"If the blue meanies are going to get me they'd better get off their asses and do something."
- The Zodiac Killer
FOUR
I HAD GONE BERSERK and yelled at Frank, told him that they were all sick to think that I would want to utter any words to this Banshee person. Frank had calmly told me that my reaction was normal. I had wanted to slap him. Then Frank had given me a day to think about it and walked me to my accommodation. The room that he had showed me was unbelievably big. Government funded, obviously.
It had a King-sized bed, beautiful work desks and side tables, a kitchen area with a fridge full of condiments, a bathroom with bath tub, a shower and a toilet that looked more expensive than my own apartment. It was too good to be true. Perhaps they were doing all this to apologise for my future discomfort.
My phone buzzed the familiar tune for Hey Ya by OutKast. "Hello?"
Diana's cheery voice hollered in my ear. "Don't hello me, stupid. Were you seriously not going to call me?" She said in between crunches, she was eating something and I already knew it was Cheerios. I had lived with my sister for long enough to know what she was eating at certain times.
"Hey, Diana." I glanced at the wall clock above my table. 11pm. "Jesus, I didn't even realise how late it was. I swear I was gonna call. How are you?"
There was a pause, and then another crunch. "How am I? That's beside the point. I want you to tell me everything. How was it? Did you get the job? Where on earth are you staying? Was it all some stupid prank? Give me the details, woman!"
"I'd rather be shot in the head than relay the events of today." I groaned, moving from the work desk to the kitchen. I grabbed a blood red apple. "But I know you'd do worse than shooting me if I didn't tell you so I'll try."
"That bad?" She offered, sounding sympathetic.
I nodded even as she couldn't see me. "Yeah. You wouldn't believe it but I am living a few miles away from Belladonna and Baby Blue. No, not their graves, they're fucking alive. That's not all, I was pretty much asked to interview the Devil." I paused for emphasis. "And the Prisoner Project? It's not a fucking joke."
There was silence at the end of the line. And then there was crash, as if glass had met hardwood, and then a high pitched - "Holy shit, I just spilt my entire bowl of cereal!" I heard a chair scrape and then she was back on the phone. "OK. Damn, you need to tell me everything because I went deaf at some point between Belladonna, the Devil and alive."
"I'm serious. Belladonna and Baby Blue are at this prison. A lot of others too. I literally saw her. It was terrifying." I put the phone at the croon of my neck and searched for a knife. "Alright. So picture this. I walk into the prison and the guards at the gate ask me of I'm here for the job. I nod and they begin doing lots of security scans on me. They say it's to ensure my details are on the system if I do get the job." I grab the knife and slice into the apple. "At this point, I have a mini heart attack because I realise that this is not a joke and I'll probably have to do something really crazy for the amount of money in the job description."
Diana hm-ed. "Fast forward to the good bits, Aria."
"There are no good bits." I do air quotes, tossing the knife in the sink when I'm done. "I know crazy, we've both been through so much for me to know exactly what crazy comprises of but this was straight out of a horror novel."
"Ted Dekker or Stephen King kind of horror?"
I sighed. "Serious, Diana. Please, take this seriously."
"Sorry, I'm listening."
I waved away her apology and scrubbed a clean hand across my face in exasperation. "I signed an NDA and I don't know if this room is tapped so I can't tell you anything. I'll try my best to tell you what I can though."
Diana groaned dramatically. "Sure. I'll live."
"OK. The Prisoner I was asked to interview is named Nicholas Dementia, infamously known as Banshee. He terrifies me so much and I haven't even met him yet." I admitted, leaning against the marbled kitchen counter.
"Interesting. His name sounds just like the mental disorder." She mused.
I shrugged. "It's spelt the same way too. A quick summary of my job is basically to interview him, befriend him almost, as a way to milk out the reason why he committed the crimes that he did."
"Wow. That sounds weird as hell." I heard tapping of keys. After a few seconds, Diana came back to the phone. "Just typed his name into Google and there are no results. Who the hell is he?"
I sighed, feeling like throwing up again. I tossed the half eaten apple into sink with the knife. "Don't bother. He's not on the Internet, or anywhere, really. He's confidential."
"Then tell me about him."
And I do.
