City Dark(20)

Instead of answering, Robbie jogged toward the edge of the traffic circle overlooking the path and the river. As Joe hustled to catch up, a big Chrysler approached, bathing them in light. The windows were open, and a long-haired man in the passenger’s seat leered at Joe, his eyes huge and crazy. The driver leaned forward, his face glowing green in the dash lights, screaming something profane. They broke into laughter and sped away. A cloud of exhaust stung Joe’s nostrils. Darkness reenveloped them.

“Robbie, wait! I can’t see!”

“Over here!” Robbie was standing at the concrete barrier that formed the edge of the traffic circle. To their left was a pathway that led down to the park, swallowed in blackness. In the distance were yellow and orange circles of light, bouncing lightly in the gloom. “The boats are right over there.”

“We can’t walk down there,” Joe said, shifting his eyes to the path. Robbie looked over and smirked.

“Scared? Nervous is why there’s new Soft ’n’ Dri.”

“Shut up.”

“She’s not down there anyways. She’d be back by now.”

“Maybe she needs help.” Joe stared at the boats, the forms of which he could make out now. They didn’t look like a happy collection of welcoming vessels, though. More like secret little tombs guarded by torchlight. Through the gloom he could hear clanking chains and the low squeak of twisting metal.

“She’s gone someplace else,” Robbie said. “We can’t sit out here waiting for someone to grab us. We need to go where people are.”

“We can find a cop, maybe,” Joe said. He had seen something like that on an episode of Baretta, a show he might have been watching a rerun of that very moment at home if he wasn’t stuck in this nightmare. “A cop could help us find her.”

“A cop? How?”

“You know, they’ll put us in a cop car, and we can drive around until we see her!”

“Cops are gonna be too busy for that.” Robbie injected authority into his voice. He was doing his best to distance his tone from Joe’s animated, hopeful one, something that Joe felt but could not articulate. Maybe it made Robbie feel better, like the strong older brother, but it made Joe feel like a baby. “Best we can do is hope the lights come back on. If things settle down, maybe we’ll look for a cop. Come on.”

He pointed through the traffic circle and east, to where there were headlight beams and red taillights sliding in and out of view every few seconds. But they looked tiny and woefully far away, on the other side of what seemed like an impenetrably dark space, a black field before the hulking shapes of buildings. That space, neither of them yet knew, was Riverside Park.





CHAPTER 18


Monday, July 17, 2017

Kings County District Attorney’s Office, Sex Crimes Unit

Brooklyn

2:15 p.m.

“That song,” Joe said, when Mimi asked if everything was okay. The two had exchanged pleasantries and small talk about Joe’s work in the Bronx DA’s office years back. Len was also present; they were getting started in Mimi’s office when Joe trailed off. Mimi and Len exchanged glances as Joe fell silent.

“The song?” Mimi asked. She listened closer. Outside her office door sat one of the administrative staff members, an older woman named Helena. She played an easy-listening station through her computer most of the day. It was a sound that Mimi rarely noticed after a few minutes each morning, but now she could hear it, tinny and distant. The song was “Looks Like We Made It,” by Barry Manilow.

“It was big that week,” Joe said. “The week of the blackout. July 1977.” He was clad in a simple dark suit and tie, and typical of a trial lawyer, he seemed both unemotional and comfortable in a DA’s office. But now his brow was knitted, and his eyes darkened. “Wow. I swear, I really didn’t think I’d react to any of this.”

“Let us know if you need a moment,” Mimi said.

“Nah, I’m fine, thanks.” He sighed. “It was just a strange feeling all of a sudden. That song was big that summer. Do you know it?”

“My mother is a huge fan,” Mimi said with a grin. “Of course I know it. I was fifteen the year of the ’77 blackout.”

“My brother was also,” Joe said. “I was ten.”

“It was a weekday, right?” she asked. “We were out of school, but I think I remember that.”

“It was a Wednesday, yeah,” Joe said, as if relating a dream. “It was the last time I saw my mother. July 13.” His eyes met Mimi’s, and she found them profoundly deep. He was composed, but the eyes were like windows to a shrouded interior. “It was hotter than hell that day. Then it stormed like you wouldn’t believe. Then the lights went out. We were on the West Side Highway, going south.”

“We?”

“My brother, my mother, and me. We were going to Arizona. It seemed like another planet. You remember that show Alice?” Mimi smiled. Len looked at him blankly. “It was a movie too. Anyway, she figured she could move us out there over the summer, get a job, and start us in school somewhere. She needed money, though. So the plan was to stop at my uncle Mike’s place. He was a bachelor. Truth is, he was gay, but no one talked about that then. We were going to stop there for a few days, my mother was going to soak the poor guy for whatever money she could get, and then we were going to head off to Phoenix. But the lights went out.”