But Not For Naught: A Clint Wolf Novel (Clint Wolf Mystery Series Book 5)

by BJ Bourg

  She scowled. “Talked to me? About what?”

  “About having a baby out of wedlock.” I grunted. “She knows better than to say anything to me, so she goes to you…classic move. Growing up, nothing I ever did was good enough for her and her preacher. I listened to the wrong music, hung out with the wrong friends, watched bad movies…” I grunted. “She tried to mold me into the person she thought I should be, rather than allowing me to grow into who I wanted to become. Thank God my dad was around from time to time between work hitches because he interfered where he could and I was able to enjoy some bits of freedom.” I shook my head. “I knew she would have a problem with our living arrangement, but I never thought she’d go behind my back and try to tell you how we should live our—”

  “Whoa, Tiger, simmer down.” Susan lifted a hand to stop me. “This has nothing to do with your mom. It’s me. I don’t want to have a baby out of wedlock.”

  “Wait…she didn’t talk to you about it?”

  “No, this is all my idea.”

  Relieved, I laughed at myself. “Oh, hell, I need to apologize to her. I guess she’s changed her ways.”

  “So, are you okay with waiting?”

  While it was the new millennium and that kind of thing was commonplace, I liked that she cared. “I am—we’ll just have to get married sooner, rather than later.”

  CHAPTER 13

  After eating dinner and walking Brandy back to the shelter, Susan and I joined my mom at the dinner table and we all huddled around a large box of photographs that my mom had brought from her house. “Since you’re about to marry my son,” my mom began, “you need to know about every embarrassing moment he’s ever experienced.”

  As she began flipping through the pictures in a red photo album, I snatched up a familiar blue one. I turned the pages until I found a picture of me and my dad with our white German shepherd, Winter. We’d lost her during a severe thunderstorm when a tree fell on her house and crushed her. My dad had been so upset over the loss that he never bought another dog.

  “Mom, have you spoken to dad lately?” I asked. He was supposed to be working somewhere in Egypt, but I hadn’t been able to reach him when I tried calling two days ago. “I haven’t been able to get him by phone.”

  Either she didn’t hear me or she was ignoring me, because she began telling Susan about this one time I tried jumping the bayou on my bicycle. “This is the picture of him trying to get the bicycle out the bayou,” she was saying. “I was screaming at him to hurry and get out of the water, but his dad just stood there laughing.”

  “Oh, my God, he must’ve been such a hoot!” Susan began flipping the page on the album when I saw her frown. She began feeling the picture pocket with her fingers. “This one’s thicker than the rest. It feels like there’s a picture behind this one.”

  My mom started to say something, but Susan wrestled a small stack of pictures out of the pocket. There were three of them and she spread them on the table in front of us. I glanced down and scowled. One picture was of a man and a baby, and the other two were of my mom, the man, and the baby. The man had his hand around my mom’s waist. The baby couldn’t have been more than a month old. What the hell?

  “Mom, who in the hell is that man and why is his hand around your waist?” I asked. “And who’s that baby? Is it me?”

  My mom’s face turned to ash and her mouth moved a bit, but nothing came out. After stammering for a few very long seconds, she finally just shook her head. “It’s an old picture. It’s from a long time ago. Let’s just keep going.”

  I snatched up the picture of the baby and the man and held it closer to get a better look at them. The baby had some kind of bonnet on her head and the outfit she wore was pink. “This isn’t me,” I blurted. “This is a baby girl.”

  “Well, if I didn’t know better,” Susan said slowly to me, “I’d swear that man was you. If you had a twin who went back in time, he would be it.”

  “Who are these people?” I demanded again. “And I want to know why that man has his arm around your waist. Does dad know about this?”

  Susan was an only child and, as far as I knew, so was I, but this picture was suddenly starting to make me doubt that fact. As Susan had pointed out, the man looked just like me, but my father was Ezekiel Wolf—and the man in the picture wasn’t Ezekiel. I felt my face flush. Had my mom been leading a double life?

