There was empty space. 'Anything else?' Myron asked.
'There's been a lot of marrow drives,' she said.
'I know.'
'One donor looks like a match for an AML patient in Maryland. A young mother. She would have probably died if it weren't for these drives.'
'Good news,' Myron said.
'But no matches for Jeremy.'
'Yeah.'
'Myron?'
'What?'
'I don't think we have much time here.'
Terese returned to Atlanta later that day. Win invited Esperanza to his place for a night of mindless television. The three of them sat in their customary spots. Fritos and Indian takeout were on the night's menu. Myron had the remote. He paused when he saw a familiar image on CNN. A basketball superstar simply known as 'TC,' one of the NBAs most controversial players and a teammate of Greg's, was on Larry King Live. His hair was razor-carved to spell out Jeremy, and both gold earrings had Jeremy's name on them. He wore a ripped T-shirt that simply read HELP OR JEREMY DIES. Myron smiled. TC was something else, but he'd get the people out in droves.
More flipping. Stan Gibbs was on some talking-head show on MSNBC. Nothing new. The only thing the press loves as much as tearing somebody down is a story of redemption. Bruce Taylor had gotten the exclusive, as promised, and he'd set the tone. The public was mixed on what Stan had done, but for the most part, they sympathized with him. In the end, Stan had risked his own life to catch a killer, saved Jeremy Downing from certain death, and been wrongly accused by a too-eager-to-convict media. The fact that Stan had been confused about turning in his own father played for him, especially since the media was anxious to wipe away the awful mar of plagiarism they'd so quickly tattooed on him. Stan got his column back. Rumor had it his show was coming back too but in a better time slot. Myron wasn't sure what to think. Stan was no hero to him. But so few people were.
Stan, too, was pounding the bone-marrow-drive drum. 'This boy needs our help,' he said directly into the camera. 'Please come down. We'll be here all night.'
A blond talking head asked Stan about his own part in this drama, about tackling his father, about racing to the cabin. Stan played the modesty card. Wise. The man knew the media.
'Boring,' Esperanza said.
'Agreed,' Win said.
'Isn't there a
Myron suddenly stopped.
'Myron?' Win said.
He did not reply.
'Hello, world.' Esperanza snapped her fingers in Myron's face. 'There's a song that we're singing. Come on, get happy.'
Myron switched off the television. He looked at Win, then at Esperanza. 'Say one last good-bye to the boy.'
Esperanza and Win exchanged a glance.
'You were right, Win.'
'About what?'
'Human nature,' Myron said.
Chapter 40
Myron called Kimberly Green at her office. She answered the line and said, 'Green.' 'I need a favor,' Myron said.
'Shit, I thought you were out of my life.'
'But never your fantasies. You want to help me or not?'
'Not.'
'I need two things.'
'Not. I said 'not.''
'Eric Ford said that the supposedly plagiarized novel was sent directly to you.'
'So?'
'Who sent it?'
'You heard him, Myron. It was sent anonymously.'
'You have no idea.'
'None.'
'Where is it now?'
'The book?'
'Yes.'
'In an evidence locker.'
'Ever do anything with it?'
'Like what?'
Myron waited.
'Myron?'
'I knew you guys were holding something back,' he said.
'Listen to me a second—'
'The author of that novel. It was Edwin Gibbs. He wrote it under a pseudonym after his wife died. It makes perfect sense now. You were searching for him right from the get-go. You knew, dammit. You knew the whole time.'
'We suspected,' she said. 'We didn't know.'
'All that crap about thinking he was Stan's first victim—'
'It wasn't total crap. We knew it was one of them. We just didn't know which one. We couldn't find Edwin Gibbs until you told us about the Waterbury address. By the time we got there, he was already on his way to kidnap Jeremy Downing. Maybe if you had been more forthcoming—'
'You guys lied to me.'
'We didn't lie. We just didn't tell you everything.'
'Jesus, you ever listen to yourself?'
'We owed you nothing here, Myron. You weren't a federal agent on this. You were just a pain in the ass.'
'A pain in the ass who helped you solve the case.'
'And for that I thank you.'
Myron's thoughts entered the maze, turned left, turned right, circled back.
'Why doesn't the press know about Gibbs being the author?' Myron asked.
'They will. Ford wants all his ducks in a row first. Then he'll hold yet another big press conference and present it as something new.'
'He could do that today,' Myron said.
'He could.'
'But then the story dies down. Right now the rumors keep it going. Ford gets more time in the limelight.'
'He's a politician at heart,' she said. 'So what?'
Myron took another few turns, hit a few more walls, kept feeling for the way out. 'Forget it,' he said.
'Good. Can I go now?'
'First I need you to call the national bone marrow registry.'
'Why?'
