Clean Sweep

by E. B. Lee

  Carli remembered. She remembered a lot. Bonaventura fetched plenty of tennis balls and alternated between calm and fully-loaded dog. He used to chase a lot of things, squirrels included, but enjoyed a nice long nap too. Mostly, he looked to participate in whatever was going on. The front porch, where he slept in the photo, was his favorite spot from spring to fall. From several feet above street level, he could keep cool in the shade and oversee all the neighborhood action. Often, Carli’s porch was the center of activity; a place for cards, checkers, and popsicles. During the winter, Tura shifted between the kitchen and living room floors, depending on where people were congregating. Tura was not particularly independent.

  Grant gazed at the photographs another few moments. “I was trying to protect you,” he said very slowly. “I know who you are.”

  Carli took in a short breath and tensed. She lifted her phone from her chair and prepared to hit speed dial.

  “I wish I didn’t have to do it,” he said.

  “Do ... what?” she asked, ready to jump.

  “You know, leave you,” said Grant.

  “What do you mean?” she asked. “You need to leave now?”

  “No, crazy ...” Grant gave an outburst of a laugh. He turned toward Carli and showed a slight smile. “I meant before. In college.”

  “Oh, my God,” whispered Carli. “It is you.”

  “Yes, Tessie. It is.”

  Grant stared at Carli and slowly began to open his arms, inviting a hug. Carli wanted to run right into him but remained still. Tears streamed from her eyes and she couldn’t move a foot forward. All she could do was stare. Henry was finally back.

  “I can’t believe I found you,” she said. “Why did you say you didn’t have a sister?” she asked. “And you didn’t know me? Why did you say I was from the cult and poisoning people? Oh, my God. It’s you, Henry. It really is you.” Carli finally opened her arms and moved forward to embrace him with all the power she had within. “I missed you,” she said. “And I worried enough to last hundreds of lifetimes. Oh, my God, did we ever worry. Where have you been?”

  Grant seemed to be holding in tears, but Carli soon felt several soaking through the shirt covering her shoulder. “I missed you,” he said. “I really did. Mom and Dad too. But I couldn’t go back. And I couldn’t tell you that.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked. “We looked for you. Day after day. Year after year. We needed you. What happened?”

  “I couldn’t lead the Nirvu to your doorstep,” he said.

  Carli stepped back a step, rattled to hear him speak of the cult by name again. “I don’t understand.”

  “You’re shaking,” said Grant. “Are you okay?”

  “I need to sit,” said Carli. “This is a lot to take in. And you knew me ... but didn’t say anything.”

  “I had to make sure.”

  “I can’t believe it’s you,” said Carli. “I mean, I knew it was, when you talked about Tura in the park, but, like I said, I still don’t know why you said you didn’t know me.”

  “I didn’t know you. Not until the Meadow. I was shocked. I don’t understand your name change.”

  “That makes us even,” she said. “Why are you Grant?”

  “I told you, I had to protect you. From them. If they knew I was alive, that Henry was alive, they would have gone straight to Mom, Dad, and you ... with a plan – an ugly plan – to get me back, and then likely kill me,” he said. “Might have killed you three as well.”

  “What? ... Why?”

  “I learned pretty early on that things going down in that group were bad. And I mean bad.”

  “We got the message,” said Carli. “The FBI was investigating them for human trafficking. The Bureau tracked us down.”

  “That’s what I mean. If the Bureau could find you, they could too. It was a creepy group. Not what I signed up for. My friends were there one day and gone the next. I didn’t know what happened to them. That explains it.”

  “They told us it was global,” said Carli.

