John Locke - A Girl Like You

She says, “You’ve had no eyebrows since you’ve been here.”

“ Creed! ” Sam shouts.

“You think this Creed character forced a snake to bite your nuts, then snuck into your hospital room and shaved off your eyebrows?” Brightside says.

“No. I think he shaved them off after the snake bit me. While I was lying on the floor, helpless.”

Caruso frowns. “What kind of twisted fuck would do that?”

“The kind who’d let them amputate my leg to get what he wants.”

“And what’s that?” Brightside says.

“Rachel.”

“What, he’s after your wife?”

“He’s her boyfriend. They’ve been having an affair for years.”

“And someone kidnapped her? When?”

“He said Tuesday morning. Around the time the doctor died.”

“What doctor?”

Sam shakes his head, trying to clear it. “Forget the doctor. A branch of the government sent a squad to kidnap Rachel. Creed’s trying to find her. He came to me for help.”

“What can you do?”

“I can logically deduce answers to hypothetical questions based on random bits of data.”

Caruso says, “Give me a for instance.”

“You want a for instance? Fine. I can tell you’re not married.”

“What, because I don’t wear a ring?”

“No. Because you’re uglier than shit.”

“Asshole.”

Brightside says, “What’s the question Creed wants answered?”

Sam says, “Why would the government kidnap a woman and kill her doctor because of the results of her blood test?”

“So the doctor was killed?”

“I don’t know.”

“You said he was dead. Was he killed?”

“Creed thinks so.”

Brightside nods. “We can check it out.”

No one says anything for a minute. Then Brightside says, “Do you know?”

“What?”

“The answer to Creed’s question.”

Sam nods.

“What is it?”

At my desk, I lean forward.

22.

“Get rid of the camera,” Sam says.

“What camera?” Brightside says.

“The one Creed’s monitoring us on.”

“You think he snuck in here and put cameras in your room?”

“I know he did.”

“When?”

“Before I got here.”

Brightside frowns. “How would he know which room you’d get?”

“How the fuck do I know? He just does this shit. He can do anything. Trust me, he’s watching us right now. You hear that, Creed? I’m onto you! ” Sam shouts.

Brightside says, “That’s crazy.”

But Gene Caruso doesn’t think so. He’s looking around the room.

I’m not concerned. These are pinhole cameras, state of the art. They perfectly match the background. You’d have to know exactly what you’re looking for and where to look.

Caruso picks up the chair from the corner and drags it to the far wall that faces the foot of Sam’s bed.

“Sir—” the nurse says.

Caruso dismisses her with a wave of his hand. He climbs on the chair and stares straight into the camera.

“Nothing here,” he says.

Then he pulls off his shoe and smashes the camera.

“ Sir! ” the nurse shouts.

My screen goes dead. Good thing I’ve got another one. The nurse presses the call button.

“What’s that all about?” Brightside says.

“Son of a bitch was right. Pinhole camera. Smallest one I ever saw. Smaller than Sam’s dick, even.”

“Funny,” Sam says. “There’s got to be at least three more. Check every wall.”

The nurse’s station answers the page. Sam’s nurse says, “The detectives need to leave. Please call security.”

To the detectives, the nurse says, “I suggest you both leave. Immediately.”

“We’re conducting an investigation,” Brightside says.

Caruso is busy checking the second wall.

“Nothing here,” he says.

Brightside says, “Sam. Do you know where your wife is? Yes or no?”

I can’t see Sam’s face. But I hear him say, “No.”

“So you don’t know if she’s been kidnapped at all.”

“I believe him. About this.”

“You say this happened on Tuesday? That’s four days ago. Why wasn’t it reported?”

“Rachel lives in seclusion with a lady named Nadine Crouch. She’s a psychiatrist. When they kidnapped Rachel, they tried to kill Nadine. She’s been in the hospital ever since. She was the only one who could’ve reported the kidnapping. And she was in a coma until yesterday. When she woke up, she called Creed.”

“Why would she call him instead of you?”

“Because he’s the one who employs her.”

Nothing on the third wall,” Caruso says, which leaves the wall where my remaining camera is located. Caruso slides the chair over, and stands on it. He’s about ten feet from my camera. He steps off the chair and slides it three feet closer. Then stands on it and carefully inspects the wall.

“What’s the answer to the question?” Brightside says.

Caruso moves his chair to the edge of the bed. He has to stand almost three feet from the wall, because of the bed table. From that angle there’s no way he can see my camera.

“I found it!” he yells.

He removes his shoe.

Two men from hospital security burst through the door. “Sir!” one of them says. “Step down!”

Gene Caruso puts his left hand against the wall to steady himself. His shoe is in his right hand. All I can see on my monitor is the bottom of his shoe as he’s about to smack the camera.

“What’s the answer?” Brightside says.

“Sir, stand down! ” the guard says to Caruso.

Caruso ignores him. He winds up, ready to smash the camera.

Sam says, “Break the camera and I’ll tell you.”

Caruso’s shoe smashes into the wall, bursting the camera.

