thought about her relatives was a total delusion.”
“The tobacco trade is really dangerous over there,” Mike said. “Talk to me about NorthStar, Zoya. I know Coop wants your family history, but we’ll work backwards for that after we find Nik.”
“All he ever told me is that it was top secret work,” she said. “Look, Detective, I’m pretty sure that was delusional, too. He tried to get into the army after the car wreck. Tried really hard to enlist, but by then we all knew he was hearing voices. No one would have him. Except this NorthStar operation, whatever it is.”
The detective who had taken over the loudspeaker was ramping things up a notch. “Attention, Metro-North riders. The last trains have left the station. We are closing for emergency repairs. Anyone refusing to leave the concourse will be escorted out by force and arrested for the crime of trespass. Step lively. Find your local bus, hail a taxi, start walking to Fleetwood-it’s only fourteen miles away. This station is closed for business till further notice.”
“You’re doing well, Zoya,” Mike said. “I’m going to see if there’s anything my boss needs for a few minutes. If you can think of anyplace here, somewhere Nik would feel safe and could hide out for the night, that’s our most urgent need at the moment.”
“He can hide out anywhere in this terminal that he wants to, Detective Chapman. Nik has the keys to every room in this building.”
THIRTY-NINE
“Where did he get those?” Mike asked. “How’d he do that?”
“Like I told you, my father worked here for more than thirty years. Look at any of the old-timers and see what the key rings look like, hanging from their belts.”
Don Ledger had made that point to us.
“Over time, the supervisors would give my father access to anything he needed. Elevators to get upstairs, lounges to rest in, emergency backup in case there were problems in the basement.”
“I can understand that,” I said, “but they must have taken them back. You don’t retire with keys to the workplace. Nobody would let that happen.”
“My dad never retired, Ms. Cooper. He had a heart attack on his way home. He got off the subway near our house, complaining of chest pains as he climbed the stairs from the platform. Then he collapsed on the street and died right there.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“A neighbor who was on the train with my father came to the house to get us. Left him with a couple of strangers. Nik ran out and got to Dad first, even before the ambulance arrived.”
Zoya Blunt took a breath and a drink of water.
“We met the ambulance-my mother and I did-at the hospital. Nik rode with his body. After we said good-bye and the paramedics went to give her his belongings, Dad’s wallet was missing. Mom got all up in their faces and accused them of stealing from him. Nobody gave any thought to his keys.”
“But it was Nik?” I said. “At least, that’s what you think?”
“He never admitted to stealing money, but it would be just like him,” Zoya said, wiping a tear away. “A few days later, after the wake and after all the guys from Metro-North had paid their respects, Nik began to wear the key chain on his belt. Out in the open, everywhere he went. Thirty, maybe forty keys on it. I never gave it any thought, to tell you the truth. He idolized my father, and I figured it just made him happy to feel like maybe he’d be following in his footsteps. I didn’t care if the bosses at Grand Central had the damn keys or not. Wouldn’t make any difference to them. Now, I think they were…”
“What?”
“Like trophies, you know? Like a sign that Nik could go anywhere my father had been,” she said. “Only he knew he wasn’t a fraction of the good person Dad was. Nothing like him.”
Yes, Mike and I knew about saving trophies.
“You must know this whole terminal the way Nik does,” Mike said. “Did he have a secret spot? We’ve shut the place down now. The FBI was able to get a photograph of him from NorthStar a few minutes before you got here. The cops will find him if it takes all night.”