  “Figures,” said Grant. “They had a lot of different nationalities slipping in and out. Like I said, instinct told me I had to get myself out of there. Fast. I didn’t know exactly why. It wasn’t like I could ask to leave, and they’d just open the door,” said Grant. “No, I had to escape. It was the only way. I left a note. Said I was going off to kill myself because I didn’t feel worthy of the cult. I said no one would ever find my body. Snuck out in the night. It took a couple of weeks to get away. Hiding. Running. Hiding again. I thought they might not care. Might not come looking. I didn’t fit in with them. Thought they might be happy to lose me. But they cared. I heard them, at least five times, out looking.” Grant sat for a moment, as though reflecting on the chase. Carli couldn’t believe he had hidden like a hunted animal. Grant looked up. “I saw them poison two who tried to leave. Gave them tea. Laced with poison. They watched them slowly die. And then they laughed.” Grant quieted and closed his eyes. Finally, he said, “Henry had to die. And he couldn’t ever go home. Couldn’t ever lead them to you. Or Mom. Or Dad.”

  Carli tried to nod, but couldn’t move. As though sensing the severity of the situation, Lila and Terrance placed their heads to the ground between their outstretched paws and stared, wide-eyed, but silent. Carli’s apartment had never felt so still.

  “I can’t ever be Henry again,” said Grant.

  “I get it,” said Carli. “I get it,” she said more quietly. “But it sounded like the Feds got to them,” she finally added.

  “I’m not risking it,” he said. “Not risking it.”

  Carli nodded ever so slightly. Henry was dead.

  “And I’m never calling you Tessie again. If the wrong person hears it, we might both be dead.”

  It was a concession she could make. But his argument seemed riddled with holes.

  “Why’d you change your name?” asked Grant.

  Carli told Grant about TSW Inc. and her previous concerns about the Church Run.

  All Grant said was, “You always were the Chicken Little of the neighborhood.”

  It was exactly what Carli needed to hear. It was also exactly what she expected to hear from Henry. She would have been happy to not say another word, but she ventured into another dark crag. “Speaking of neighborhood,” she said. “Where do you live now? You get out to see everyone so easily that, for a while, I wondered if you were living downstairs here.”

  “That would be the day,” said Grant. “No, this is definitely out of my price zone. I’m over on Lexington Ave., 184. A nice second-floor penthouse. Well, not really a penthouse, of course. But plenty good for me.”

  “Have you been there a while?” she asked.

  “No. Still kind of moving in.”

  “Moving’s a lot of work. Especially here, in the city.”

  “A lot of work anywhere,” he said. “Unless you’re running for your life and leave everything behind.”

  Carli continued to gaze at Grant. He, too, stared back. “I can’t believe I finally found you,” she said. Then, she lightly touched his arm. “How are you doing? You’ve had me worried.”

  “Worried?” he asked. “How so?”

  “You know ... you were drinking during the day. That doesn’t sound healthy.”

  “I’m fine,” he said. “Not to worry. Seems you’ve done enough worrying about me, like you said. I’ll be fine.”

  Carli studied his face. She knew she was looking at another “case.” “I’m here to help. You know that, right?”

  Grant nodded. A resigned smile rose, but he was struggling. “Mercy already talked with me. Gave me the name of a place. I’ll be okay,” he said.

  “There’s something else,” said Carli. “I confided in Mercy. Someone else, too. I told them I had found you.”

  “What? No!” Grant sat upright, fully alert. “Tell them you were wrong. Tell them your brother is dead. And don’t tell anyone else. I’m telling you; that fucking cult is still here somewhere.”


  “Okay,” said Carli. “Okay. It will be all right. I’ll tell them.” She touched his arm again, and said, “I’ll be safe. You will be too.” As Carli’s words sounded across her apartment, she couldn’t help but question herself. She had always been able to trust him. What if they were still looking? For both of them. Being together would make it that much easier for them. But could she have sunk so low as to lose faith in a minister – Pastor Miller? In Mercy, whose every hour was spent helping others? And in Kristen? No, Kristen was a sister.

  Twenty-Two

  Carli went to Lucy’s service alone. Grant never called, never showed. Lucy had been in Elmsville for several months, but the ladies of the town wanted an outside tent gathering. It pushed the formal service into June. Carli missed most of the service, with fears and questions about Grant plaguing her thoughts. In fact, she was close to panic mode. Had he run, she wondered, now that he knew she was his sister? Now that he knew she had talked about him? Would she find him when she returned to the city? And how had she missed it all? First thing upon her return, she would confront him again, in front of Cooper’s Storage, if need be. Now, more than ever, she prayed for strength.

