The archived story offered no picture of the Smithson family. No further links to indicate that there was a follow-up story on them.
Another family, dead like the Merteuils in Belgium, the Petersens in South Africa, and the Rendons in New Zealand. But not dead. Vanished. Unless this Washington Smithson was now the Smithson selling insurance in South Dakota or the Smithson teaching Shakespeare in Pomona.
What had Gabriel said during their wild car ride out of Houston? I’ll tell you who I am. Then I’ll tell you who you are. Evan thought he was crazy. Maybe he wasn’t.
He stared at the name of the vanished child. Robert Smithson. It meant nothing to him.
He jumped to a phone-directory Web site and entered the name Bernita Briggs, searching in Virginia, Maryland, and D.C. It spat back a phone number in Alexandria. Did he risk the call on the hot cell phone? Bricklayer would know, no doubt accessing the call log. No. Better to wait. It might put her in danger if Bricklayer knew he was calling her.
He wrote down Bernita Briggs’s phone number. He left, conscious of the barista’s eyes on him. Wondering if this was paranoia, settling into his skin and bones, taking up permanent residence in his mind, changing who he was forever.
21
T he house stood on the edge of the Montrose arts district, on a street of older homes, most tidy with pride, others worn and neglected. Evan drove by Shadey’s stepbrother’s house twice, then parked two streets over and walked, the duffel over his shoulder. The cap and shades made him feel like a bandit waiting outside a bank. A FOR SALE sign stood in the overgrown yard, a full sleeve of brochures awaiting curious hands. Every drape in the house lay closed, and he imagined the police waiting, or Jargo handing a suitcase full of cash to Shadey, or Bricklayer and government thugs smiling at him behind the lace. He remembered interviewing Shadey’s stepbrother, Lawan, here for Ounce of Trouble; Lawan was a smart, kind guy, quiet where Shadey was loud, ten years older. Lawan managed a bakery and his house always smelled of cinnamon and bread.
Evan waited at the street corner, four houses down.
Shadey was ten minutes late. He came alone, walked up to the front door, not looking at Evan. Evan followed a minute later, opening the front door, not waiting to knock. The inside of the house smelled now of dust instead of spices and flour. No one was living here.
‘Where’s Lawan?’ Evan asked.
Shadey stood at the window, peering out to see if anyone had followed Evan. ‘Dead. Two months ago. The AIDS caught up with him.’
‘I’m really sorry. I wish you had called me.’
Shadey shrugged. ‘When was the last time you called me, just to see how I was?’
‘I’m still sorry.’
‘You don’t have to be. Back to biz, son.’
Evan waited.
‘I scrounged up green for you. But you get caught, you keep my name out of it.’
‘Why are you so mad at me?’
Shadey lit a cigarette. ‘Why you think I’m mad?’
‘On CNN. You acted like I’d ripped you off. I didn’t make a lot of money on the movie, Shadey. I’m not Spielberg. I didn’t promise you a career in entertainment, I couldn’t make that promise.’
‘Being in your movie, you gave me a taste of a better life, Evan, better than what I had here. Better than what I could have gotten when I dealt.’ He watched Evan through the smoke. ‘You know, once Ounce came out, I wanted to make a movie. Tried writing a script. Took classes. Couldn’t stitch two scenes together. No head for it.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me? I would have helped you with your script.’
‘Would you? I think you were one busy white boy after Ounce hit big. You get into your work, you don’t pay so much attention to people. You’re right, I had my freedom because of Ounce. But you had your career because I said yes to letting you film my story. That’s a debt you can’t repay, either.’
‘Shadey. I’m sorry. I had no idea. I do owe you. Thank you. I’m sorry if I never said it before.’
Shadey offered his hand; Evan shook it. ‘The whole damn world boils down to you owing another fool something. So it don’t matter. Because now we’re even. If I was mad – well, you limited my career options.’
‘I don’t understand.’
Shadey leaned forward in the quiet of the house. ‘I was still dealing dope on occasion, Evan. Yeah, that fucker Henderson framed me, he planted the coke in my car. But I had kilos of coke riding in the trunk not three days before. A shitload more of it.’
Evan stared.
‘You really thought I was innocent, pure as the driven snow.’ Shadey shook his head. ‘Evan, I was driving the snow.’ He laughed at his own joke. ‘But you do your movie, I can’t deal no more. My face is too well known, and I’m Mr. Innocent Wronged by the Police. You get me interested in movies, but I don’t got a goddamned clue how to make ’em. So I’m a security guard. That’s about all you left me. Certain times freedom is just painting yourself into a new corner you can’t get out of.’
‘I’m sorry, Shadey.’
‘Don’t worry about it no more.’ Shadey handed Evan the case. Evan sat it on the floor and opened it. Cash, a few hundred, all in worn tens and twenties.
‘Count it, it’s about a thousand. All I can spare.’
‘I don’t need to count it. Thank you.’
‘Lawan had a laptop computer; you can have it.’
‘Thank you, Shadey. Thanks a lot.’ Evan blew out a sigh to hide the quaver in his voice. ‘I knew I could trust you. I knew you wouldn’t let me down.’
‘Evan. Listen to yourself. You think I never saw the pity in your face, that I never heard that tone of voice that let me know you were doing me a life-changing favor? You ain’t as smart as you want to be, Evan. Now you’re the one brought low. Now you’re the one needing the handout. Now you’re the one that looks like dog shit to scrape off the bottom of a shoe.’
‘I never pitied you.’
‘You didn’t believe I could stand on my own two feet to get out of jail.’
‘You couldn’t.’
‘The way the wheel of fortune spun, you landed on my doorstep, you helped me. But I want you to wake up and see the world how it is, because you don’t know what it is to be in trouble, real trouble. I trusted you because I didn’t have a choice. You trusted me when you do have a choice, Evan. You got other friends you could’ve run to, smarter than me. Don’t trust unless you must. That’s my motto.’ Shadey reached out, squeezed Evan’s shoulder. ‘I thought about what that Galadriel Jones said to me. If you came around, she said call this number, and I’d have fifty thousand bucks in cash, tax-free.’
‘But you haven’t called.’
‘What do you think?’
‘No. Because you’re all about respect, and she’s trying to bribe you. Trick you.’
‘I pretended to listen to her. Sure I was tempted. That’s over two years’ salary taking shit from the snot-asses at Tuscan Pines. But you know, fuck her. I might lie and I might steal once upon a time, but I ain’t gonna be bought.’