I tell her how serious the Prisoner Project is, I tell her everything about it and what it stands for. Then I talk about Banshee without being specific, I tell her that his crimes are gruesome, and because I want her to have a glimpse of his horror, I tell her tales of the images I saw and the details of his gruesome murders. I told her the kinds of people that were kept in the Correction Centre and I projected my fear onto her in order to put her one inch into my shoes.
It was only at the end that I had realised hat I probably broke the NDA. I smacked my forehead.
Diana replied with silence, and then worry.
"God, Aria. That's fucked up. I didn't think that was what you had to do. I didn't even think the job was real. I half expected you to come knocking at the door with a rejection letter." She rushed through her words. I could hear the concern in her voice. "Are you OK? Like really okay?"
I breathed out slowly. "I'm fine. The Super Intendant, Frank, told me I could have a few days to think about it. I'm probably not even going to get the job now that I've broken the NDA entirely."
"Gosh! I just realised. Aria, you talk too much."
"Fuck, I know." I sighed. My brain was buzzing with a lot of thoughts and I was in too many places at once.
"Overthinking is bad for you." Diana muttered, as if she knew exactly what was going on in my head.
I rolled my eyes. "I know. That's why I'm glad you called. I'm really freaking out, I don't know if I'm cut out for this job you know? I'm freaking the fuck out. The Prisoner Project is a real thing and it's big."
"I'd freak out too, Aria, and I'm the most messed up person ever. But despite that, I believe in you. I really do." Diana reassured me. She sounded like she was being honest and it somewhat comforted me.
"I need to believe in myself."
She hummed an agreement. "I want to feel bad for you but I'm seeing dollar signs behind all the crazy things you have to do. If you really don't want to do it, let me. We look the same." I heard her voice soften. "We really are desperate."
I understood her concern. I and Diana might have been prodigy children when we were younger but that didn't change the fact that circumstances beyond our control had fucked up our lives. There was one reason for our desperation. Him.
I nodded. "No, you can't. I'm pretty sure it's an illegal offence."
"Excuses, excuses..." She tutted, trailing off.
She wasn't taking this seriously. Even if she were, she wasn't seeing the risks that I was seeing. "Banshee could kill me."
I could almost hear her eye roll. "Don't be ridiculous. They won't let him kill you. He could manipulate you into killing yourself though, that's my biggest worry."
Sarcasm dripped from my tone. "Thanks a lot." Diana might have been my identical twin but our differences were heavy. Physically we we were the same yet mentally, we were independent beings.
"You're smarter than that, I'm sure you'll be fine. You take some days off and think about it. OK? Do your research and ask lots of questions, you're always been good at talking too much." She joked.
I didn't feel any better. "I'll think about it."
She became serious. "Now I'm going to be real with you now, Aria. I spent so much money on that ticket to get you to SCCTD, almost a hundred pounds. We need this, we're struggling and we don't deserve it. Please, think about it hard."
She was telling me to think about it but all I heard was you better fucking do it.
"I will, I promise."
"Anyways, enough about that. Where are you?"
I looked around the spacious apartment and smiled because that was the one good thing that had come out of this so far. "My room. I live in an accommodation outside the prison camp, and it's beautiful. They clearly spent a lot of money on this place."
Diana whistled when I described the apartment, "Lucky girl, you're living large. I wish I was you right now. I'm stuck here and I've got work at the pub by 9am."
"You also have Dante."
Dante was the boy she was involved with, she'd been talking to him through letters for almost a month now and she had become so invested in him that it was comical. They were long distance, and had never met. They only sent each other letters, rather than call or phone each other, because it was more romantic that way apparently.
I didn't know much about him than what she had told me from his letters. His favourite colour was blue, and he cherished his privacy. I had seen one picture of him. Green eyes, clean teeth, short cropped hair and a smile that was filled with so much charm that I cringed away from it. He was attractive but not my type. His face was distinctive. It looked weird.
She squealed on hearing his name. "Oh god yes, I forgot to write back to him! Send me pictures of the room and the prion and everything so I can live vicariously through you! Also do you mind if I show them to Dante? I'm writing a really long letter this time. God, I can't wait to see him. He says soon."
Within their letters, they sent each other pictures, pictures of anything that made them feel closer than the miles they had between each other.
"He's been saying soon for one month." My finger hovered the end call button. "And I don't mind."
"Spoilsport. Don't forget what I said, we need this. Think about it hard and don't come back home without a huge pay check. I love you, bye."