  Carli navigated the first ten minutes of her drive back to the city through a curtain of tears. Leaving Lila and Terrance made her life feel empty. Had it not been for the cheerful sight of early roses on the edge of the roadways, she might have cried longer. But she had other concerns as well. Every so often, she glanced at drivers in nearby cars to see if they were looking her way. Several times, she contemplated the cult as she checked her rearview mirror. Finally, she told herself to pull herself together. That didn’t stop her from veering off the highway at a different exit than usual to head to Grant’s apartment. She needed to know he was safe and still in town after his no-show.

  Grant’s building was a somewhat older building, with a few exterior cosmetic updates. She was surprised to see a doorman sitting behind a counter.

  “I’m here to see Grant ... uh, Grant on the second floor.” Carli suddenly realized she didn’t know her brother’s last name.

  “On the second floor?” asked the man.

  “Yes.”

  “Had a man named Grant there for a while. But he’s gone now,” said the man.

  “Gone?” Carli’s voice filled with fear.

  “That’s right.”

  “Did he just leave? This morning?” asked Carli.

  “No, no. The owner rents it out as a week to week. I think Grant was here for a week. Maybe two. Sometime back. Now, it’s someone else. Nice couple. Came in a little while ago, maybe a week or so. They’re here ’til the end of the month, I think.”

  “He’s not here anymore? Grant, I mean?” asked Carli.

  “No ma’am.”

  Carli called Kristin on her way home and found her friend waiting outside her building when she arrived.

  “How was it?” asked Kristin.

  “You don’t want to know. But I’m telling you everything, like always. We have a lot of catching up to do. Come on in. I’ll tell you when we get in my apartment.”

  Carli and Kristin rode the elevator in silence. As soon as Carli opened her door, Carli’s tears rolled down her cheeks. “I need a dog,” she said. “Two dogs. You won’t believe what’s gone on here.”

  Kristin listened to news of Grant and of Lucy’s memorial. Together, they searched for weekly apartment rentals and found the second-floor unit listed as a short-term rental, exactly as the doorman had said.

  “Why do you think he told me that?”

  “Why do you think?” asked Kristin.

  “Right,” said Carli, thinking of Grant’s storage room. “Right. But he did actually rent it. For a week or two.”

  “So, what are you going to do?” asked Kristin.

  Carli lifted her head out of her hands and said, “First, I’m going to cry with my friend and have a glass of wine. At least, I found him, and he’s alive. But right now, I almost wish I weren’t.”

  “How was it?” Grant asked, meeting Carli at St. Mary’s.

  “Final goodbyes are never easy,” she said. Grant looked marginally better than the day he dumped his tray in front of the lunch crowd. “It’s the right place for her,” she continued. “And for Lila and Terrance.”

  Grant barely nodded.

  “I met Lucy’s doctor,” she said. “He did what he could.”

  “With her diabetes, you mean?”

  “Yes. Lucy did the rest.”

  “Like all of them.”

  “Nobody likes a faulty body,” she started, giving Grant a fiery stare. She nearly reopened the doctor issue, but stopped.

  “Why didn’t you come with me?” she asked.

  “Overslept,” said Grant.

  “Overslept? Have you been making visits?”

  Grant gave a fairly lifeless shake of his head. “I gave myself a vacation. Call it a long weekend.”

  “Grant, you don’t look so good. You really should see a doctor.”

  “No. Drop it. I’m fine.” His voice was defensive.

  “Grant, I mean it.”

  “I’ll check them tonight.”

  Carli watched Grant leave the church, presumably to settle into bed, since it didn’t look like he could do much else. Then she made another trip to Four Bridges.

  “He needs help,” said Carli.

  “That place where I got you the appointment does well with things like this – drugs, disorders, or both,” said Mercy. “You know it’s a private place and keeps everything anonymous. Do you think he’ll go?”

