CHAPTER 24

There’s an iconic scene in Jaws when Quint first sees the great white shark and harpoons it with a line attached to a yellow flotation barrel. Now he’s confident that if he follows the barrel, it will lead him to the shark.

Kylie and I think a lot like Quint, and as soon as Travis told us that Theo’s idea came from an old man who had a secret life as an assassin, we gave each other a knowing glance.

We had our yellow barrel, and we were going to follow it.

We’ve both seen the movie numerous times, so we know that before it ends the shark sinks Quint’s boat and eats him alive, but still, a lead is a lead.

An hour after we dropped Travis at the airport, we found the film production crew parked on the shoulder of a narrow two-lane highway that wound its way through the desolate woodlands of West Milford, New Jersey.

Theo was expecting us, and as soon as Kylie got out of the car, he headed straight for her. She had told me that as a ten-year-old, he had an adorable little-boy crush on her. Eight years later, he was a physically mature and sexually aware adult, and I could see by the cartoon hearts dancing in his eyes that the crush had developed right along with the rest of him. The adorable little boy gave her an unmistakable manly hug.

“K-Mac!” he exploded. “I flipped out when my dad called. How cool is it to see you again?”

“This is my partner, Zach Jordan,” Kylie said.

Apparently, Theo thought it was cool to see me as well. He gave me an enthusiastic bro handshake.

“I can’t believe it. Two detectives from the NYPD Red squad, and you’re here to talk to me about the Hellman murders?” he said. “I am gobsmacked.”

I smiled. It’s always a treat to meet a teenager who can express enthusiasm without using the word awesome.

“We’re talking to a lot of people about a lot of things,” Kylie said, trying to downplay the reason for our visit. “But first things first. What are you shooting out here in the middle of nowhere?”

“A documentary. Didn’t you ever hear of this place?”

Kylie looked around. We weren’t in a place. We were in the middle of a nine-mile stretch of barren blacktop.

“Not really,” she said.

“It’s legendary,” Theo said, with a hint of disappointment that two cops with such impressive résumés could be so clueless. “Clinton Road is the most haunted highway in America. It’s crawling with ghosts, witches, aliens, phantom trucks—all kinds of paranormal shit. Right over there is Ghost Boy Bridge. You throw a coin into the water at night, and by morning the kid who drowned there will have thrown it back on the road.”

“And you believe that?”

“Doesn’t matter if I believe it. People who live here swear it’s true. They’ve lived it, and I’m getting them on film talking about their weird encounters. Speaking of weird,” he said, anxious to change the subject, “it’s pretty insane about the Hellmans. I mean, I’m sorry those two dudes got whacked, but how dope would it be if it had something to do with the idea I pitched them? Talk about life imitating art!”

“Slow down and back up a few steps,” Kylie said. “I’m bowled over that a student filmmaker got an audience with the Hellmans. How’d you do it?”

“Connections,” he said, gifting her with his most disarming teenage-boy smirk. “You know the biz.”

“Mmm-hmm,” she said melodically, extending him much more tolerance than any other wiseass kid would get. “But seriously, Theo, how does an unknown eighteen-year-old get to pitch to two of the most powerful producers in the industry?”

“My GF, Carly—Carly Driscoll. She’s also my production manager. That’s her over there next to the camera,” he said, pointing at a young woman with a clipboard in her hand. “Her father is an agent. One day I told him my idea. He liked it, and a few weeks later he and his wife were at a black-tie party. They were sitting at the same table as Curtis Hellman, so Mr. Driscoll just threw it out there. Curtis was kind of lukewarm, but Mrs. Hellman said it had legs, and a few days later I was invited to pitch.”

“Mrs. Hellman,” Kylie repeated. “His wife, Brooke, liked the idea?”

“I don’t know her name, but . . .” He shrugged. “I guess older women respond to my style.”

The kid was shameless. Kylie pressed on.

“When did this all happen?” she asked.

“Three months ago—April first, actually. When I got the call, I thought it was an April Fools’ joke, but Mr. Driscoll said it was real. He would have gone to the meeting with me, but he had to fly to London, so I went alone.”

“You didn’t take your dad?”

“Take him? I didn’t even tell him. The whole thing was bizarro. I figured if anything ever came of it, I’d surprise him and say, ‘Hey, Dad, you want to be the head writer on a new show the Hellmans are doing?’ He would say, ‘Yeah,’ and I would say, ‘Cool. You’re hired.’”

“Where did the meeting take place?” Kylie said.

“Their office on West Fifty-Seventh Street. Twenty-third floor.”

“And who did you meet with?” Kylie said.

“Them,” he said, giving her the look we get when people think we’re asking dumb questions. “I met with Warren and Curtis.”

“Who else was there?”

“Just the waiter. But he was in and out.”

“Who?”

“The waiter. It was their private dining room. Talk about weird. They were both eating lunch, plus Warren was staring at his phone. I knew they were only seeing me as a favor to Mr. Driscoll, so I decide fuck it, I’ve got nothing to lose. I give them the backstory—there are five men, all trained to be lethal killers. Twenty years ago, they were working as assassins for the US government. Curtis interrupts me and says, ‘Why the fuck would anyone tune in to watch a bunch of scumbags who kill people for a living?’ So I look straight at him, and I say, ‘That’s what they said to David Chase, but he went ahead and created The Sopranos anyway.’”

“You got balls, kid,” Kylie said.

“Well, it worked. Curtis put down his fork, Warren looked up from his phone, and I said, “I don’t mean to be rude, sir, but why would you think they’re scumbags? They put their lives on the line with every mission, targeting terrorist cells that were planning attacks on American soil. There’s a nobility about the sacrifices they made for their country. They were patriots, unsung heroes, when the government fucked them over and pulled the plug on their unit. They’re in their late forties, early fifties. How are they supposed to support their families, pay their mortgages, send their kids to college? Get a job at Home Depot? No. Killing bad guys is what they know. It’s what they do best. So they go into business for themselves. I think audiences will fucking love them.”

“I’m betting twenty bucks they didn’t tell you to leave,” Kylie said.

“Hell, no. By now they both stopped eating. I don’t know what I said, but I knew I had their attention, so I started telling them about the characters.”

“Theo!” It was Carly.

He waved her over and introduced us. She was cute, blond, and all business.

“Sorry, Officers,” she said, “but we’re ready to shoot, and we need the director on set.”

“A few more minutes?” Kylie asked. “Please?”

Theo turned to Carly. The look in her eyes was unequivocal. No more minutes.

He snapped his head toward me. I gave him a half smile that let him know he was on his own.

“Who’s up first?” he asked Carly.

“The Manchester twins,” she said, not even bothering to look at her clipboard.

“Oh, man,” Theo said, turning back to Kylie. “These ladies are the best—Esther and Hester Manchester. They’re eighty-seven years old. Totally identical twins. Same face, same hair; they even wear the same dresses. But when they talk about all the spooky shit they’ve seen, they argue like crazy. You want to watch the interview? We can pick this stuff up later. Cool?”

I know my partner. She had zero interest in watching a pair of octogenarians squabble about ghoulies, ghosties, and things that go bump in the night. And she certainly didn’t want to pick this stuff up later.

What she wanted to say was, “No, it is definitely not cool. We’re investigating two homicides. Your geriatric twins can just sit tight till we’re done.” But she knew better than to get between our star witness and his girlfriend.

“You’re the director, Theo,” Kylie said sweetly.

And just like that, round one was over. Relentless detective: zero. Kick-ass production manager: one.

Carly flashed a victory smile.

I gave Theo a silent nod. Good call, kid.