by Aiden Bates
Tran cleared his throat. "Mr. Wesson is not a detective. He can't be expected to do that type of leg work in place of his actual lab work."
Sam lowered his eyes. "Of course not." He bit his lip. "Is there anything else I can use? Any more nails for the coffin?"
Oliver rolled his eyes. "You're not asking for much here, are you? Only that I drop everything I'm working on, for literally ten other cases, to focus on one I've been pulled off of." He shook his head. "I'm such a sucker."
"Look, I'm sorry that it's inconvenient, but you started the job, Oliver." Sam sat up a little straighter. "Don't you think that it's only right that you see it through?"
Rage burned through Oliver then. "You've got a lot of nerve talking to me about not seeing things through."
Sam snapped a rubber band that hung around his wrist. "I thought this was supposed to be a strictly business meeting."
"It's not like you'd have bothered talking to me if it weren't." Oliver closed his eyes and tried to find his center. Tran's hand on his back helped. "There are additional notes in the back of the file, small details that might help and might not. There isn't a lot of physical evidence this far removed from the date of the crime. There aren't any clothes to examine; he's already gotten rid of the car. We have the surveillance photos, we have the blood evidence. We have motive. You get to come up with the corroborating evidence for all of that. This isn't television. I don't go knock on doors and talk to people. You do."
"You're angry." Sam sat back.
"Yes, Sam, I'm angry. I think I've got a right to be angry. I'm pregnant, I have no one to help me or support me, and you've decided I'm something you can throw away. My life in Massachusetts is essentially over. Yes, I made the decision to have sex, and it's on me. I should have expected all of this, and I'll never expect better from anyone again, but God damn it I am still angry."
Sam stood up. He looked like he was trying to calm himself. His chest heaved, and his hands clenched by his sides. "If you'd read the damn letter that I wrote, I poured my heart into it. I'm giving you child support. I'm willing to play a part in the baby's life, as like a great-uncle or something. I just can't be the kid's father. I mean, think about it rationally for a minute, would you? I'll be seventy when it turns twenty-one!"
"So what?" Oliver shoved the folder across the table at Sam. "Is your child support going to make sure that someone's there to watch the kid when I get called out to a crime scene at three in the morning? Or are you just okay with your crime scene being contaminated by dirty diapers and Cheerios? Is your child support going to help me when I've just gotten home from a fifteen-hour day and there isn't a goddamn other soul who can soothe that crying baby with another tooth coming in, because I'm the only one it has? No. It isn't. And that uncle it sees once a month is cold comfort, Sam. I know you think you're being generous there, but in reality it's a slap in the face. Another one." He stood up. "The thing is, you don't even know you're doing it. And when I tell you, you don't care."
Sam reached over the table and grabbed his arm. "How can you say that I don't care? Being apart from you is killing me! I'm doing this for you!"
Tran's voice cut through the misery like a knife. "You're going to take your hands off Oliver, Nenci, and you're going to do it now. This is your only warning."
"Oh come on." Sam stood back, hands raised.
Oliver supported himself on the back of a chair. "Look. I think the solution is pretty clear. I'm not going to raise a kid alone. Some people might be cut out for it. You did just fine with Jake and Joe. I'm not that guy. I've seen what happens when someone who's not suited to single parenthood tries to do it. It's constant recrimination, constant self-doubt. What did I do to make Mommy angry today? Nope. I'm not putting my kid through that." He picked his head up. "I'm putting the kid up for adoption."
"You don't get to do that." Sam leaned forward again, but he didn't try to touch Oliver.
"Excuse you." Ryan stepped forward again. "It's his body, his choice."
"It's his body, but that baby is part of my family. It's not a big family and you can't just scatter my family, my progeny, over the country all willy-nilly!" Sam's eyes shone with unshed tears. "I mean, for crying out loud, Oliver, you can't just take my kid away from me!"
Ryan sneered at him and crossed his arms over his chest. "I think you'll find that the law says something different, Nenci. Weren't you just saying that you weren't willing to be a father?"
"Be reasonable here. I'm old!"
"Not too old to make a baby. You want to talk about being reasonable, try not expecting Oliver to suffer the consequences alone." Ryan pinched the bridge of his nose. "You know what? In a good and loving relationship, it's not necessarily suffering. It's still hard. I mean, me and Nick, we still have our troubles, and having a kid is one of the most frustrating things in the world sometimes. I don't think that I could do it on my own. I love DJ, but I'm like Oliver. I think I need a partner to be a good parent to him."
Sam tore at his hair. "Would you two listen to yourselves? I raised not one, but two boys by myself and I did just fine."
"You did. And you managed. Good for you." Oliver tossed his head back. “You also had a lot of support from their dad's family. I don't have that. I'm alone. I'm always going to be alone, because no one wants used goods, and I can't raise a kid by myself like that. I'm sorry. I know you were looking forward to being an uncle and spoiling the kid rotten or something, but you're going to have to wait until one of your own kids takes a mate.
