Тесс Герритсен - I Know a Secret

“Do you folks actually make a living as filmmakers?” she asked.

“A living?” Travis shrugged, as if the question were irrelevant. “We make movies, and that’s the point. We’re living the dream.”

“Using money from Cassandra’s father.”

“It’s not a gift. He’s investing in his daughter’s career. This movie could put her on the map as a filmmaker, and the story meant a lot to her personally.”

Jane glanced down at the script lying on the desk. “ Mr. Simian ?”

“Don’t be fooled by the title, or the fact it’s a horror flick. This is a serious project about a girl who goes missing. It’s based on a true event from her childhood and it’s gonna find a way bigger audience than our first film.”

“Would that first movie be I See You ?” said Frost.

Travis shot a surprised look at Frost. “You saw it?”

“We saw the poster for it. The one hanging in Cassandra’s apartment.”

“Is that...” Amber swallowed. “Is that where you found her?”

“It’s where her father found her.”

Amber shuddered and hugged herself, as if suddenly chilled. “How did it happen?” she murmured. “Did someone break in?”

Jane didn’t answer the question but asked one of her own: “Where have you all been in the last twenty-four hours?”

The three filmmakers exchanged glances to gauge who should speak first.

Travis answered, his words measured and deliberate. “We’ve been right here, in this building. All three of us. All night and all day.”

The other two nodded in agreement.

“Look, I know why you’re asking us these questions, Detective,” said Travis. “It’s your job to ask them. But we’ve known Cassie since we were all students at NYU. When you make a movie together, it’s this — this incredible bonding experience like nothing else. We eat and sleep and work together. Yeah, we argue sometimes, but then we make up, because we’re family .” He pointed at the computer screen, where the image of the killer was still freeze-framed. “We were gonna break out with this film. Prove to the world that we don’t need to kiss some studio executive’s ass to make a great movie.”

“Can you tell us what your various roles were in making Mr. Simian ?” asked Frost, dutifully jotting everything down in his tattered notebook.

“I’m the director,” said Travis.

“I’m DP,” said Benjamin. “Also known as the cinematographer.”

“Producer,” said Amber. “I hire and fire, do payroll, keep it all running like a well-oiled machine.” She paused and said with a sigh, “Actually, I do pretty much everything.”

“And what was Cassandra’s role?”

“She wrote the script. And she’s executive producer, which you could say is the most important job of all,” said Travis. “Financing the production.”

“With her father’s money.”

“Yeah, but we just need a little more. One more check, that’s all she was going to ask him for.”

A check that they would probably never see.

Amber sank onto the sofa next to Ben, and all three of them sat in silence. The room itself seemed to smell of stale food and failure.

Jane looked up at the movie poster hanging on the wall behind the sofa. It was the same poster that she’d seen in Cassandra’s apartment. I See You . “That movie,” she said, pointing to the image of the monstrous red eye peering from the blackness. “Tell me about it.”

“It was our first feature film,” said Travis. He added morosely, “And I hope it’s not our last.”

“Did all four of you work on it?”

“Yeah. It started as our film school project at NYU. We learned a lot, making that one.” He gave a rueful shake of the head. “We also made a lot of mistakes.”

“How’d it do in theaters?” asked Frost.

The silence was painful. And telling.

“We never got a distribution deal,” Travis admitted.

“So no one saw it?”

“Oh, it was shown at quite a few horror-film festivals. Like this one.” Travis displayed the SCREAMFEST FILM FESTIVAL T-shirt he was wearing under his hoodie. “It’s also available on DVD and video on demand. In fact, we hear it’s become something of a cult classic, which is, like, the best thing that can happen to a horror flick.”

“Did it make any money?” asked Jane.

“That’s really not the point.”

“So the point would be?”

“We now have fans . People who know about our work! In the indie-film business, sometimes all it takes is word of mouth to build the audience for your next project.”

“So it didn’t make money.”

Travis sighed and looked down at the filthy carpet. “No,” he admitted.

Jane’s gaze lifted back to the monstrous eye in the movie poster. “What happens in that movie? What’s it about?”

“It’s about a girl who witnesses a murder, but the police can’t find any body or evidence, so they don’t believe her. That’s because the murder hasn’t happened yet. She’s telepathically linked to the killer, and she can see what he’s about to do.”

Jane and Frost glanced at each other. Too bad we don’t have that advantage. We’d solve this case in no time flat.

“And I’m guessing the killer eventually comes after her,” Jane said.

“Of course,” said Ben. “That’s, like, straight out of Horror 101. Eventually, the killer must come after the heroine.”

“Does anyone in that movie get mutilated?”

“Well, yeah. Again, it’s one of those rules of horror films. Straight out of—”

“Yeah, yeah. Horror 101. What sort of mutilations?”

“A few fingers get chopped off. A girl gets the number 666 carved into her forehead.”

“Don’t forget the ear,” reminded Amber.

“Oh, yeah. One guy gets his ear sliced off, like van Gogh.”

You people are sick .

“What about the eyes?” said Frost. “Do any of the characters get their eyes cut out?”

The filmmakers looked at one another.

“No,” said Travis. “Why are you asking about eyes?”

“Because of the title. The movie’s called I See You .”

“But you asked specifically about eyes getting cut out. Why? Did something like that happen to...” Travis paused, horror suddenly registering on his face.

Amber pressed her hand to her mouth. “Oh, God. Did that happen to Cassandra ?”

Jane didn’t answer but moved on to another question. “How many people saw that movie?” Again, she pointed to the poster.

For a moment, no one spoke. They were still stunned by what they’d just learned. In their world, all the blood was fake and the limbs were rubber props, mere cartoon violence. Welcome to my world. The real world.

“How many?” Jane asked again.

“We don’t really know,” admitted Travis. “We did sell some DVDs. Made about a thousand bucks from video downloads. Plus, we showed it at those film festivals.”

“Give me an estimate.”

“Maybe a few thousand people saw it. But we have no idea who they are. The horror audience is worldwide, so they could be living anywhere.”

“You don’t think she was killed by someone who saw our movie ?” said Amber. “I mean, that’s crazy! Horror fans may look scary, but they’re actually really nice and well-adjusted people.” She pointed to the computer screen, where the killer’s silhouette was still frozen. “Movies like Mr. Simian, they’re all about helping us process fear, about working through our inner aggressions. They’re therapeutic.” She shook her head. “The nasties don’t watch horror films.”

“You know what the real assholes watch?” said Ben. “Romantic comedies.”