“Did she like it?” April reeled in her line.
“I think so. It was a long time ago.”
“Why did she stop coming?”
Frank gave April a look. “What’s with all the questions? You’re scaring the fish.”
April set her fishing pole in a holder on the side of the boat. “I wanted to ask you about Jason.”
Frank frowned. “I should’ve known. Ruth mentioned you were asking about him. Here I thought we were fishing for bass. Turns out you’re fishing for information.”
April sat on the bench, facing Frank. “Come on, Grandpap. I feel like everyone’s hiding stuff from me. Whatever the truth is, I can handle it. I’m almost twenty.”
Frank reeled in his line and set his pole in a holder. He sat on the bench facing April, eight feet away. “These are old but very deep wounds. We have to tread lightly. You understand?”
“Yes.”
He paused for a second. “What do you wanna know?”
“What was he like?”
Frank exhaled, his shoulders slumped. “Strange. Quiet. Didn’t interact much with adults. He liked to spend time with Becky more than the adults.” Frank clenched his jaw. “I should’ve known back then.”
“I listened to most of the trial.”
Frank knitted his brow. “You what?”
“I got a copy of the trial, and I’ve been listening to it.”
Frank scowled. “What you’re doing is gonna hurt this family.”
April held out her hands. “Why?”
“Because this was a terrible time in our lives. None of us wanna relive it.”
“I need to know the truth. The whole truth.”
“You already know the truth. Everything’s in the trial.”
“That’s the problem. The trial wasn’t definitive.”
Frank shrugged. “The jury disagreed with you on that. They were very definitive. They were unanimous.”
April pressed her lips together. “What if mistakes were made?”
“What mistakes?”
“Why didn’t Grammy put the underwear in the trash? They were worn out and stained. The trash can was right there. Maybe she forgot that she put the underwear in the trash.”
Frank shook his head. “That’s not what happened.”
“How do you know? You weren’t in the bathroom with Grammy.”
His face reddened. “Jesus, April. You sound like his defense attorney. Becky IDed him. A doctor confirmed the abuse. His DNA was on her underwear. He was alone with her. I’ve seen many men sent to prison for a lot less.”
“But my mom testified that Jason played with Becky a bunch of times and nothing happened. Why would it happen all of the sudden?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he was grooming her. Maybe he was waiting for her to reach a certain age. These child predators have specific ages they target.”
“But—”
“That’s enough.” Frank glared across the boat at April. “This may seem like a Nancy Drew game to you, but Becky’s never been right since and neither has your Aunt Susie. This nearly destroyed our family. Now that you know, I need you to let it go.”
April dipped her head, chastened. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to upset anyone.”
Frank’s expression softened. “I know you’re not. You’ve always asked so many questions. I remember taking you out here when you were little and you’d talk my ear off. Asking me how fish breathe. What do they eat? How do they have babies? How many types of fish are there? How big do they get? On and on.” Frank chuckled.
April smiled. “I remember.”
“That’s why you’re so smart.”
“One more question? I promise this is the last one.”
Frank sighed. “I can’t stop you from asking.”
“Is that why Susie never got married?”
“I know it ruined one potential marriage.” Frank stood from his seat and grabbed his fishing pole. He cast his line into the lake, no longer making eye contact with his granddaughter.
April stood from her seat and grabbed her fishing pole. “Susie was engaged?”
“Yep. They broke up because Becky needed so much attention. I guess it was too hard to build a marriage, when Becky consumed every last ounce of Susie’s energy.”
April cast her line into the lake. “Did you like Susie’s fiancé?”
“I did. He was a hard worker. He’s a successful real estate developer now.” Frank’s line tugged and the pole bent toward the water. He tugged back, setting the hook and reeling in his catch. “Got one!”
Chapter 83: So It Begins
Over the past two weeks, April had listened to the trial over and over again, becoming an expert on the arguments. She hadn’t asked her family about Jason since her fishing excursion with Grandpap Frank. She had thought very seriously about going back to Portage with a DNA test to determine for certain if she was Jason’s daughter. She still hadn’t decided whether or not to do it.
April sat at her desk, scrolling through pictures of Travis on her phone. She swallowed the lump in her throat. Tears welled in her eyes. Three weeks ago, she had Travis, and she didn’t even know Jason Lewis existed. A big part of her wished she’d never found out about Travis cheating or Jason’s existence.
An email notification appeared on her phone. She tapped the notification, taking her directly to the email.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Date: July 24, 2020, 10:03 AM
Subject: Update Jason Lewis
You’re receiving this email because you elected Public Records to notify you if there were any updates to the following background check:
Jason Lewis
The following update(s) have been made.
Address
Second Chance House
340 Eighth Avenue
Loganville, PA 16666
April sucked in a sharp breath and said to herself, “He’s here.”
Chapter 84: Second Chances
April drove into downtown Loganville, passing brick and stone row homes used as offices and storefronts. She slowed her Civic as she neared the police station. A crowd of Latinos shouted and held various signs that read Find Rosa, Justice for Rosa, No Justice No Peace, Save our Children, and Racist Police.