"And by the way." Oliver walked toward the door. He'd never been this aggressive before, and he wasn't sure if he liked it, but the words needed to be said. "I notice how your responses are just dismissing my issues without offering any actual solutions. Classy, Sam. I'm not your brood mare. I'm not just an incubator for your spawn, here to bring it by to your house once a month so you can feel good about the choices you made.
"I'm going to give the baby up. I'm not doing it because of you. I'm doing it because of me, because I can't be a good parent alone. And then, once I've recovered from the birth, I'm going to start looking for a new job. I'm going to move far away, because I don't want to be angry and hurting anymore. I just want to be left alone. I want to forget that I ever met you."
"You hate me that much?" Sam staggered back.
"I should. I should absolutely despise you, for how you've treated me. I don't hate you. I even love you, after everything. But I need to not be around you, because I don't like who I'm becoming." He left the lab.
Ryan followed him out to the bicycle lockup. "That was pretty powerful," the tall detective told him. "Are you going to be okay?"
"No." Oliver looked down. "I'm not. I haven't been okay since that first night with him, to be honest. I don't think I'll be okay for a long time. But I want to be."
Ryan sighed and leaned against the bike rack. "I wish it didn't have to be like this." One corner of his mouth twitched up. "I've always been a sucker for a happy ending, you know? Do you really want to give your baby up for adoption?"
"No." Oliver unlocked his bike. "I don't. I cried. I cried a lot, and I'm not some weeping statue kind of guy, you know? It hurts. Just the thought makes that empty, aching place inside me even bigger. But I don't feel like I have an option. My mom was a single mother, and we're a lot alike. And yeah, there are a lot of single parents who do a great job. She wasn't one of them."
Ryan pursed his lips and nodded. "I see. Do you ever hear from her?"
"Nah. She wanted me out as soon as I turned eighteen. She stopped by to visit a couple of times when I was in college, but that stopped." Oliver rubbed his arm. "It's okay, you know? I don't really mind. It's just between knowing that she's my only example, and not having someone else right there to help me learn to be better, and the job, and everything else—"
Ryan put a hand on his shoulder. "I get it. I was a foster kid myself. When I found out I was pregnant, I can't say I was happy. Me and Nick were a little volatile at that point
. I had to think seriously about what to do. Whatever you decide—and it sounds like you've made a pretty rational decision—I'll back your play." He grimaced. "It's going to be rough either way, though."
"I know." Oliver hung his head. "I don't think there's any other option."
"Well, it does look bleak." Then he grinned. "The great thing about pregnancy is that it can't be rushed, though. Something could change. Don't polish off the old resume just yet, okay?"
Oliver chuckled. "Yeah, we'll see. I'm not going to leave the lab on short notice. We're down too many people as it is."
"See? You can't leave. We need you." Ryan patted his shoulder. "Give me a call if you need anything."
Oliver smiled and hopped onto his bike. He rode home feeling both saddened and lighter than he had before. He'd told Sam what was in his heart, and what his plans were. They couldn't be changed now. Everything was set in motion, he had a course of action, and all that was left now was to follow through.
He would miss the Mass. State Police. He liked this lab. Nina had been good to him. He had friends here, for a given value of friends. They weren't close enough to help with this problem but they were still good people, folks he liked to see every day, and it would be weird to not see them every day.
He would miss the apartment, too. It wasn't huge. But it was safe, and it was close to his lab. Would he be able to find a place like this so close to his next job?
He shouldn't think about the negative qualities. It was going to be the start of a bold new adventure.
***
Sam scanned and forwarded the entire file that he'd gotten from Oliver before he remembered to check his email. Sure enough, Oliver had forwarded him an electronic copy of everything related to the case, and cc'ed his boss. He decided that he could forgive himself for the slip up. It wasn't like he'd just been cut off from his youngest child or anything.
He didn't say a word to anyone that night. His phone rang, but he ignored it. Maybe it was Oliver, calling to say that he'd changed his mind, but who was Sam kidding? Oliver had no reason to change his mind. Oliver had every reason to stick to his guns and move on. Why would he want to raise Sam's baby? Sam was just Sam—decrepit, old, nothing to offer.
He got through the next day on autopilot. He didn't pay much attention to anything outside of the case. The small part of his brain that was still awake and functioning figured that the case had destroyed his life; he might as well finish it off.
Well, the case hadn't actually destroyed his life. He'd reached a point where he could make tentative overtures with Joey again. He and Jake were communicating better than they had in years. He was working toward getting along better with his colleagues and he'd even managed to keep from blowing up at Devlin about the manipulation. On all fronts but one, this case had improved Sam's life a thousand-fold.
The only thing that it had destroyed was his relationship with Oliver. Before the case started, Sam's relationship with Oliver had consisted almost entirely of little sighs and fantasies he didn't talk about outside of the privacy of his own bedroom, and sometimes the shower. Now, though, he'd had a chance and he'd blown it so spectacularly that it looked like Atlanta after Sherman got done with it.