  “Please just put the picture back,” my mom said in a low voice. She was staring at the photo like it was a bomb. “I didn’t know those pictures were still in there. I shouldn’t have brought these albums. It was a bad idea.”

  As she scrambled to gather up the albums, I suddenly realized there was something about the pictures she didn’t want me to see. I glanced down at the one in my hand and turned it over. We both gasped at the same time—my mom in fear and me in disbelief. The date scribbled on the back of the photo preceded my birth by five years, and there were three names written in faded ink under the date. I had to strain my eyes to read it, but the names were Nancy Montana, Garvan Montana, and Baby Crystal.

  “Who in the hell is Garvan Montana?” My voice was more forceful than I meant it to be, so I asked the question again, but a little calmer. “Were you married before? Do I have a sister? Why were these pictures hidden? Does Dad know?”

  My mom just lowered her head and sat there wringing her hands. She didn’t deny it. “Mom, were you married before?”

  After another long moment of silence, she nodded her head. “I…yes, I was married before.”

  “Shoot me dead!” My mouth dropped open as I wondered how I could’ve missed this bit of history. “This Garvan Montana fellow, was he your husband?”

  “Yes.”

  “And the girl…” I was afraid to finish the question, but I didn’t have to. I could tell by her expression that I had a sister. I sank back into the wooden chair and felt the spindles push hard against my shoulder blades. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I didn’t know what to say.

  Finally, I asked if my dad knew about her previous family.

  Mom nodded, but didn’t speak.

  I stared back down at the picture of…of my sister. I had a sister. Well, a half sister. “Why didn’t I ever know about this?” I finally asked after a few long minutes. “Why didn’t anyone tell me about her? Where is she? Do you keep in touch with her? How old is she? Why haven’t I ever met her?”

  A ton of questions were swirling through my mind and some were spilling from my lips, but my mom remained silent. It had been a while since I’d spoken to my dad and I didn’t want our first conversation in a while to be about this new information, but I wanted answers. I stood and walked across the room, pulling out my cell phone as I made my way out into the back yard. Achilles was relaxing in the far corner of the property, but his ears perked up when I walked through the door. He stood, stretched, and ambled toward me, his body swaying from side to side as he approached.

  “Hey, Big Man,” I said as the phone rang, “what are you up to?” I scratched the space between his ears and frowned when Dad’s voicemail picked up. I turned and walked back inside, allowing Achilles to follow me to the dining room. He went straight to Susan and rested his head in her lap.

  Mom’s face was twisted in anguish. “Who’d you call?” she asked. “Were you trying to reach your father?”

  I nodded, tossed my phone on the table. “He didn’t answer.”

  Mom went back to wringing her hands. “Clint, there’s something you should know, and I think it’s about time I tell you.”

  “What is it?” I braced myself. Whatever she was about to say couldn’t be good, because it appeared she was about to pass out. “Is it worse than me having a sister I never knew about?”

  “Your father and I…we should’ve told you this a long time ago, but we could never bring ourselves to do it. We could never find the right time.”

  “What is it?” My patience was waning. “Just spit it out.”

  She took a long
and wavering breath. After blowing it out, she quickly said, “Ezekiel Wolf isn’t your father.”

  CHAPTER 14

  I could’ve been knocked over by a butterfly. “What’d you say?”

  “I said,” Mom began, “Ezekiel Wolf isn’t your father.”

  “I know what you said, but…what…how is that even possible?” I shook my head. “That’s not true. He’s listed on my birth certificate. His name is right there next to yours. I’ve seen it many times. You’re mistaken.”

  “No, son, this is not a mistake.” My mom, her voice still quivering, pointed to the picture on the table. “This man—Garvan Montana—he…he’s your biological father. Crystal is your older sister.”

  The room seemed to spin. I’d heard of this happening to others—had even worked a case similar to this very scenario—but I’d never imagined I would find myself in this situation. I shook my head to clear it. “This isn’t happening. This can’t be real.”

