“I think there are some pictures of Dad with the football team,” I say, and peer over her shoulder. “Let’s take a look.” She finds the picture, but no one on the team wears that number. “It could be the baseball team. There aren’t any photos of them here, but maybe I can find one somewhere else.” Even as I say it, though, I remember Manny looking confused when I talked about two cops. “What if it isn’t the number two at all? What’s if it’s something that sounds like two?”
“You mean like too, as in also? Or to, as in a place you’d go to? That’s a pretty strange nickname,” Maddie says.
But I know I’ve figured it out. I don’t want to be right, because if I am, that means the one person I never considered is not who I thought he was. “It could be initials,” I say.
“T.O.,” Maddie says.
“Exactly,” I say. “Tom O’Connor.”
26
I’ve stunned Maddie into silence. Hell, I’ve stunned myself into silence. Tom is the closest thing to an uncle I had until I found my New Haven family. He’s my dad’s best friend. He’s the last person I would ever think might be involved in something that would hurt Dad and me. Yet all that research I’ve done, all those articles I’ve read about the drug problems in Brooksby, the near-magical cleanup—they’re all about Tom. I kept looking past him, but he’s been right here the whole time.
“That can’t be right,” Maddie says.
“I know. Except I think it has to be.” So many of the pieces fit—Tom would have access to drugs from the raids; he knew my mother from way back in high school, so he probably knows how to manipulate her; he’s got access to my dad’s Facebook page, so he could have sent her pictures of me from there. But why would he do this? What’s the connection to the OD that had my mother convinced my dad was dirty? Is Tom the crooked one? Has he been all along? Maybe Brooksby’s magical solution to the drug problem isn’t so magical after all.
Maddie goes back to the pile of pictures from high school, carefully examining each one. “You know, there’s not a single picture of your mother and Tom together,” she says. “There aren’t any pictures of him at all, except for the football team. Maybe they have a history. Like, not a good one.”
“I guess if he’s the one doing this to her, she wouldn’t want to see his face if she could avoid it. It’s not proof, but it’s something. It might help me explain all this to Dad—I have to talk to him now. I can’t wait anymore.” I don’t know if there’s anything he can do, but he needs to know. I may have solved the biggest piece of the mystery, but I still don’t know what it means. Maybe he will.
“You know, it’s pretty amazing what you’ve been able to put together, without a whole lot to go on,” she says. “I’m sure it doesn’t feel like enough, but I’m really impressed.”
“You’d have figured all this out soon,” I say, but I’m proud.
“It’s a talent, really,” she says. “And it seems like maybe you’ve enjoyed it? I mean, not the circumstances, but the investigation itself.”
“I have,” I admit. “I never would have thought so.”
“Really?” She arches an eyebrow at me. “All those years of solving TV crimes didn’t clue you in that a real-life mystery might be something you’d want to solve?”
I shrug.
Maddie balls up the waxed paper from her sub and puts it back in the Vincenzo’s bag. The sun is just hitting the horizon, which is prime time for gnats—they swarm all around, alternately visible and invisible depending on what your eyes are focused on. “It’s getting kind of gross out here,” I say. “We should probably go.”
“This was nice,” Maddie says. “Hanging out with you here, as friends.”
“It was,” I say. “I know you talked about how being alone is a good thing, and I don’t want to mess with that. But do you think we could spend some time together this summer, as friends? Not all the time—you’ll still have lots of time to be alone.”
“I’d like that,” she says.
I take her home and then go back to my house, unsure of whether I want Dad to be there or not. We need to talk, but I could use some time to decide exactly what I’m supposed to tell him. That his best friend is responsible for ruining his life? I wanted to go to him with good news, that I’d found my mother, that I’d come up with some plan for everyone to forgive everyone else so I could have a real family. Instead, I’m going to go trash one of the only relationships he can count on.
I’m relieved to find he’s left for work already, which means he’ll either be sleeping or just waking up when I get off work tomorrow. That gives me some time to get my head together, and I need it.