His last session with Dr. Trujillo had been enlightening. He'd convinced himself that he was avoiding a relationship with Oliver, whom he adored, because of the age difference. Trujillo had deeper suspicions about his motives, and after some probing questions she leaned forward. "I don't think that the age difference has much to do with it. I think you are concerned about it, but I don't think that you'd be quite so dismissive of his acceptance of the risks if it weren't for your own opinions about yourself."
He wanted to argue with her about that, but he couldn't. "He can't love me," he said, after several minutes of stunned silence. "I'm the official department troll. I was thinking that I might retire after this case is over. It's not like anyone there would miss me, or even notice. I'm literally the office troll."
Trujillo shrugged. "That's a decision you have to make. But you came in here to work on that, right? And your boss cared enough to try to do something to bring you some happiness, even if it was misguided. So let's talk about why you're sabotaging your chance for happiness. Or, why you've sabotaged it."
Now, sitting at his desk and typing away, Sam had to admit that the past tense was key. It had very little to do with the age difference, even though that had played a role. No, Sam had blown things up with Oliver because he was afraid. He couldn't be vulnerable, and instead he'd ruined something that could have been—should have been—beautiful.
Their baby would have been amazing. It would have been beautiful, and smart, and if they'd been together it would have gotten Oliver's sweet temperament. Now even Oliver was losing Oliver's sweet temperament, because Sam poisoned everything that he touched.
Maybe Oliver's decision was the right one. Sam shouldn't be allowed near a kid, not anymore. Sure, Joey and Jake had turned out fine, but he could see that he was too messed up.
He stared at the screen. Families were weird. He'd never been all that close with his own family, but he'd built one with Chris and now that was gone. He had his sons but they were grown, and the jury was still out on how things were going to be with them going forward. Oliver, apparently, had no family either. They were both kind of screwed up guys, but they were functional. Mostly.
Then there were the Marstens and the Couchers. The Marstens were pieces of work. Sam knew, just by looking at the timeline he'd built, that taking Isaiah down had just been cutting the head off of a hydra. Another would spring back in his place, and they'd start all over again. If Sam were a gambling man, he'd put money on another spectacular fire on a Coucher property sometime within the next two years.
Of course, the Couchers weren't saints. The past couple of generations had gone clean, but the ones before that had been just as bad as the Marstens. They'd just been subtler about it. Now that they'd "gone legit," they limited their predation to the corporate world. To be honest, if Sam had gotten screwed the way that Bill Coucher screwed the Marstens, he'd probably want to set something on fire too.
Come to think of it, he didn't have the expertise to say anything about white-collar crime one way or the other. He thought he might know one or two people who did, but was it worth it? There would be subpoenas, and hassle, all for something that he just thought had probably happened because Sam himself couldn't quite understand how real estate law worked.
The Marstens did. They had lawyers to fight on their behalf, to shout and fuss and wave their fists. If there had been a problem, it would have been the Marstens themselves who would have found it.
He went home at quitting time. He hadn't said anything to another soul all day, and he found he didn't mind. No one else seemed to have noticed, which only cemented his own belief that retirement might be the best option for him.
When he got home, he found that he wasn't going to get the same privilege. Both of his sons' cars were in his driveway, front and center this time. Well, at least they were up front about it. There weren't going to be any surprises this time.
He steeled himself for the inevitable and headed into the house. Joey and Jake sat on the couch with identical looks on their faces. Sam recognized that look. He'd given it to Jake the time Jake had begged and pleaded to be allowed to enter the Academy. He'd given it to Joey the time that Joey had informed him in no uncertain terms that he would not be attending the Academy, thank you very much.
Chris had given it to Sam, the time he'd accidentally dropped Jake.
Sam took off his jacket and hung it on the peg next to the door. "All right, boys, let me have it."
The twins glanced at one another. "We're having a brother," Joey said, turning his head back to his father.
"Or a sister." Jake put his foot on the coffee table, which he'd never been allowed to do. Sam let it slide. "A sister would be kind of awesome. Think about the cute dresses we could put on her, man."
"I
saw the most adorable little onesie at the mall today. You know, where I went when my little brother called me up." Joey turned flinty eyes over to his father again. "I even bought it. And then he calls me back and tells me that Oliver's choice is made."
Sam's eyes filled with tears, and he looked down and away. Of course, the twins weren't finished. Not by a long shot.
"Yeah, I spoke with Oliver. He's already spoken to a few agencies. He's really going with adoption." Jake dabbed at his eyes, and it wasn't a feigned gesture either. Sam could see the way that his eyes shone in the light. "I mean, I can't exactly blame him. It's a lot to ask, you know? Hey, Oliver, raise my little sister all by yourself, when you have no idea what proper parenting looks like and will be lucky to get a sitter once every couple of months."
Sam sat down in the old lounger. This had always been his chair. Back when Chris had been alive, this had been his chair. After Chris was gone, this chair had held him long after the kids had gone to bed, when he could cry with impunity. "I want to say, We don't need another kid, we're fine the way we are." He blinked to force the tears away. "I'd be lying, but I still find myself wanting to say it to put a good face on it for you kids."