As April drove past, she cracked her window, listening to their chant.
“El Diablo está aquí! El Diablo está aquí! El Diablo está aquí!”
April had taken Spanish in high school, and she knew that meant the devil is here.
A few blocks from the police station, April parked along the street, in front of a line of brick row homes. She put on her mask and slipped her hand sanitizer in the front pocket of her jeans. She walked to the brick house at the end of the block. A sign next to the front door read Second Chance House.
She entered. The wood floors creaked under her feet. A wooden staircase and a hallway lay before her. An open room was to her left, down the hall a few steps. A man’s voice came from the room. April stepped forward and peered into the room.
A man sat behind a metal desk, talking on his cell phone. He glanced up at April and said, “I’m gonna have to call you back.” He paused. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll call you back.” He disconnected the call and eyed April. “What can I do for you?”
April stepped into the office, stopping a few feet from the man’s desk. Metal filing cabinets lined one wall. Motivational posters hung from the walls. They all featured one word, followed by a sentence or two of wisdom. Success. Renew. Commitment. Excellence. Attitude. Beautiful images accompanied the words of wisdom: beams of sunlight on a putting green, a raging river, a rocket ship blasting off, a soaring eagle, and a cresting wave.
April said, “I’m here to see Jason Lewis.”
He narrowed his eyes. “He’s not here at the moment.”
“Do you know where he is?”
“I can’t give out that information. What is your relationship with Mr. Lew
is?”
April hesitated. “I’m a friend. Can I leave him a message?”
He stared at April for a few seconds. “Sure.”
April scrawled a short message with her phone number on her notepad, asking Jason to text or call her. She signed her name as Teresa.
Chapter 85: COVID Karen and Broken Becky
April had checked her phone obsessively on Friday, after she’d left a message for Jason, but he never called. She’d thought about whether or not she should tell her family that Jason was living in town. She’d come to the conclusion that they probably already knew, given that her father was a police officer, and, if she did tell, they would be irate that she had located Jason.
On Saturday night, she went to the one person in her family who she could tell without judgment, the person who should know above anyone else. April parked her Civic along the street in front of Becky’s Cape Cod. Light came from the windows and the porch lamps, brightening the night. Several cars were parked in the driveway. The thump of bass came from the house. April put on her mask and grabbed her hand sanitizer. She walked up the driveway and walkway to the front door.
She entered Becky’s house, without knocking. Rap music blasted from the speakers. A large man was in the kitchen, his head in the empty refrigerator. He slammed the door shut. He turned to grab his half-empty beer from the counter, noticing April walking past him.
He lifted his chin, his eyes crawling over April. “What’s up?”
April didn’t respond. She walked down the hall to the living room, where a dozen or so partiers snorted lines of cocaine off the glass coffee table, or made out in various stages of undress, or gawked at the half-naked women.
Becky snorted a line of cocaine through a short metal straw. She giggled and handed the straw to the young woman sitting on the floor next to her. “Your turn.”
April walked around the couch and tapped Becky on the shoulder.
Becky turned, looked up at April, and beamed. “Hey, everyone. This is my cousin, April. She’s a bit of a COVID Karen, but I love her.”
One of the guys said, “What up, April.”
Another guy said, “Why don’t you take off that mask, so we can see your pretty face?”
April ignored the guys. “I need to talk to you.”
Becky gestured to the cocaine. “You wanna party first?”
“Please. I have to tell you something important.”
Becky struggled to her feet on high heels. “Big surprise. Princess Perfect doesn’t wanna party.”
A few boos came from the party crowd.
April frowned and took Becky by the elbow. April led her wobbly, giggling cousin to the office. Becky’s “office” was a room with five rolling racks of clothes spanning the length of the room, with enough space between for Becky to browse. April shut the door behind them. Becky used a rack to steady herself. She wore a tight white dress, her nipples showing without a bra.
“Jason’s living in Loganville,” April said.
Becky laughed. “So what?”
“I thought you’d want to know.”
“I don’t give a fuck.” She sang the last word in her statement.
Clearly, April thought. “Why do you think he came back here?”
Becky shrugged. “Don’t know. Don’t care.”
April furrowed her brow. “How can you say that after what he did?”
Becky groaned, her head lolled to the side. “I don’t even remember.”
“What do you mean, you don’t remember? You IDed him. You gave testimony.”
Becky shrugged again. “We thought he did it, so he did it.”
April drew back. “What does that mean? Who’s we?”
Becky scowled. “This is bullshit. He did it. It’s over. I got bigger shit to deal with now.” Becky brushed past April, opening the “office” door.
April turned to face her cousin. “What are you dealing with? Maybe I can help.”
Becky turned from the door, one side of her mouth raised in contempt. “You wouldn’t understand. You never have. You’re so fucking perfect, and I’m so fucking … broken.” She whispered the last word.
“Try me. I’ll try to understand.”
Becky swallowed hard. Her eyes were glassy. “I’m gonna lose this house. With COVID, I can’t even work. Dancing at private parties isn’t enough. I’m gonna lose everything. My car. My house. Everything.”
