Page 36 of NYPD Red 7: The Murder Sorority

“He is. Everyone at the Grove loves him.”

“What’s the Grove?” Kylie asked.

“Golden Grove. It’s a nursing home. Theo worked there for his senior year community service project.”

“Doing what?”

“Arts and crafts, playing cards with the old folks, helping them with their smartphones, but mostly he’d do the one thing they seem to need the most: just sit quietly and listen to their stories. That’s how he came up with the idea for the TV show.”

“What do you mean?”

“One of the residents is pretty far into dementia, and he loves to go on and on about his secret life as an assassin.”

CHAPTER 24

There’s an iconic sceneinJawswhen 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 narrowtwo-lanehighway 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 aten-year-old, he had an adorablelittle-boycrush 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 wordawesome.

“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 aplace. We were in the middle of anine-milestretch 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 ifIbelieve it. People who live here swear it’s true. They’velivedit, 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 disarmingteenage-boysmirk. “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 unknowneighteen-year-oldget 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 ablack-tieparty. 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.”

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