He opened the file again and pulled out a small stack of papers. They were statements from a bank in Missouri. The name on the account made my blood run cold: Arnold West. This was Crystal’s brother’s account.
"Around the time you were in Missouri, your uncle was making bi-weekly cash deposits of around two thousand dollars. They continued for three months after you were back in New York. Someone was paying him four to five thousand a month in cash. At the time, he didn't have steady employment. Odd jobs here and there, a couple of rental properties that brought in less than five hundred dollars a month. The timing is too convenient. That's where you should start. Have you called the detective yet?"
This was a lot to swallow. After I ran away from Missouri, I came home and hid in Kimmy's closet for over a week before we were caught by our mother. No one knew I was missing, because my blood relatives never reported it. They never reported it because someone was paying them to keep me a secret, and if I were missing, the gravy train would stop. It couldn't have been anyone who gave a fuck about my well-being, because it took three months for them to realize I was gone. I definitely didn't remember meeting anyone who could've been my biological father and definitely no one who gave a shit about me.
“Cole, the detective?” Dev asked again. I shook my head. “Really, man? It’s been almost six bloody months.”
I didn't have an answer for him. He was right. I should've called Detective Tan months ago, but I had a lot going on, and I was actively avoiding all this shit. Crystal's ashes were still in my mom's study. The shit from her Missouri home was stacked in the ground floor apartment that I'd been keeping for her like some kind of shrine. I still had her unopened letters. The pile of shit kept growing, and it was threatening to overtake me.
"Cole." Susan was sitting right next to me, but her voice sounded so far away. "I know this is hard. I know this is a lot, but your hearing is in three weeks. You don't want someone with a stronger claim on CJ to swoop in with a giant bag of money and fuck up everything we've been working towards for the last few months. We need to know. You need to know."
* * *
“Wow.” My mom was as shocked as I was when I told her what happened in Susan’s office today. It gave me a small measure of comfort that she didn’t know. She didn’t lie or keep things from me like Crystal. Of all the things my birth mother had done, this betrayal stung the worst.
“She never mentioned my biological father?” I asked.
“No,” Dad chimed in. “I asked. It would have been especially helpful if someone could have helped her financially. You said they were paying five thousand dollars a month?”
I nodded.
"So, what are you going to do, son?"
“I don’t know. I guess I have to find out who this guy is and make sure he doesn’t want CJ. He didn’t want me, so it shouldn’t be a big deal, right?”
“We’ll keep CJ. I don’t think he should go with you. You should do this alone,” Mom said.
She was right, but I wish I could do this with Lisa. I haven't told her about any of this. She already felt guilty about missing the hearing. If there was even a chance of me losing CJ and she wasn't here…I didn't want to stress her out even more than she already was. Every time I talked to her, she sounded tired, and I wondered if she was pushing herself too hard. My last memory of her was holding her in my arms while she cried herself to sleep. I wanted to take her home with me right then and there. At that moment, I didn't give a fuck about her dreams, if it meant never having to see her sad like that again. Then I came to my senses and did what I hoped was the right thing.
Now, I hoped I was doing the right thing by keeping this from her, this giant thing that cast a shadow over my life, and by extension, her life, too. I know I needed closure with Crystal if I ever wanted to have a real life with Lisa. I saw her face when I showed her the apartment. She knew I wasn't ready to let go. I was angry at Crystal every day for the last four years, but I also loved her. She gave me life. She gave me CJ. She gave me Beverly and Reggie Simmons. But fuck, she didn't make it easy. Even when she was gone, I was still cleaning up her messes and discovering her secrets.
* * *
Neighbor: Call me as soon as you land.
Me: I will. Have a great show.
Neighbor: You’re supposed to tell me to break a leg.
Me: But I don’t want you to break a leg.
Neighbor: You're so cute. A leg is a part of a theater curtain. In the old days, if a leg of the curtain broke during the applause, it meant that the audience loved your show. They didn't teach you that at Harvard?
Me: No, we learned useful stuff.
Neighbor: I’m gonna let that one slide because you have a large penis.
I burst out laughing, making a few heads in the adjacent rows turn.
Me: I miss you so much.
Neighbor: Probably not as much as I miss you.
Me: Prove it.
Lisa sent me a picture of something that looked like a purple microphone. I stared at the picture in confusion before realization hit and my dick hardened so fast, I had to put my tray table down so the person sitting next to me wouldn’t see the giant erection I sprouted.
Me: Send me a video.
Neighbor: Hell no.
Me: Tonight you’re gonna call me while you’re using that thing.
Neighbor: And if I don’t?
Me: Then I’ll come to Vermont and use it on you myself.
Neighbor: Promise?
I let out an involuntary groan and covered it with a cough.
Me: Please, baby. This might be the most stressful three days of my life. Throw me a lifeline.
Neighbor: I can never deny you. We’ll be waiting for you.
She sent another photo of her hand holding the vibrator. The fingers I've had in my mouth, and other places on my body hundreds of times, were wrapped around the handle and I wasn't sure if I could last the three hours it would take to land in Missouri and check in to my hotel room. I might have to duck into the airplane's bathroom and induct myself into the mile-high club.
