Moonlight Mile Part 28

I nodded.

"And he was explicit."

"Couldn't have been clearer-give them the cross and a a baby, and they forget all about you." baby, and they forget all about you."

She'd pulled into herself, her knees up to her chest, bare feet clutching the couch cus.h.i.+on. Pulling the hair off her face should have made her features sharper and less vulnerable, but it managed to have the opposite effect. She looked like a child again. A petrified child.

"Did you believe him?"

I said, "I believe he believed it. Whether he can float it past Kirill and his wife, that's another issue."

"This all started because Kirill saw a picture of Sophie. That's one of the"-she looked down the couch-"services Dre provides, the pictures. Kirill and Violeta saw Sophie, and I guess she looked like Violeta's younger sister or something and, from that point, they wanted Sophie's baby, no one else's."

"So it might be more complicated than Yefim lets on."

"It's always more complicated," she said. "How old are you you?"

I gave that a small smile.

Amanda looked down the couch at Dre, who sat there like a dog waiting for her to say "park" or "supper."

"Even if he could supply another baby, wouldn't we be doing the same thing-giving a child over to two psychopaths?"

I nodded.

"Can you live with that?"

I said, "I came here to find you and get Sophie out of their hands. That's as far as I've thought."

"How nice for you."

"Hey, Amanda? People who live in gla.s.s houses with kidnapped babies shouldn't throw stones."

"I know, it's just that it sounds so much like the kind of logic that sent me back to Helene twelve years ago."

"I'm not playing this record right now. You want to hash all that s.h.i.+t out at some quieter time, I'll be your Huckleberry. But right now we need to get them this Belarus Cross and, if possible, convince them we'll get them another baby."

"And if we can't?"

"Get them another baby?"

She nodded.

"I don't have a clue, but I do know the cross will buy us time. It's supposed to be on display in Kirill's house by Sat.u.r.day night. If it's not there, I have no doubt they'll kill all of us, my family included. We get it to them, though, it'll buy us another couple of days on the baby issue."

Angie's eyes had widened and she glared at me.

"Sounds good to me," Dre said.

"I'm sure it does," Amanda said. She turned back to me. "What if they renege? All Yefim has to do is figure out where I am, and there's not too many places for me to hide. You found us in one morning. What's to stop him from getting the cross and then coming right up the road for the baby?"

"His word that he wouldn't is all I got to go on."

"And you'd take it-the word of an a.s.sa.s.sin who goes all the way back to the Solntsevskaya Bratva in Moscow?"

"I don't even know what that is," I said.

"A gang," she said, "a brotherhood. Think the Crips or the Bloods with military discipline and connections going all the way to the top of the Russian oil conglomerates."

"Oh."

"Yeah. That's where Yefim got his start. And you'll take his word?"

"No," I said. "I won't. But what's our alternative?"

After a couple of tentative yelps, the baby started crying full-force. We could hear her on the monitor and we could hear her through the door. Amanda slid off the couch and slipped on her flats. She took the monitor with her into the bedroom.

Dre took another drink from his flask. "f.u.c.k-ing Russians."

"Why don't you slow down?" I said.

"You were right." He took another drink. "Earlier."

"About what?"

He ground the back of his head into the couch, his eyes rolling back toward the bedroom door. "Her. She doesn't like me very much, I don't think."

"Why's she with you, then?" Angie asked.

He exhaled up toward his own eyes. "Even Amanda, cool as she is, needs help with a newborn. Those first couple weeks? You're going to the supermarket every five minutes-diapers, formula, more diapers, more formula. The kid's up every ninety minutes, wailing. Ain't much in the way of sleep or freedom."

"You're saying she needed a gofer."

He nodded. "But she's got the hang of it now." He let loose a soft and bitter chuckle. "I thought when we first met, you know, here's my shot-an innocent girl, untouched, uncorrupted, of blazing blazing intelligence. I mean, she can quote Shaw, she can quote Stephen Hawking, she's so cool she can quote intelligence. I mean, she can quote Shaw, she can quote Stephen Hawking, she's so cool she can quote Young Frankenstein, Young Frankenstein, get into a debate with you on quantum physics and the lyrics to 'Monkey Man' on the same night. She likes Rimbaud and Axl Rose, Lucinda Williams and-" get into a debate with you on quantum physics and the lyrics to 'Monkey Man' on the same night. She likes Rimbaud and Axl Rose, Lucinda Williams and-"

"This going to go on for a while?" Angie said.

"Huh?"

I said, "It sounds like you thought you could mold Amanda into your very own Nexus 6 model of every chick who dumped on you in high school."