____
Talking to Diana hadn't really made me feel better. If anything, it just reminded me how much I needed this job. Whether or not I wanted to do this, it was out of my hands. I called Frank, remembering that he had put it in my phone for emergency reasons.
"Ms Black? Is there a problem? Should I send someone over?" He answered, on the first ring.
"No, No! I'm sorry, I just called to ask if I could see you." There was a silence on the other end and I realised how compromising that sounded. Jeez. "To talk about the job, obviously."
"Oh, I mean, yes, sure." He cleared his throat. "Do I come over or should we meet at the cafe near your place? It's the only one we have around here and it's a two minute walk from you. They make a mean coffee."
I chuckled. "It's 11pm. Isn't that too late for coffee? Besides, I'm more of a tea girl."
There was an amusement in his his voice. "I heard their teas are bestsellers too."
Thirty minutes later, I was sat with a cup of milk drained tea and a peanut butter cookie at one of the most beautiful cafes I had seen in a while. Frank ordered a single black coffee and sat across me, mid speech. He made up for last time I had seen him in casual clothes. He looked professional. A pressed black suit jacket lay on the head of his seat, his shirt sleeves were rolled up to his forearms and his tie was loose around his neck.
"- and I don't like to blow my own horn but even though the Project might seem terrible now, it's absolutely brilliant if you think about it."
"Brilliant?" I nibbled at my cookie. "I apologise but I don't really see how anything I'm doing is brilliant."
"OK, Look at it this way. Offenders are often wary of the police force because they appear threatening to them. They have the power to oppress and retain them so they're less likely to trust them. But using someone like you to get at the truth would be brilliant because you're harmless. They're more likely to spill their guts. They might even do it as a twisted way to impress you."
"Someone spell fucked up. Excuse my cuss." I bit into the cookie again. "But wouldn't they know that I was sent to them by the same police force though?"
"True - but you're walking in there naked as the day you were born." He flushed on realising his words but doesn't acknowledge. "You're not going to be tapped and if you agree to this, the contract will be very specific, we'd need your word. It's very important for you to be honest. Because we'll be trusting your word."
"Why won't you record the conversations?! That's ridiculous."
"It's because of you. To keep your information out of it. You do know that you might say somethings that are most private to you to Banshee? Things you don't want us to hear."
"Why the fuck would I do that?" I paused. "Shit -Sorry, excuse my cuss."
Frank waved it away, unaffected. "Banshee has a way of getting into your head. Besides, it's an anything to get at the truth type of situation isn't it? You'll have to connect with him somehow and if it means saying incriminating shit to do it, go ahead. And I trust you to keep your head from getting fucked by him."
"Ugh. God. OK, hypothetically speaking, if I am with a microphone or some recording device because I know I'm not about to befriend a serial killer, what's the big deal?"
"Some of the prisoners have given ultimatums about what they want in order to take part in this project. Things like; I'll do whatever you want if you don't record anything. That kind."
"Did Banshee give any specifics?"
Frank looked away, his eyes turning up to the sky. He seemed disturbed by the question. "Yes. He was very weirdly specific but we ignored some of his requests."
The way he had said it made my stomach churn unpleasantly. "Don't tell me, it'll make sick. But...does he know about me?"
To my surprise, Frank seemed relieved at not telling me what Banshee had requested for. It was weird but I looked past it. "No. He just knows you're female. You get to introduce yourself to him however you like."
My breath came out in a rush. "Damn."
"It's alright, Aria. It's a lot to take in."
I need the money, money, money. I looked up, picking up my napkin. "I think I'll survive."
"Really?" He looked disbelieving.
My eyes narrowed. "Have a little faith in me, Mr Trellis."
"Frank. Call me Frank. And Aria, it might seem like I'm warning you off because I am. The Project doesn't have a 100% success rate which is why we give all our participants diplomatic immunity. I've watched people lose their minds slowly, succumb to the charms of villains like these and I don't want the same to happen to you."
"How? You said it was your first year working at this project."
He chuckled with no trace of humour. "Well, I worked with the police force for a few years. You see things that change you forever."
Eager to take a break from the me-talk, I asked. "Why'd you leave?"
He froze for a few. He took a small sip of his coffee and shook his head instead of responding. "The point is, I want you to be fully aware of what you're getting into with this project."