I didn't tell Lisa the exact nature of my visit to Missouri. I told her that I had to take care of some last-minute business related to Crystal. It wasn't a lie. This was all related to Crystal. Everything circled back to her like she was a tornado, and everyone who got too close to the funnel was sucked in and swirled around until they were thrown out, hoping for a soft landing.
* * *
The next morning, I met with Detective Tan.
"It's about time you called." He indicated a chair opposite his desk, and I sank into it. "I was starting to give up on you."
“I’m sorry. The last few months have been a little hectic, taking care of a baby and everything,” I mumbled. I didn’t want to be here.
"I understand. I have two daughters myself." The ghost of a smile crossed his lips then faded just as fast. "I can't tell you much, but you seemed like a smart guy, and I was hoping you’d figure out a lot on your own and ask questions."
I nodded. I had to be cautious. I wanted to know what Detective Tan knew, but I still didn't understand why this guy wanted to help me. If my biological father was rich, it wasn't a stretch to think he had an in with the police department. It wasn't unheard of at Hollander and Cameron. It was an unspoken truth that some judges, prosecutors, and detectives were more cooperative than others depending on the client. Why would that be different anywhere else? I eyed Detective Tan and waited for him to speak.
“Do you have any idea why your mother would use an alias? Did she have any enemies that you knew of?”
“No. Not that I know of.” I shook my head. “Is this an open investigation? I was under the impression that Crystal’s death was ruled an accident.”
"According to my bosses, it is. But it isn't for me. Too many things don't add up. I thought you'd be interested in getting to the bottom of this, but if you're not, I'm sorry I bothered you." He leaned back in his chair. He seemed calm and unaffected, but there w
as an air of impatience and annoyance that he was trying to mask. My instinct told me that Detective Tan was on the up-and-up.
I took a deep breath and pulled the tattered envelope out of my bag containing the file he sent me. I told him about the airbag and the lipstick, what Dev discovered and what his friends from the coroner’s office and the NYPD thought.
"You said that an NYPD detective called the department?" he asked. I nodded. "I never got that call, and I was the lead detective on your mother's case."
I didn’t bother to correct him about Crystal.
"I'm not gonna waste too much more of your time, but I know we only got half the story on your mother's accident. I believe the truth is being covered up by someone rich and powerful, and I also believe there are high-ranking members of my department involved. I don't know if you can tell by looking at me, but I'm not part of the good old boys club, though my family has been in Missouri for four generations and the USA for much longer." He huffed out a mirthless chuckle. "I just want the truth. If I were you, I'd want to know. That's all I can say and keep my job, but if there's anything I can do to help you, I will. You have my number."
I nodded.
* * *
The talk with Detective Tan was enlightening though it didn't give me any new information. Two words stuck out to me and turned my stomach: rich and powerful. Who would want to cover up Crystal's accident? Why did she have an alias? Were these people dangerous? Was I poking a sleeping bear trying to pick at a scab that had been crusting over for six months? If our biological father was out there somewhere looking for CJ, he'd had six months to find him. What were the odds he'd grow a conscience in three weeks and become overwhelmed with the urge to raise a two-year-old?
* * *
I sat at the end of a long gravel road I hadn't seen since I was ten years old. My hands gripped the steering wheel, and my heart started to race. Something that felt like fear began to creep into my chest and spread like an icy chill to my arms and legs. I had to remind myself that I wasn't ten years old anymore. I was more than six feet tall and over two hundred pounds of solid muscle. I had a family who loved me, and none of them were at the end of this road. The only thing I needed from these people was answers. I would get them and get the fuck out of here as fast as I could.
"Hey, who's there?" A pale elderly round-faced man hobbled out of the dilapidated house, supporting himself on a cane.
I stepped out of the car and walked towards him. As I got closer, recognition dawned.
"Holy shit. Little Lincoln. You grew up, didn't you? What the hell do you want, boy? Come to see your old uncle Arnie?"
"Who's my father?" I cut to the chase. I didn't want to be here any longer than I had to. Laying eyes on the man who terrorized me for four months who now looked so pathetic and frail made me wonder why I'd ever been afraid of him in the first place.
“Gonna get right to it, huh?” he said in a series of coughs. “Why don’t you come in for a beer?”
“No, tell me who he is so I can get the fuck out of here,” I shouted.
"What the hell makes you think I know who your daddy is? Your mother was a whore. Always was. Your daddy could've been anybody who—" His sentence was cut off by me, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt pushing him towards his house until I pinned him to the wall, still clutching the fabric of his shirt and my nose an inch from his. I dragged his body up the wall until we were eye to eye.
"Shut the fuck up about Crystal. I know you know who my father is because he was paying you five thousand dollars a month in cash to keep quiet. After I ran away, he kept paying for three months. So don't bullshit me. Tell me who he is, and if you lie to me again, I'll snap your fucking neck. I don't know if you noticed, but I'm not a scrawny little kid you can kick around anymore. Now talk."
“It wasn’t your daddy that was paying me,” he whimpered then gulped.