"No, it wasn't like that."

"It was exactly like that. This version wouldn't take a s.h.i.+t on you, she'd adore you. And you could sit up all night and give her your rap about Sigur Ros or the metaphorical significance of the rabbit in Donnie Darko Donnie Darko. And she'd just bat her eyes and ask where you'd been all her life."

He looked down at his lap. "Hey, f.u.c.k you," he whispered.

"Fair enough."

I could see the child I'd found after seven months, playing on a porch not far from here with an openhearted woman who'd adored her, and a bulldog named Larry. If I'd left her there, who would she be now? Maybe she'd be a basket case who remembered just enough of her life before she'd been s.n.a.t.c.hed from a neglectful mother to know that her life here with Jack and Patricia Doyle was a lie. Or maybe she'd have very little memory of her time with a white-trash alcoholic in a three-decker apartment in Dorchester that smelled of carpet funk and Newports, so little that she'd live a well-adjusted life in small-town America and all she'd know of ident.i.ty theft and credit card fraud and Russian killers from the Solntsevskaya Bratva would be things she picked up watching 60 Minutes 60 Minutes. Even if Amanda had never been kidnapped in the first place, with Helene for a mother, her chances of growing up a healthy, well-adjusted child were somewhere in the neighborhood of a hundred million to one. So the kidnapping had, in some demented way, exposed her to the knowledge that another way of life existed. One that wasn't her mother's life of fast food and full ashtrays. Of collection notices and ex-con boyfriends. After she'd glimpsed the world of this tiny mountain town, she'd decided to will her way back to it. And maybe, from that point on, will became her defining character trait.

"They won't just let this go," Dre said, "no matter what Yefim told you."

"Why not?"

"For starters?" he said. "Somebody's got to pay for Timur."

"Who's Timur?" Angie asked, coming over to the couch.

"He was a Russian."

"Yeah? What happened to him?"

"We kinda killed him."

Chapter Twenty-One.

So you kinda killed a Russian named Timur to get the Belarus Cross."

"No," he said.

"No you didn't kill him?"

"Well, yes, but we didn't do it to get the Belarus Cross. We didn't know s.h.i.+t about the Belarus Cross until we opened the suitcase."

"What suitcase?" Angie sat on the edge of the couch.

"The one handcuffed to Timur's wrist."

I narrowed my eyes. "Whatchoo talkin' 'bout, Willis?"

Dre considered his flask but returned it to his pocket. He played with a key chain instead, swinging the keys absently around a hard plastic fob, which encased a picture of Claire. "You heard of Zippo?"

"Sophie's boyfriend," Angie said.

"Yeah. Notice how no one's seen him around in a while?"

"It did come to our attention."

He lay back on the couch like he was in a shrink's office. He dangled the key chain above his head so that the picture of Claire swung back and forth over his face, the shadow pa.s.sing over his nose. "There's an old movie memorabilia warehouse in Brighton, right along the Ma.s.s Pike. You go in there, you'd see an entire floor devoted to posters, half of them oversize European ones. Second floor is props and costumes; you want the NYU philosophy degree that Swayze had on his wall in Roadhouse, Roadhouse, they got it there, not in L.A. Russians got all sorts of weird s.h.i.+t there-Sharon Stone's chaps from they got it there, not in L.A. Russians got all sorts of weird s.h.i.+t there-Sharon Stone's chaps from The Quick and the Dead, The Quick and the Dead, one of Harry's fur suits from one of Harry's fur suits from Harry and the Hendersons Harry and the Hendersons. They also have a third floor no one goes to, because that's where the delivery and postdelivery rooms are." He wiggled his fingers. "I'm a doctor, lest we forget, and these babies can't be doc.u.mented at a hospital. The moment they enter the system, they're traceable. So we deliver them at a movie memorabilia warehouse in Brighton and they're usually on a plane out of town three days later. Some special cases, they're out the door as soon as the cord is cut."

"Which was the case with Claire." Angie leaned forward, chin on her hand.

