The Anomaly(99)

I’d had the same thought, but hadn’t done anything about it. “So?”

“So I dropped them a line. I said the Kincaid Cavern expedition was a bust, sorry, we didn’t find anything.”

“And?”

“Wasn’t expecting anything fast, because I sent it after office hours. But just before midnight I get a reply. From some bloke I’ve never dealt with before. Saying never mind, it happens. But as a result of internal budgeting changes, they are no longer able to sponsor the show.”

“No shit. So what do we do now?”

He shrugged. “I dunno. I’m taking the wife to Palm Springs this weekend. When I get back, you and I should talk. Pretty sure we can scrape together enough for another season on YouTube.”

“But do we even have a team left? How’s Molly?”

“She’s all right,” Ken said. “I saw her again yesterday. She’s still got a thousand-yard-stare thing going on, but a lot less than last time. She’ll be back to the Moll we know and love before long, don’t you worry.”

“I hope so.”

“I know it. With the interpersonal skills for which I do not receive anything like enough credit, I even talked to her about the thing. Asked if she was dealing with it okay.”

“What thing? There’s a lot that could encompass.”

Ken glanced around. Though the courtyard wasn’t crowded—it was midafternoon, and we’d been there awhile, sampling the place’s many craft beers in strictly alphabetical order—he dropped his voice. “The thing involving her and the great big knife, you tool.”

“Oh.”

“I told her that she’d had no choice. That she shouldn’t blame herself.”

“And?”

“She looked me in the eye and said she hadn’t lost a wink of sleep over it. That she’d killed the monster in the dark and that was that. Mean anything to you?”

“Maybe,” I said.

“All right, well, whatever. She’s fine, basically. Or will be. She sends her love—though it looked more like ‘guarded affection’ to me, with a hint of revulsion—and said to tell you that she’s found you a replacement shirt. So, yeah—I’d say she’s still on board.”

“What about Pierre?”

“Talked to him again this morning. He needed minor surgery on that shoulder, and he’s still depressed about his disk drives.”

“They’re definitely screwed?”

“Yeah. His backpack wound up in the river, didn’t it. Plus apparently half of the drives had got flattened at some earlier point, so…Sorry, mate. We’ve got none of it. Not a single frame. Evidence-wise, none of it ever happened.”

“What about Pierre himself?”

“He sounded okay but…quiet.”

“Dylan,” I said. “We did it together.”

“Yeah, and I blew half the head off a…We’ve all of us had a very unusual time. Which, from a legal point of view, it’s preferable no one ever knows about, even if the evidence has been removed, as that guy implied.”

“It’s not just that.”

“I know, mate. I am not immune to guilt. Or nightmares.”

“I’ve been back and forth over it in the last couple days,” I said. “Bottom line is Feather and Dylan drove the play, and it came down to us or them. I’m glad it was us.”

“Very much my take on the situation.”

“Gemma, on the other hand…”

“Ah, well, there’s another thing I need to tell you. She’s different. And her people need to know. So…I did something.”

He looked sheepish. I wasn’t sure I’d seen him look that way before. “What did you do, Ken?”

“Got in touch with the site she worked for.”

“What?”

“I was only going to see if I could get contact information. Maybe try to work from that to finding out about a boyfriend, relatives. Someone I could let know, subtly, somehow. I talked to her editor. All she had was an email address and a PayPal account. So after that I hired a bloke I used a few years ago, when a wanker agent was trying to fuck me over about…Never mind, long story for another time.”

“What kind of bloke?”

“A private investigator. Told him to dig up whatever he could find about her.”

“And?”

“Parents both dead—cancer and a car accident. No brother, sister, other relatives. A few friends, but none of them very close. She was all about her work, one of them said. My guy tracked down her apartment, gained access. Just being thorough.”

“Christ, Ken.”

“I know. But there was nothing to see anyway. Tiny place. Clothes, few bits and pieces, couple pictures of what he assumes were her mum and dad. Only other personal thing was a big poster above her desk. Looked old, like she’d had it awhile.”

“What was it of?”

“The Earth, from space. Some writing across the bottom, in Sharpie. ‘Make a mark—Love, Dad.’”

We sat and looked at each other for a while, knowing that because of us, she would not.



When the next beer was nearly done, Ken glanced at his watch.