“Oh, boy. And Edward believed him?”
“Dad said it, didn’t he? Of course he believed him. Until one rainy day when now fully grown Officer Edward, who’s moved back to Michigan, opens up the morning newspaper and sees his mom’s obituary staring back at him. With a few phone calls, he tracks down the lawyer for his mom’s estate, who tells him his mom had spent decades, and most of her money, searching for him. And that’s the first time in twenty years that he hears his real name: Ellis.”
“Real candidate for Thorazine, huh?”
“Candidate? We’re talking spokesmodel,” Scotty said.
“How’d you even get all this info?”
“It’s in his file.”
“His personnel file has this?”
“Personnel? No, no, no. This is his case file. That’s what happens when there’s a murder investigation,” Scotty explained. “A few days later, the estate lawyer reports a break-in at his office, with Mom’s books and papers suddenly gone, including an old Missing Child flyer that was in the files. Two weeks after that, Edward’s dad is found floating facedown in a lake behind his house. With no one to blame, it gets labeled as a boating accident.”
“Until . . .”
“Until six months later, when Edward’s suspicious squad leader opens Edward’s locker at work and finds the old Missing Child poster from when Edward was young. But instead of the picture of him as a little boy, your man Officer Edward had taken photos of his father and glued the head shots onto the head of his own old childhood body. Now they revisit Dad’s so-called accidental death. Anything seem a little fishy to you?”
“Who knew that collage skills could be used for evil?” Naomi asked as she made another left and veered toward the entrance for the highway. No question, traffic was murder, but with her blue lights, it wouldn’t slow her down. “So they fired Ellis right there?” she asked, pulling around the pack and riding along the shoulder of the road.
“Fired? Please. First they put him on leave, then they tried to prove he committed the murder, and then they let him resign, pension and all. You know the game: If they fire him, he’ll slap back with a lawsuit, then all this homemade Missing Child stuff hits the cable shows, and then the Michigan cops will have one of those public headaches that even the public doesn’t want. Better to just—poof—wave your wand and make it disappear.”
“But the way he’s calling himself Ellis again . . . going all Mr. Ripley with himself . . .”
“No doubt. He clearly found something he loved in his old life,” Scotty said. “Anyway, where’s Officer Nutbag now?”
As Naomi plowed along the shoulder of the road, she again eyed the crimson triangle on the digital screen. “Approaching the rental car center. I’m betting he’s meeting Cal at the airport.”
“You think they’re in it together?”
But before Naomi could answer, her phone beeped and Seminole Police appeared on caller ID. “Scotty, I gotta take this.”
With a click, she flipped to the other line. “Agent Molina,” she answered.
“Benny Ocala,” replied a man with a creaky low voice.
Benny Ocala, Naomi nodded to herself. Chief of the Semi-nole Police. And the last person Cal called from his cell phone last night.
“Thanks for getting back to me, Benny,” she said, pumping the gas, nearly at the airport. “I think we have a good friend in common.”
36
My dad heads to the gate alone. Serena follows by herself. By the time I get there, the plane’s already boarding. But my father’s waiting, tucked in the corner by the wide, sun-filled windows. I’d like to think he’s concerned about me, but I can see what he’s really looking at. He’s not going anywhere without my backpack.
Wasting no time, he heads toward me, limping slightly and tender from the stitches. It’s amazing how much slower he moves when he needs something. Especially sympathy. As he steps next to me, he just stands there, waiting for his moment, and I can feel him teeing up his apology for what he said about Mom.
“Calvin, I just want you to know . . .” He clears his throat. “I really appreciate you looking out for Serena like this.”
“Any families with small children or requiring special assistance are invited to board at this time,” the gate agent announces.
“Anyway, I think having her here—it’ll be good for us,” he adds, though when I see who he’s looking at, I don’t think us means him and me.
Tracing his glance, I spot Serena in the corner. She’s staring up at the sky as she marvels at one of the departing planes while talking on her cell. Her skin’s splotchy, and a bit of tummy chub rolls over the front of her jeans. But the way the sun hits her—it’s like she’s made of bronze. She’s gotta be my age. Maybe a year or two younger.
“See that?” my dad adds, turning his crooked face back at me. “I don’t never get women like that. So the fact she even came here—for me—”
“Who’s she talking to on the phone?”
“She does nutritional consulting for people on chemo. She’s just canceling appointments.”
“You willing to bet your life on that?” I ask, searching the crowd for Naomi and Ellis.
“Calvin, listen: For that agent to even catch you on the phone—feds are already at your house, aren’t they? They’re racing here. What other proof do you need? We’re fighting for our lives now. And Serena’s part of mine. So if you wanna back out—if you don’t wanna come, I understand. But Serena and me—” He breathes hard through his nose. From his front pocket, he pulls out the scrap of paper where he copied the Cleveland address. I make a mental note. He thinks it’s about the address and not the comic. “Anyhow, I hope you come with us.”
My dad walks slowly to the boarding gate. I keep waiting for him to look back to see my decision. But he just keeps watching Serena.
I still don’t move. I know it’s pathetic, but— C’mon, just look back.
He doesn’t.
I still wait.
And he still walks. Part of me can’t blame him. I’ve been out of his life for—
He glances over his shoulder. Our eyes lock.
It’s small and silly and far too precious to actually matter . . .
But it matters.
Everything with your father matters.
Ten feet in front of me, Serena slides next to my dad, and they quickly lock pinkies. She’s not even a bit scared. He’s walking fine now. No limp at all. Boy, was that easy for them.
I don’t know her. I barely know him. And they’re headed to Cleveland based on a delivery address my father pulled out of a dead man’s coffin.
I can stay here. I can. But I heard Naomi’s threats. I saw Ellis’s gun. My father was right about one thing: If I don’t get on this plane, I’ll be arrested today and dead by tomorrow.
My father and Serena disappear down the jetway.
I follow right behind them.
Up, up, and away.
37
Benoni, what’s wrong? What happened?” Ellis asked his dog, who was down on her stomach, barely moving in the backseat.
Ellis pulled into an open spot at the rental car return center, then hopped out, ripped open the back door, and leaned down toward Benoni. “What? What do you see?” he asked, following the dog’s eyeline and looking over his own shoulder. Behind him, up in the corner of the garage, a security camera in a black globe peered directly at him.