He held up one finger. "Which was supposed to supposed to be be the case with Claire. But it wasn't just me and Sophie in the delivery room. Amanda was there and so was Zippo. I'd advised strongly against it. It was going to be hard enough to give the baby up without actually seeing her be born. But Amanda overruled me, as Amanda is wont to do. And we were all in there when Sophie gave birth." He sighed. "It was an incredible birth. So smooth. Sometimes it goes that way with young mothers. Normally it doesn't, but sometimes ..." He shrugged. "This was one of those times. So we're all standing there, pa.s.sing this baby around, laughing, crying, hugging-I actually hugged Zippo, though I couldn't stand the kid in real life-and the door opens and there's Timur standing there. Timur was a giant, a bald, big-eared, face-only-a-blind-mother-could-love Chern.o.byl baby. You think I'm kidding but, no, he was literally born in Chern.o.byl in the mid-eighties. A mutant freak, Timur. And a drunk and a crank addict. All the positives. He comes through the door for the pickup. He's early, he's f.u.c.ked up, and he's got a suitcase cuffed to his wrist." the case with Claire. But it wasn't just me and Sophie in the delivery room. Amanda was there and so was Zippo. I'd advised strongly against it. It was going to be hard enough to give the baby up without actually seeing her be born. But Amanda overruled me, as Amanda is wont to do. And we were all in there when Sophie gave birth." He sighed. "It was an incredible birth. So smooth. Sometimes it goes that way with young mothers. Normally it doesn't, but sometimes ..." He shrugged. "This was one of those times. So we're all standing there, pa.s.sing this baby around, laughing, crying, hugging-I actually hugged Zippo, though I couldn't stand the kid in real life-and the door opens and there's Timur standing there. Timur was a giant, a bald, big-eared, face-only-a-blind-mother-could-love Chern.o.byl baby. You think I'm kidding but, no, he was literally born in Chern.o.byl in the mid-eighties. A mutant freak, Timur. And a drunk and a crank addict. All the positives. He comes through the door for the pickup. He's early, he's f.u.c.ked up, and he's got a suitcase cuffed to his wrist."

I started seeing it now-five people walk into a room, two die, but four walk out. "So he's not taking no for an answer."

"Not taking 'no'?" Dre sat up and put the key chain in his jeans. "Timur crashes into the room, says, 'I take baby,' and goes to cut the umbilical cord. I swear to Christ-I never saw anything like it. He grabs the surgical shears, starts coming toward me with them, I'm holding the baby, we've all just been laughing and hugging and crying and here's this Chern.o.byl mutant coming at me with surgical shears. He's got them open and he's heading right for the umbilical cord, one eye closed 'cause he's so f.u.c.ked up he's seeing double, and that's when Zippo jumps on his back and cuts his throat with the scalpel. I mean, just opens it from one side to the other." He covered his face in both hands for a moment. "It was the worst f.u.c.king thing I ever saw and I did my ER interns.h.i.+p in Gary, Indiana."

I hadn't heard anything from the back bedroom in a while. I stood.

Dre didn't even notice. "Here's the best part. Timur the Chern.o.byl Mutant? Even with his throat cut, he flips Zippo off his back and as soon as Zippo hits the ground, Timur shoots him three times in the chest."

I stood by the bedroom door, listening.

"So now we've got this freak of nature with a cut throat pointing a gun at us, and we're all going to die, right? But then his eyes roll back to whites and he drops toward the floor and he's already gone by the time he lands."

I knocked softly on the bedroom door.

"We don't know what to do at first, but then we realize no matter what happens, they'll probably kill us. Kirill loved Timur. Treated him like his favorite dog. Which, when you think of it, he was."

I knocked softly again. I tried the door. It was open. I pushed it inward and looked in at an empty bedroom. No baby. No Amanda.

I looked back at Dre. He didn't seem surprised. "She gone?"

"Yeah," I said. "She's gone."

"She does that a lot," he said to Angie.

We stood out back, looking at a small yard and a strip of gravel that ran along the edge of the yard in a downward slope and ended at a thin dirt alley. Across the alley was another yard, much bigger, and a white Victorian with green trim.

"So, you had another car back here," I said.

"You're the private investigators. Aren't you supposed to check for stuff like that?" He took a snort of the clean mountain air. "It's a stick."

"Huh?"

"Amanda's car. A little Honda thing. She just dropped the emergency brake and rolled to the alley, took a right." He pointed. "She made the road in about ten seconds from there, would be my guess, and then she turned the engine over, popped it into first." He whistled through his lower teeth. "And a-way she went."

"Nice," I said.

"She does it a lot, like I said. She's half-jackrabbit. Anything bothers her, she just leaves. She'll be back."

"What if she doesn't come back?" I said.

He plopped down on the couch again. "Where's she going to go?"

"She's the Teenage Great Impostor. She can go anywhere."

He held up an index finger. "Correct. But she doesn't. This whole time on the run, I'm like you-I've been advocating foreign countries, islands. Amanda won't go for it. This is where she was happy once, this is where she wants to stay."