“What about your mom? I’m sure she’d help.”
Becky cackled. “My mother doesn’t give a shit about me. She got millions from the civil suit. Gave me a fraction of that money, just so I’d leave her house. All of that money should’ve been mine.” Becky shook her head. “My mother hasn’t worked a fucking day since then. Always blamed it on me. Saying she needed to be home with me, but that was bullshit. She didn’t help me. Now, I hear she’s broke too.”
“I’m sorry, Becky. I didn’t know.”
“Save it. I don’t want your pity. All I have is right now. I plan to enjoy it while I can.” She turned and wobbled back to the party.
Chapter 86: Men at Work
On Monday morning, April parked two houses down from the Second Chance House on Eighth Avenue. She watched the brick row house, with a clear view of the front door. The sun barely peeked over the horizon. She perked up each time the door opened, and some man exited.
The third man to leave that day resembled the online pictures she’d seen of Jason Lewis. He was tall and thin and carried a backpack over his shoulder. A little gray mixed with his brown hair. He wore canvas pants, work boots, and a T-shirt. He walked with his head bowed to the bus stop across the street. April tilted her rearview mirror to keep him in sight. At the bus stop, Jason kept his distance from the other people waiting on the bus. He reached into his backpack and retrieved a surgical mask and a book. As he waited, he put on the surgical mask, and he read the book.
Shortly thereafter, a bus rumbled down the street. April started her engine, still watching the bus stop through her rearview mirror. The bus stopped and picked up a handful of people, including Jason. April reversed her Honda from the parking spot and followed the bus across town.
Five minutes later, Jason exited the bus at the edge of the Loganville city limits. The bus turned right and drove away, black smoke billowing behind. April illegally parked at the bus stop, watching Jason. He crossed the highway and walked over a bridge on the sidewalk. April drove over the bridge, passing Jason on the way. She pulled into a Sheetz convenience store, situated just beyond the bridge. She parked, insuring a clear view of the bridge.
April waited for Jason to make it across the bridge. When he did, he kept walking up a steep hill into a residential neighborhood of old single-family homes on small lots, mostly craftsmen, bungalows, and Victorian architecture. April waited until she could barely see him, then she started her car and followed him up the hill. She parked behind him, waiting for him to walk nearly out of view again.
April did this several times until Jason walked into a newer neighborhood of vinyl-sided colonials and ramblers. He had hiked at least three miles. In the back of the community, several houses were under construction. April parked in front of a fully built, but unsold home across the street from the construction site.
Jason entered the construction office trailer. He exited shortly thereafter, without his backpack, wearing leather gloves and a hard hat.
April spent the morning watching Jason carry sheets of particle board to the carpenters. By ten o’clock his shirt was soaked with sweat. All morning, that’s all he did, taking only one break to use the porta-potty. At lunch, he sat on a cinderblock by himself and ate sandwiches from his backpack. Fifteen minutes later, he was back to hauling particle board.
The men on the construction site often took breaks to smoke, to drink water, to eat, or to shoot the shit. From what April had seen, Jason hadn’t touched a tool and rarely took a break. April had lunch and had used the bathroom at the Sheetz down the road.
In t
he afternoon April received a text.
Mom: Where are you?
April: I’m fine. I’ll be home soon
Mom: Where are you exactly?
April didn’t answer her mother’s last text, not wanting to lie, knowing that her mother would be upset if she told her the truth.
Two hours later, at four o’clock on the dot, the construction stopped, and the men packed up their tools and left the job in their pickup trucks. Jason grabbed his backpack from the trailer, returned his hard hat, and walked back the way he came. April stared out her windshield, as he walked toward her. He walked slower than he had that morning. His shirt had salt stains from sweating all day.
A ringing bell made April turn away from Jason. A little girl rode her bike up the street, ringing the bell on her handlebars. She appeared to be seven or eight. Her mother jogged behind her wearing spandex shorts and a tank top. April watched Jason’s face as the little girl rode her bike past him, followed by the attractive woman. April expected Jason to leer at the little girl or at least glance at her. But he didn’t look at either of them. He didn’t look at April either, as he walked past her car.
On an impulse, April exited her car and called out to his back, “You need a ride?”
Jason stopped in his tracks and turned around. He forced a smile at April and replied, “No thank you.” Then, he turned and kept walking.
April walked after him. “Hey, I was hoping to talk to you.”
He stopped and turned around again, his forehead creased. “Do I know you?”
April stopped ten feet away, not wearing her mask. “I’m Teresa. I’m the one who left you a message.”
He narrowed his dark eyes. “What’s this regarding?”
April had already rehearsed the lie. “I’m a reporter from The Daily Pennsylvanian. It’s the student-run newspaper at the University of Pennsylvania.”
Jason nodded. “I know. I used to go there.”
April smiled. “Really? That’s great. I’m a sophomore, or I will be if we go back in the fall. Anyway, I wanted to talk to you about your trial back in 2000.”
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