  “I’m so very sorry, Clint.”

  “I…I don’t understand how this could happen. Does Dad even know?”

  My mom nodded as tears filled her eyes. “He does know. Please understand, no matter what, he is your one and only father. Garvan abandoned us when I was pregnant with you. He took Crystal and ran away, leaving me to fend for us alone. He never offered support or even cared to check in on you.

  “Ezekiel came along when I was about three months pregnant,” she continued, speaking rapidly as though fearing she’d lose the courage to continue. “Although I was carrying another man’s child, he accepted both of us as his own. He came to every doctor visit and he supported me like a real man should. I was six months pregnant when he asked if he could be your father. He didn’t want you to grow up a bastard child, so he wanted to give you his last name.”

  She paused and got up to grab a glass of water from the kitchen. When she returned to her place at the table, she frowned and tears began rolling freely down her cheeks again. “Ezekiel has always been such a great father and provider. He held my hand as I gave birth to you. He was there when you took your first steps. He walked you to the school bus every morning when he was home. He taught you how to shoot a rifle and even took you on your first hunt.” She nodded solemnly. “While he might not be your biological father, he’s your real dad—and don’t you ever forget that.”

  Susan scooted her chair close and hugged my mom. “It’s okay, Miss Nancy, let it all out.”

  In stunned silence, I watched Susan and my mom interact. I slowly lifted the photograph of Garvan Montana and studied this stranger, who was my real father. The implications were mind-numbing. The last name I was carrying wasn’t the one I was supposed to be carrying. I should be Clint Montana. It sounded awkward and weird inside my head, and I figured it would sound worse out loud.

  “So, this man”—I stabbed an index finger over the man next to Crystal—“is my real dad?”

  “No, he’s not,” Mom said through the tears. “I already told you that Ezekiel is your real dad, and nothing can ever change that.”

  “Well, I think science would disagree.” I tilted the picture and placed my finger over Crystal’s face. “And she’s my sister…”

  Mom nodded, her face twisting in agony as she stared at her only daughter.

  “When was the last time you saw her?” I asked.

  “She was almost five when Garvan kidnapped her from me. I haven’t seen her since.”

  “He kidnapped her? Why didn’t you call the cops?” I wanted to know. “Why didn’t you fight to get her back?”

  “He kidnapped her legally—he used the courts to steal her away from me.”

  The three of us sat there for about ten minutes, no one saying anything. There was no sound but that of my mom’s silent cries and Achilles’ thunderous bark whenever he heard a coyote howling outside. It was clear he wanted to be in the back yard, so I finally let him out. I was lost in thought as I moved. Mom was right about one thing; Ezekiel Wolf would always be my dad. But, as I returned to the table and stared down at the picture of Garvan Montana, a strange curiosity came over me. I began to wonder what kind of man he was. Was I anything like him? Did I look like him? Had Abigail looked like him? Was he a good man? What if he was a criminal?

  I rubbed my thumb over the baby in the picture. I’d never considered what it would be like to have a sibling, but now I learn I have a sister. She would be a few years older than me. What did she look like? Would I recognize her if we passed on the street? Did she have any children? If so, that would make me an uncle.

  “Mom,” I finally said, breaking through the silence, “Whatever became of Garvan Montana and Crystal? Where can I find them?”

  “What became of Garvan?” Her eyes clouded over. “I’ve spent half my life trying to forget that man’s name. I…I don’t know where he is or what became of him. I ran into his mother in the city a couple of years ago, but I didn’t even have the desire to speak with her. I don’t even think she recognized me.”

  “Do you have any information at all?” I pressed. “Is he still in Louisiana?”

  “I really don’t know. I’m guessing his mother still lives in the same place in La Mort. It was a family home. I saw in the paper that his dad passed away a few years back, and they mentioned he was a surviving member of the family, but I don’t know where he’s living. He always said he wanted to move to Mexico and start up a surf shop on the beach.” She grunted. “He didn’t know the first thing about surfing—I don’t even think he’s ever been on a surfboard—but you couldn’t tell him anything. He was as stubborn as they came and he knew it all.”