  “He wouldn’t consider it when I brought it up. He snapped at me and shut down.”

  “Most don’t want to hear it,” said Mercy. “No, they don’t see it in themselves. Or just don’t want to. They usually either go the denial route or the super-sensitive, don’t-talk-to-me-about-it route. But Grant, he’s seen so much of it ...”

  “He didn’t go to Lucy’s service either. Didn’t call. Nothing. But I just saw him at St. Mary’s, and he said he gave himself a vacation. I’m worried it’s related to his visit with me.” said Carli.

  “On account of his learning you’re his sister, you mean?”

  “Right.” After Grant’s cult admonition, Carli felt uneasy speaking about her relationship to Grant.

  “Maybe. Maybe not. It’s not totally surprising he skipped out,” said Mercy. “He probably figures he did what he could. I doubt he felt any reason to dwell on something he couldn’t change. Maybe he’s already done his grieving. He hasn’t been by here for a while, either.” Mercy paused. “You’ve got my cell; in case you need me. Or just plain want me,” she said. “Same difference. Day or night.”

  “When he does stop in here, remember he doesn’t want you, or anyone, knowing I’m his sister,” said Carli.

  “I’ll remember. When he stops in, or if he happens to return my calls, it sounds like the first thing I’ll be doing is presenting him with the Avenue Partners option again,” said Mercy. “In the meantime, you keep taking care of yourself. Yes, indeed. Number One is you.” Mercy’s face sparkled, with the lipstick du jour, a deep, earthy maroon, making a particularly vocal statement. It matched her dress, of course.

  Carli took her sketchpad to the piers on an impulse. She looked at Lady Liberty, but she soon found herself sketching the piers instead. Maybe she would add them to her show. The waves sounded like silly laughter, causing her to pause. She sat a long while, listening to the foolhardy water, suddenly flooded with memories of her youthful Henry. In turn, she considered the others. Who were they once? Before they were here. How had they all been lost? How had Henry been lost? She wanted to fill in the pieces. Carli looked forward to her afternoon visit with Dr. Greenberg. She had much to discuss.

  After she visited Dr. Greenberg, Carli knew, more clearly than ever, that Grant needed to make an appointment. Such an odd thought for two kids from her middle-class family. Two days later, she raised the subject again.

  “If I go
to the doctor, will you call off the dogs?” asked Grant.

  “Yes.”

  “Fine then.” As far as Grant was concerned, no help was needed, but he agreed to let Carli make the appointment. Then, Grant skipped out on his appointment and vanished the entire week after. When Carli finally reached him, he seemed to sense he should give it a try. Carli helped schedule another appointment.

  When appointment day arrived, Carli made sure to walk Grant to Avenue Partners. Approaching the building, he suddenly put his hand on Carli’s shoulder and said, “Hey, I feel fine. Let’s go to the park instead.”

  Without a word, she pressed the call buzzer and escorted him inside. Damned if he wasn’t right; going to the park sounded more fun. Carli left Grant and spent the next hours trying to think of anything else but him. She had told the doctor everything she knew. She had described the piers, alcohol, and bouts of withdrawal and mania. All Carli could do now was wait and pray, a hostage to circumstance. Then it dawned on her. Again. The antidote. She ran to Avenue Partners, hoping to arrive in time.

  She caught up with Grant seemingly seconds after he emerged onto the sidewalk. As expected, he seemed distracted by internal thought. No doubt he had come face to face with some difficult notions. It took a long, quiet minute before he was able to push himself out of his closed steel shell.

  “She gave me this booklet to fill out,” he said.

  “I got one too. When I went in,” said Carli. “Background information. It helps.”

  “Maybe she could just use yours. Don’t want to spend my life answering questions.”

  “Do what you can.” She offered to help, knowing simple paperwork might seem insurmountable if Grant were clinically depressed.

  “I have to get blood tests too,” he said. “This all seems pretty worthless.”

  “She wouldn’t order them without reason,” said Carli. “An easy answer would be nice, rather than a bunch of tests and appointments. But it will take time. She’s already been a big help to me.”