Life Blood --XIII---Page 41



In moments I was heading down the snowy drive, south
toward my home (which had been hopefully put back together). I pushed the pace, mesmerized by the snow, and tried to decide what to do next. The thug Ramos had stolen some second-
generation interview footage from me, but now I had a tape of something a lot more interesting.
When I pulled into my street, the time was just past eleven
and I was thinking about calling Lou, or Steve, or both. But then I
saw something odd. A woman was walking down the steps from
the lobby of my building, a woman I recognized from somewhere.
Her hair was tangled and she was wearing black jeans and a
black sweater. It took a second before I finally processed the fact
it was Carly Grove. And she seemed frantic. I assumed she’d
come in a cab, but she had my home phone number, so why
would she come over if I didn't answer? New Yorkers don't just
drop in. A social no-no.
Maybe the reason had something to do with how she looked. I felt like I was seeing a specter.
"Thank God you're here," she blurted out, striding up. She was actually shaking, and I could tell she'd been crying. Nothing like the gutsy woman I'd seen a few days earlier. "I kept getting your machine, but I thought maybe you were hiding."
I looked at her, and forgot all about my own issues. It was hard to remember ever seeing a human being in such distress, except for Sarah.
"Why would I be hiding?" I was taking out the Betacam bag
and closing my car door, hoping to seem normal and professional.
        "They called me about six o'clock tonight. Children of Light."
She could barely get the words out. "They'd seen my interview with you. How did they get it?"
I looked down at the snowy—make that slushy—street and felt
a chill go through me, followed immediately by anger. Ramos, that
bastard.
"They . . . Somebody took a copy this morning." Stated like that, it sounded pretty lame. "I'm so sorry—"





"He threatened Kevin. He actually said if I signed a release to let you use the film, my child would 'meet with an accident.' And then he said something about you, that your own—"
"Who? Who called you? Did he tell you his—?"
"He wouldn't give a name. Just some man. He had a foreign accent." She threw her arms around me, and I hugged her back as best I could.
"Where's Kevin now?" I was so concerned about Carly that I'd
repressed the information that he'd also mentioned me.
        "Marcy was there, so I told her to take him with her. To her
mother's place in the Bronx, where she lives." Carly was still
trembling as she loosened her grip on me. "I called a car service
to drive them up."
"Well, come on in. Let's talk." Truthfully, I wasn't sure how
much I wanted to tell her about what I'd just seen at Quetzal
Manor. It would probably just distress her more. Where had Kevin
come from? Did I really want to de-legitimize him in her eyes?
        As I led her through the lobby, hoping to appear composed,
Patrick Mooney greeted us, announcing that his sister, Rosalyn,
had been gone for an hour and that she appreciated my
memorable tip.
The place looked like nothing had happened, and Carly
immediately collapsed onto my "earth-tone" couch. I hadn't told her my apartment had been tossed along with the robbery and, thanks to Rosalyn, I didn't need to. In fact, it actually looked cleaner than it had in months. Maybe, I thought, I should
reprioritize my life and hire her more often.
Then I got a glass of water for Carly and sat down next to her.
        "I'm really sorry," I began, deeply meaning it. "If I'd known all
 this was going to happen, I'd never—"
"It's not your fault." She took a long drink. I hadn't bothered
with ice, and I immediately felt I'd been inhospitable. Kind of a
vagrant, minor concern, considering. Then she went on. "I guess I knew down deep I shouldn't have given you that interview. But I wanted the world to know about Kevin. Now, though . . . should I call the police or something?"
The short answer to that was yes, but my mind was already skipping on to a different topic.
"Carly, do you know where Kevin came from? Really came from? Did you ever actually try to find out?"
She sighed and took another sip.





"I told you I don't care. When they brought him, all pink and helpless, I just—"
"Who brought him?" I interrupted.
"Well, I'd been up there the day before, signing all the papers. I was supposed to go up that day, but then somebody called and said one of the girls who was staying in the clinic or whatever it is was bringing him to me. So don't come."
"You're saying one of the girls—?"
"Yeah." She looked wistful for a moment, as though re-
membering. "Then she just showed up, looked like some blond college dropout. I guess a little more fanfare would've been nice, but Marcy was there to help me and that was it. That's the last
contact I ever had with Children of Light." She shuddered
involuntarily. "Till now."
Well, I thought, the last thing I'm going to do is tell her about what I just saw. She's the ideal customer for Alex Goddard: She truly doesn't want to know details.
"Carly, there's not much I can do about what's already
happened, but I can try to keep you from getting into any more
trouble. Why don't you call them in the morning and tell them
you've yelled at me and rescinded your permission for Applecore
to use the film? And say I've promised I won't. You've threatened
to sue me or something. That should get you off the hook."
        "You really think so?" Her look brightened slightly.
        "Yes, it's me they're worried about, not you. I represent some
 threat to them, because of the film I'm making. Just bail out and
you'll be okay."
"Thanks. I did get the feeling that's all they really want." She took another drink of water. "But if they wanted to scare me, they're doing a hell of a good job."
"Well, then, why not take Kevin and go away for a couple of
weeks? On a vacation someplace? And while you're doing that,
I'm going to have a one-on-one with Alex Goddard. I've got a little
leverage now."
She looked at me. "What . . . what are you going to do?"
        I couldn't tell her about my videotape of his baby cache
 without explaining a lot more about Children of Light than I thought she wanted to hear.
"Don't you think the less you know the better?" I said, taking
her hand. "I've caused you enough trouble already."
        "No, I caused myself trouble." She was getting up. "Can I use
your bathroom?"

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