I got the hint. "It must be pretty intense for you to care this much."
"I guess. I mean, you're the youngest they've had and I just-"
"You think I'm more likely to fail because I'm young?" I frowned. I knew my age would have an effect on this job. Was Frank spending this much time on me because I was young? Were the other women who had been given the job spending this much time on making their decision? Was I the most problematic?
"No." Frank deadpanned. "I think you're more likely to fail because the prisoner would see that you're young and beautiful, and would just love to use you to their full advantage."
I hid my blush behind a long sip of my tea. "I can handle."
"I know you can." When I remained silent, Frank decided to change the subject to more simpler topics. "So, your boyfriend doesn't mind you camping out next to Hell for two weeks?"
If I was going to be working with and talking to Frank everyday for weeks, then I might as well become friends with him. I chuckled, shaking my head. "Nope, he doesn't mind. Because he doesn't exist."
He had the decency to blush. "Interesting." He leaned back. "Do you like your room?"
I hm-ed. "It's very big, and it's such a luxury. I like it, but it's just something I'm not quite used to. You've snooped in my files and records, you know how my life really is."
His face turned serious. "I didn't pay attention to that, it's none of my business."
Grateful, I nodded. "And you're right about that. Diana loves it too, I took some pictures for her, is that OK?"
"I'm pretty sure it's fine. Who's Diana?"
An unwanted grin graced my face. No matter how much she annoyed me, I loved her. "My sister. I have a twin. She loves taking pictures for her letters. She writes to her boyfriend. I'll never understand why people do that."
Frank smiled. "Wow, I've never met a twin in real life." I rose a brow at that but he pointed out, blocking me out. "Letter writing can be therapeutic, you know. Many of the prisoners at SCCTD have a anonymous pen pals."
I was genuinely shocked. "What? Why?"
"It's a way to blow off steam." He shrugged, impassive to my shock.
I scowled. "Why do they need to blow off steam? Isn't it better for them to let the guilt eat them up?"
"They'd run mad. It's a prison, not an asylum. Most of them haven't had human contact in more that ten years. Not from the staff, not even from their own reflections in the mirror.."
Oh. That sounded horrid. "Jesus."
"Exactly, so we give them outlets to communicate, it's the least we could do for someone who deserves nothing." He said, pushing his empty cup away.
"That's interesting, how do you monitor the letters then?"
"What they write in the letters is frankly, none of our business, but we do scan it for weapons, contraband, poison, so it's always safe."
"How do you know they're not planning-"
Frank looked smug, cutting me off. "There is no way a prisoner could escape from SCCTD. It's impossible. The letters are harmless, we selected them from a random generator of names out of a certain age group. If we do notice any suspicious activity, we could cut them off from their pen pals immediately."
"But what if they write things that are bad, that could drive their pen pals to do things that are...Bad?"
"We have our ways, Aria. How did we get back to talking about the job again?" He said, a stray smile on his face. Frank was attractive, I could give him that. His eyes had a hue to them that made him look like he was always amused. Even when deathly serious, his brows would furrow but his eyes would spark.
I managed a smile. "I'm sorry, I get carried away and talk too much." I peeked at the clock. It was nearing 1am. "Oh gosh, it's late. I have to be going soon."
He nodded, in understanding. "Alright. So..what do you say to the job?"
What did I want to say? No. What did I need to say? Yes. Either way, it would've come down to this and I would eventually have to take it up. After all, I could always drop out. "I want the job. I've said this before but I'm serious now. I do."
Frank nodded as if already knowing I would say yes. "Good. That's amazing. Tomorrow, you meet Banshee. You'd sit in the interview room with him for no more than five minutes and gauge the experience, if it is too much for you, we give you cut of the pay for one day and I wave you goodbye. And if you want to stay, then you're absolutely welcome and I'm here whenever you need me."
I took a deep breath.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Repeat.
"OK. I'm ready."
"I'll email the contract to your confidential email. It is monitored. Sign it by 9am tomorrow and you have the job. Congratulations, Aria. Welcome to the Prisoner Project Team."
___
[a/n: Almost 300 reads in just a few days, woah! Please, vote + comment if you're reading to let me know!] OK. Let me just clarify. We're 4 chapters in, don't make assumptions already. This is a mystery book after all ❤