The next morning, I leave him a note before I go to work, telling him I want us to have dinner tonight and talk. The gym’s pretty quiet, so in between helping with workouts and making smoothies, I have time to sort through everything I’ve learned, all the questions I still have. There are the obvious questions, like what Tom’s done, and how, and why. But those are logistical questions, and now that I have the outline of the facts, I’m finding I don’t care about getting those answers as much as I thought. I want to know about motivations: Why did my mother think leaving was the right answer, and then change her mind and leave us both? Why would Tom, Dad’s best friend, behave in a way designed to hurt him so badly?
Then there are the questions I have to ask myself. Is finding my mother so important, or do I just want to put the final pieces of the mystery together? Am I hoping for some sort of fantasy reconciliation between her and Dad? And if I am, is it really because I want Dad to be happy? It’s not hard to see that a happy ending for him gives me hope of a happy ending for me, but after one day of talking to Maddie, I’m not sure that would be a happy ending for her.
The workday ends before I’ve answered a single question, before I’ve decided how to tell Dad the whole story. It doesn’t worry me too much, though; it seems like maybe just knowing these questions are out there is the point. That, and realizing Dad is the person I most want to help me answer them.
I go home and get dinner started while Dad’s still asleep, going with something simple: a roasted chicken with some root veggies, onions, and garlic cloves. All I have to do is chop everything up, season the chicken, and throw it in the oven. He left a note saying he’s looking forward to dinner and has the night off, so we can talk as long as we need to. I hope he’s ready to stay up late.
I expect him to stagger out of his room all bleary, but he’s taken the time to get himself together, almost like he wants to make a good impression on me. I didn’t think about what a toll us not getting along might be taking on him. “Hey, kiddo, smells great in here,” he says. “Need me to do anything?”
Yeah, he’s definitely trying. “No, it’s all ready. I’ve got the table set up.”
Dad raises his eyebrows. “No couch tonight?”
“We’re going to be grown-ups,” I say. “I know I haven’t been acting like one, but I’m going to try.”
He nods. “Okay. I’ll get us some water.”
I get the plates together and bring the food out to the table, and we sit and eat quietly for a while, save for Dad telling me how good everything is. He’s not lying, either—it’s probably the best meal I’ve ever made, or maybe it’s just nice for us to be sitting together, not fighting, like adults.
When we’re done, I try to think of where to start, but Dad beats me to it. “Look, bud, I know you’ve got things you want to say, but let me go first, okay?”
Easier than figuring it out myself. “Sure.”
“I’m sorry I busted in on you in New Haven. I was worried, but I didn’t handle it so good. You have every right to want to know your family. When I realized you were with them it just brought me back to when all the bad stuff happened with your mom, but that’s on me, not you. I won’t keep you from seeing them, if that’s what you want.”
Guess he took the time we weren’t talking to do some thinking of his own. “Thanks, Dad. That means a lot.
”
“So what’s on your mind? I’ve missed talking to you. Seemed like you needed some space.”
“I did,” I say. Now for the hard part. “That letter from my mother raised a lot of questions for me. Not just the obvious stuff, like where she’s been all this time, but bigger things, too. Like what it means to have a family, what it means to be able to trust people. I’ve been looking for answers, and I haven’t found all of them yet, but I think I’m starting to find some, and they’re not all good.”
“Son—”
“I’m not talking about you.” I can’t let him interrupt, not now that I’ve begun. “I was really mad that you lied to me, and not just once. It took me a while to get past that, but I know you were trying to help. I wish you’d trusted me earlier, but there’s nothing we can do about that now. Besides, I know I have to trust you in return, so that’s what I’m going to do now.” I take a breath, and continue. “I’ve talked to a lot of people and did a lot of research, and I’ve got a lot of the story worked out, but I need your help with the rest. I learned some hard stuff, though. Do you want the good stuff first, or the bad?”
Dad’s mouth has fallen open a little. I’ve totally thrown him. “You pick, kid. It’s your story to tell now.”