But not the sound system. That’s working fine. I hear Sam laughing. He calls me a prick.

Brightside and Caruso are talking to the nurse and guards. They’re showing credentials. After a couple of minutes of discussion, the guards decide they don’t have the power to throw the detectives out, because they’re investigating a kidnapping, and Sam corroborates that fact.

Sam says, “If I tell you, you’ve got to promise not to talk to Creed.”

“Why would we do that?” Brightside says.

“He’ll get it out of you. But you can’t tell him. You’ve got to tell your superiors. Promise me.”

“Promise you what?” Brightside says.

“Promise you’ll call your superiors from this room, before you leave.”

“Fine.”

“Say it.”

“I promise.”

“Caruso,” Sam says, “guard the door. Creed will probably burst in here any second. I’ll tell you guys, and no one else.”

I don’t know if the nurse is still there or not. But Sam speaks.

“Spanish Flu, 1918,” he says.

“What about it?” Brightside says.

“Don’t you see? She’s got the gene!”

“What gene?”

“Call your superiors. Tell them what I just said.”

“I’m not sure what I’m supposed to tell them.”

“Hurry! Before Creed gets here! He’ll kill us all! Call your superiors! Tell them Rachel Case’s blood contains the gene that can cure the Spanish Flu!”

“Of 1918?” Brightside says. “Sam. Do you know what year this is?”

“Call them, you moron! Call them now! You promised.”

I hear Brightside sigh. “Fine,” he says. “I’ll call them.”

23.

My phone rings.

Brightside says, “Sir, Rachel Case is—”

“I heard,” I say. “I’m on my way.”

I walk a hundred yards to the Sensory Resources hospital room where Sam has been staying since the snake bite. When I walk through the door, Sam says, “Fuck you all.”

“What’s all this about the Spanish Flu?” I say.

Sam looks defeated. “Fuck you,” he says, though he says it with very little emotion. I can see he’s starting to shut down, mentally.

“Come on, Sam. Rachel’s in trouble. Talk to me.”

“You bastard! They cut off my leg! ”

“You’re making such a fuss about it. A word to the wise, Sam. No one likes a whiner.”

“Oh, like you wouldn’t complain?” Sam says. He grabs the sheet, throws it off of him. He wants me to see that his leg ends at the knee.

“Sam, your leg is fine.”

“What?”

“That’s not your leg.”

Sam looks down at the heavily-bandaged stump.

“Not my leg? Are you insane?”

He stares at Brightside. His head is moving very slightly, from side to side. He’s thinking of something. Or replaying something in his mind. Finally he says, “You gave me a clue.”

Brightside stands there quietly.

“Your father,” Sam says.

“What about him?”

“First time we met. You said they named the hospital after him.”

“So?”

Sam laughs a derisive laugh. “You dumb fuck. You don’t even know.”

“Know what?” Brightside says.

“The script Creed gave you. You didn’t even get it. That’s why I didn’t pick up on it.”

“What’re you talking about?”

“The script called for you to say your father’s name was Robin Brightside.”

“So?”

“So you’re Robin’s son. And he’s Caruso. Robinson Caruso.” Sam shakes his head. “And I got snake bit on Friday, no less. I’m a moron.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” I say. “You were bitten by a water moccasin, after all.”

“Twice.”

“No, just once. On the ass.”

Sam gestures to his stump.

I nod to Caruso. He holds the hand mirror away from the bed, so Sam can see how his leg is hanging down under it.

“They never cut your leg off,” I say.

I rip the bandages off the end of his knee, where he thought his leg ended.

“There’s a hole in your bed. I had them numb the bottom half of your leg. It’s propped on a foot stool beneath your bed. Your leg is fine. You just can’t feel it. Now help me find Rachel.”

Sam is so relieved he doesn’t know what to do. But what he says is, “How do I know that’s my leg? Maybe it’s my leg, but it’s not attached. You could’ve done anything to me.”

“We could’ve avoided all this if you’d cooperated with me in the first place.”

“You went to this much trouble?” Sam said.

“Rachel means the world to me.”

“Who was the girl?”

“What girl?”

“The one who looked like Rachel. The one who came in my room.”

“You must have dreamt that part.”

“Get Dr. Drake. He’ll tell me the truth.”

“There is no Drake. He had to leave. He’s performing On the Waterfront tonight at the little theater.”

Caruso yells, “Stella! Stella!”

Sam says, “Where am I?”

“I can’t disclose that.”

“Give me a hint.”

“When we put you under, it will require a plane flight to get you back to Louisville.”

“How long a flight?”

“Don’t even think I would tell you that.”

“No problem. I’ll just look up every town in America that has a little theater and narrow it down by the shows they’re putting on.”

“Sounds like a great project.”

Sam looks at me. “You lied about the little theater.”

“It was a figure of speech. I just meant he was an actor.”

“Is he here or not?”

“Not.”

Sam says, “Fine. I give up. Go save Rachel, if you can. You’ll probably die trying, and I’m fine with that.”

“On the other hand, if I fail, you’ll never see her again.”

“She doesn’t want to see me anyway.”