I could feel his feet dangling as I held him up against the side of the house. He looked like a scared animal cornered just before a predator strikes the fatal blow.
"It was his wife. We could take one look at you and know who your daddy was. So I went to his big fancy house to tell him about you, but he wasn't there. His wife offered to pay me a thousand bucks a week to keep you a secret, and I took it. Taking care of kids ain't cheap. I thought when you got kids from the government, they was supposed to give you money. We didn't get a damn cent for you."
“That’s a foster kid, you piece of shit. Who is my father?”
"I guess them folks that you were so worked up to get back to didn't teach you any manners?" he spluttered. His face spread in a grin of yellowing teeth and gaps where teeth had once been. I dragged him up an inch higher on the wall and tightened my grip.
"Deacon Welles. Deacon Welles," he rasped. "He and your mama went to high school together. The family reckons she got herself knocked up thinking she could trap him, and when her little scheme backfired, she ran off."
“Welles.” The wheels were turning in my head. Something was familiar about the name. “Why do I know that name? Who is he?”
"You ain't from around here. The Welleses is the richest folks in the county, hell in three counties. Their name is on damn near every building. Your mama always thought she was better than us. She probably saw him as her ticket to the good life." He chuckled. "I'll bet she's sorry now. Where is she? Still locked up?"
I tilted my head and furrowed my brow in confusion. What the fuck? Did he not know about Crystal?
"Crystal died. She's dead," I told him. I felt his body go slack, and he stopped struggling.
“What the fuck are you talking about? My baby sister ain’t dead.” A different kind of fear clouded his face. I loosened my grip and lowered him to his feet.
“She died at the end of June in a car accident on some mountain road in Taney County,” I said.
His eyes widened in surprise. “Taney County? Here?” He apparently didn’t know Crystal had moved back to Missouri.
“She’d been living here for four years.”
He leaned against the house with his head bowed for a few moments. When his eyes finally met mine, I saw they were filled with tears.
"Her name is Vanessa. Vanessa Welles. You won't find your daddy, though. He died too." He wiped his nose with the back of his hand before using his cane to pull himself up and start hobbling to the front door of his house. He paused as he opened the door and turned to look at me. "He died at the end of June. Heart attack, the papers said."
* * *
Back at my hotel, I realized why the name Welles was so familiar. The cabin I was in, the same one Mom and I stayed in when we went to identify Crystal’s body and claim CJ, was part of the luxury resort, Welles Estates. On the way back from Arnold’s, I began to notice the name everywhere in town.
I spent half the night researching Deacon Welles, my father. There were hundreds of pictures of him. It was like glimpsing into my future. We had the same hair, same nose, same off-kilter smile. I found a picture of him taken when he was twenty-five, and it was like looking in a mirror. I also found images of his wife. She was beautiful, with shoulder-length blonde hair. In every photo, she wore a thousand-watt smile. My biological father was the sole heir to the Welles fortune. The Welles family had a hand in everything: imports, exports, oil, real estate, hospitality, investments. Anything that could make money. He didn't have any siblings, and by the looks of things, he didn't have any children, except me and CJ, but of course, we didn't appear in any Google searches.
Crystal’s brother wasn’t lying when he said he’d died. It was the first hit on my search. He had an undiagnosed heart condition, suffered a heart attack and was rushed into surgery but didn’t survive. He died a day after Crystal’s accident. It was too much of a coincidence. Two words kept ringing in my ear…
Rich and powerful.
Rich and powerful.
* * *
My phone buzzed on the desk. It was Lisa.
“Hey, neighbor,” I said in a
half groan, half sigh.
“Hey, sexy. What’s wrong? You sound upset.”
“It’s been a long day.”
“Do you wanna talk about it?”
“No, I just wanna hear your voice.”
“I might know how to cheer you up. My roommate is going to be gone for at least two hours.”
This day was fucked up, and I had no idea what tomorrow had in store. The closer I got to the truth, the more it scared me. My instinct told me to talk to Lisa to tell her everything, but what good would that do? I wanted to forget about everything that happened since I landed. I tried to ignore the pain in Arnold's face when I told him that Crystal was dead and how quickly all my fear and anger turned to pity. I wanted to forget the man who I now knew was my biological father, whom I would never meet.
“Oh, yeah? How do you plan on cheering me up?”
"I have my ways," she said in a sultry voice, and I heard a low mechanical vibrating noise. I slammed my laptop shut.
“What are you wearing, gorgeous?” I leaned back in my chair and unbuttoned my pants.
"One of my boyfriend's Harvard t-shirts. He has a lot, so I don't think he misses this one." I could hear the mischievous smile in her voice. I gripped my shaft using short tight strokes, picturing Lisa lying on her bed with her legs spread wearing my shirt.
“Your boyfriend went to Harvard? He must be a fucking genius.”
"He is, and he's very modest about it." She giggled.
“What are you wearing under that t-shirt?”
“Nothing,” she said in a breathy sigh and I could tell she was using the vibrator.
"Dirty fucking girl," I rasped as she began to moan.
We spent the next half hour having phone sex, after which Lisa sent me a photo of her vibrator covered in the shiny evidence of her arousal.
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