“Good, then.” Why make this harder than it has to be? “My mother didn’t leave for the reasons you think. I’ll tell you all about that in a little bit, but you should know that she’s been carrying around pictures of you with her all these years. She has pictures of me, too, but these are the ones that really matter.” I’ve got everything set up on the chair next to me, where he can’t see it, and I pick up a stack of photos of the two of them together and happy and hand them over.
Dad goes through them slowly. He starts blinking fast.
“She took me because she thought you were doing something wrong, but she found out it wasn’t true,” I say. “I don’t know why she never told you that, or why she left us both, but I think she still loves you.”
He doesn’t say a word. Maybe I should have told him the bad news first.
“Do you want to know the rest?”
He slumps in his chair, nods.
“I think she took me because she thought you were stealing drugs from the evidence room and selling them,” I tell him. “After she got busted, Manny told her she was wrong. He wouldn’t tell me how he knew, or anything else, but I’m trying to figure it out. From what I can tell, she was right about someone selling drugs the Brooksby police confiscated from raids, and whoever that was planted drugs in her suitcase when she took me. She wasn’t using, and she wasn’t going to sell them. She was set up. I don’t know why. But I’m pretty sure I know who.” I’m not trying to be dramatic, but it takes me a second to get the words out. “I think it’s Tom, Dad.”
Dad looks like I’ve punched him in the gut. He starts shaking his head fast, then slow, like it’s sinking in. Then he gets up and brings our dirty plates into the kitchen. He’s gone for longer than it takes to put them in the sink, but I don’t hear the water running, so it’s not like he’s washing them. I’m tempted to go in and see how he’s doing, but maybe he needs a minute to himself.
When he comes back, his eyes are red, but he seems calm. He sits down, takes a long gulp of water, and looks directly at me. “The sentence for kidnapping is only a few years,” he says. “The sentence for intent to distribute the amount of drugs your mother had on her is much, much longer. If she’d been convicted, she’d still be in jail. There would have been no keeping the story out of the papers. You’d have been the kid with a mother in prison for dealing heroin. She would never have let that happen.”
I must look as confused as I feel.
“You said you didn’t know why someone would set her up,” he says. “Someone who knew her would know that she’d make a deal before she’d do anything to hurt you like that. Someone who knew her would know they could hold the threat of hurting you over her forever.”
I get it now. I’m right about Tom. “I think he’s still threatening her,” I say. “I found her friend, where she’d been staying. Someone called her on a phone she’s supposed to always keep, and she left. Her friend thought it was because of the letter. Maybe it was enough that he knew I was asking questions. Did he know, Dad? Did you tell him?”
Dad squeezes his eyes shut, then opens them. “I asked him for advice. I asked him how to talk to you about her. He’s who I ask about these things. I didn’t know—I had no idea—”
“Of course you didn’t,” I say, and I reach out to touch his arm. We don’t usually do that, but it was so comforting to me when Aunt Reggie hugged me. If I can give Dad even a little of that comfort, I have to try. “But do you have any idea why Tom would do something like this to you? To us?”
“I wouldn’t have thought so,” he says. “But there’s a lot that’s gone on at the station over the years that I’ve had questions about, and you may have just given me some answers. You need to leave that part to me, though. Your job is to decide what’s next for you. If you want to find your mother, I’ll help you, but I can’t make that decision for you. Not if we’re going to be adults together.”
“I sort of want to find her, but honestly, I don’t know if that’s more for me or for you. I have this vision of you guys getting back together and we’re all a family. Or something.” It sounds stupid even as I say it out loud.
Dad sighs. “Bud, I get it, but it’s not going to happen. I know we’re talking like adults here, but on this one you’ve got to let me be a father and say this: you don’t know what it means for someone to break you. I know things are tough with Maddie, and it hurts to know she’s leaving and not coming back, but trust me, it’s not the same.”
It’s not hard to see the disconnect between a high-school breakup and what my mother did. “So you can never forgive her?”