  I stared down at my hands, wondering how I could locate Garvan and Crystal. If they were suspects, locating them would be easy, but I had to figure out how to find them without using my law enforcement resources. It was illegal for an officer to use state and federal databases for personal reasons.

  “I want his mom’s address,” I said. “I have to head to La Mort tomorrow, so I’ll pay her a visit and see if I can find Garvan.”

  Susan cocked her head and mouthed the words, Are you sure about this?

  Mom clutched at her throat and her face turned paler than it already was. It seemed as though she regretted mentioning Garvan’s mother. “Oh, dear, I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”

  “Why not?” I asked. “He’s my biological father, so I think I’m entitled to meet the man. And if I find him, that would lead to Crystal. Wouldn’t you like to see her again—after all these years?”

  Mom stared into space for a few long seconds and then slowly shook her head. “No, Clint, I just think too much time has passed. I hope you’ll reconsider. It’s a bad idea to go down that path. It won’t end well.”

  “Why not?”

  “We didn’t end on good terms. The custody hearing was vicious. He’s a vindictive man and he turned Crystal against me. I don’t want to face them and be forced to relive that painful experience.”

  “I want to find them.” I said it with a finality that left no doubts as to my intentions. I was beginning to sense that my mom was keeping something from me, and I wanted to know what it was. “Where was his mother living when you and he were together?”

  “I’d rather not…I don’t remember.”

  I studied my mom. In all my years of living, she’d kept this information about Garvan and Crystal quiet. It suddenly occurred to me that she must’ve been under a tremendous amount of pressure and guilt. It was hard enough for me to keep a Christmas present secret from Susan, and I couldn’t imagine how it felt to keep a secret about your own child’s father and sibling.

  Speaking of siblings, I’d always said I never missed what I never had, so it never bothered me that I didn’t have a brother or sister growing up, but now I found myself wanting to know more about her. Had Garvan told her about me? At the time he left my mom, did he even know that I would be a boy? If Crystal didn’t know about me, would she be excited to learn she had a younger brother?


  “What about Crystal?” I wanted to know. “Where can I find her?”

  “Clint, it’s not a good idea.”

  “Mrs. Wolf,” Susan interjected softly. “I really think it’s important that Clint find the rest of his family. As you already know, family is the most important thing we have.”

  I could tell in my mom’s eyes that she was in distress. There was something she didn’t want me to know, and it made me more determined to find out.

  Susan was intrigued about this new revelation and began asking my mom questions about Crystal, attempting to steer the conversation toward happier times she would’ve shared with her daughter. It worked and my mom began talking about Crystal, telling fond stories of her first steps, her first birthday, and how she wanted to wear her pajamas on her first day of pre-school.

  When it appeared my mom had begun to relax a little, I tried turning the conversation back to Garvan, but she remained tightlipped. When it appeared she was about to start crying again, Susan cut in.

  “So, Clint, what kind of cake do you want for the wedding?”

  “Chocolate on chocolate,” I said without hesitation, willing to change the subject for my mom’s sake. I would find Garvan and Crystal on my own, and in good time. “That double or triple flavored chocolate, too—not the weak kind.”

  “You haven’t changed one bit, Clint Wolf,” my mom said, forcing a smile of relief that we were finally finished with the Garvan and Crystal subject. She turned to Susan. “It was so easy to make him happy for his birthday. I’d get him army men and a chocolate cake and he’d be content until the following year.”

  “We can’t have chocolate cake for our wedding,” Susan said. “That would be ugly.”

  I sighed and then leaned across the table and kissed her on the forehead. “You can pick the cake, the venue, the tux, and everything else about the wedding,” I said. “I’m just grateful to have you.”

  I got up and refilled my cup of hot cocoa. When I returned to the table, Susan was talking about having our wedding on a cruise ship. She had a website pulled up and was looking at cruises to Jamaica and Cozumel, Mexico.