“That’s not the issue,” he says. “Some things are beyond forgiveness.” Funny, that’s what Aunt Reggie told Mia. “Sure, might help for us to sit down and hash things out, someday. But if you want to meet her, it has to be for you. Not for me.”
“I guess I have some thinking to do, then.”
“You can handle it,” Dad says. “I’ve got your back.”
27
Dad tells me it’s going to take time for him to unravel the Tom situation and that I should enjoy the summer, but even though I told him I’d let him handle it, I’m having a lot of trouble keeping my promise. He’s playing private detective at his own job, and though he grumbles about it, I can tell he’s having fun. He’s been stuck behind that desk way too long.
The first thing he does is to try and get Manny to tell him what he knows, but Manny’s just as close-mouthed with Dad as he was with me, so that gets him nowhere. That means there’s no one at work he can talk to until he’s sure. “Let me help,” I beg him. “I’ve gotten really good at research, I swear.”
Dad looks skeptical, and he’s right to—he of all people knows how much I used to complain about writing term papers. But I keep pestering and pestering him until he gives me something to do. “I need crime statistics for all the towns around Brooksby,” he says. “Drug crimes, especially. Whatever you can find.”
“Sure thing.” I’ve already got some information from when I’d looked at old papers before, and it turns out I’m pretty good at finding what he’s asked for and putting it all together so he can make comparisons. Based on what I’m seeing, I have a feeling I know what Dad thinks is happening, but it’s not until he starts meeting with cops in nearby towns and interviewing them about the drug trade over the past fifteen-plus years that it all comes together. Between the two of us, we come up with an explanation of what’s been going on that pretty much covers everything.
Basically, Tom’s success in ridding Brooksby of drugs is bullshit.
I help Dad get it all down on paper, with charts and graphs and transcripts from interviews, and Dad goes to the police chief to explain how Tom got drugs out of Brooksby by movi
ng them to nearby towns, working with local dealers and taking a cut of their sales. Half the department is in on it. Thankfully, the police chief is in the other half, and he’s quickly convinced Dad’s right. The story blows up quick, and the Drug Enforcement Agency steps in to take over the investigation. Dad gets to be the one to arrest Tom, though, so that’s pretty satisfying.
“Did you question him about my mother?” I ask. “Did he tell you where she is?”
Dad shakes his head. “Wouldn’t say a word. Wouldn’t have expected him to, though.”
That means I’m no closer to finding her than I was before.
In the meantime, there’s still a lot of summer left, and I have lots of things to figure out. Like what’s going on with me and Maddie. We’ve been hanging out as friends pretty regularly since that Winter Island trip, and it’s been really confusing for me. My rational self knows it’s best for us to stay platonic, to accept that we’re over even if I want to hold out hope there’s still a chance for us someday. My irrational self isn’t having it, though, and my physical self isn’t too into it either. The more time we spend together, the more I want to touch her. Not even so much the sex part; it’s more the casual closeness we had, where we’d sit on the same side of the table at a restaurant, our legs touching. Now it’s like there’s this one-inch barrier between us, and I want to cross it and see what happens.
Doing it comes with a lot of risk, though, and it all comes down to whether I’m willing to sacrifice the friendship we’re building on the off chance I can get the relationship back. When I think about it that way, the decision isn’t hard. While more things have changed for me than I can count, there’s no reason for me to think anything has affected Maddie’s desire to go to college free to be whoever it is she decides she wants to be once she gets there. So the barrier stays up.
For now.
There’s also the matter of how I’m going to get my new family to act like a family. Matt and I text regularly, and from what he tells me, things have gotten kind of ugly in New Haven—he’s gotten over being mad at Aunt Reggie for keeping me a secret, but after Dad’s surprise visit, he ended up telling his parents about our trip to Brooklyn. I can’t blame him, really; I’d never have been able to keep that secret if it were me. Now Aunt Reggie knows Nonna had information about my mother, so the two of them aren’t speaking. It makes me feel awful, like I’ve broken the family apart.
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