by Leigh Irwin
“There was a piece of paper with Keith’s handwriting on it,” I said. My stomach did its familiar clench. Emma spoke up.
“Mom, I recognized Dad’s handwriting right away. There’s no doubt. Dad wrote something like “Delivery Times” or “Deadlines” or something like that. I can’t remember exactly what it said. Next to that, it said “Shanghai Airport,” but it was a longer name than that, and then there were also some dates…”
No one moved or said anything. I felt my heart hammering in my chest. Suddenly, Pam sat bolt upright in her chair.
“Where is everything now?” Pam asked.
“The thing is, we just don’t know,” I cried. “And the worst part is we gave it all to Mom, and she and Dad were fighting about it right before he pushed her. Maybe she’d still be alive if we hadn’t given that stuff to her!” My eyes welled, and I felt tears slide down my cheeks. Pam crossed the room, squeezed onto the couch between Emma and me, and put an arm around each of us.
“You poor girls! Why didn’t you say something before now?”
“I don’t know. We were too upset to think straight, I guess,” I said, wiping my wet cheeks with the back of my hand. “Also, we didn’t want anyone else to get hurt because of what we found.”
“Mom, I thought about telling you, but it always seemed like it would just make everything worse,” said Emma. “But now I don’t see how things could possibly get any worse. The problem is, now we really don’t know where all that stuff is. And maybe no one will believe us…” Emma laid her head on her mom’s shoulder. We sat close together like that for several minutes, before Pam stirred and slowly stood.
“I believe you. Don’t worry about that—ever,” she said, looking at each of us seriously. “Thank you for telling me about this,” she said, her voice deathly quiet.
“What’s going to happen now?” I asked fearfully. Pam didn’t answer.
“Mom?” Emma spoke up. “Are we in trouble?” Pam looked at us kindly and shook her head.
“First, I’m going to find us a very good attorney. Then I’m going to discuss it with him or her. In the meantime, the three of us are sharing a big secret, one that we will not divulge to anyone until I know it’s safe. Understood?” My mouth dropped open, and I felt dizzy. I didn’t know if it was from relief or fear. Emma had gone pale. Pam repeated, “Understood?” We both nodded mutely.
The next morning, Pam dropped us off at the bus stop and then continued on her way. She’d already arranged to meet with an attorney, and I hoped she’d have good news by the time we got home that night.
At noon, James and I went through the cafeteria line together, found an empty table and sat. We split our lunches, each taking half of the other’s choice.
“You’re awfully quiet today. Is everything okay?” James asked through a mouthful of spaghetti. I nodded and spooned up some chili, idly watching steam rise from it before bringing it to my mouth. It burned all the way down, and my eyes watered. I gulped some water.
“I’m just kind of worried about my Geometry test this afternoon. I didn’t really study for it,” I lied. I hated to lie to him, but I definitely couldn’t tell him the truth: My dad’s a spy for the Chinese, and so is Emma’s. And by the way, Emma and I might be mixed up in it, too.
James seemed reassured by my answer and continued wolfing down his food. I picked at my lunch and listened to him talk about the surfing competition he’d entered. It was in San Diego, and his family would all be going, driving down after school on Friday. He was bubbling over with excitement. I watched him, loving the way his dimple came and went as his expressions changed. What would I do without James? He made me feel normal, like the world wasn’t totally spinning out of control.
Chapter 31
I glanced at the stars flickering above us in the velvety, dark blue sky as Emma and I walked home from the bus stop that evening, loaded down with our textbooks and soccer gear. A sliver of moon already gleamed brightly above, and lights sparkled along the coastline as far north as Malibu. I barely noticed. I sensed Emma’s nervous energy, and it heightened my own. It was amazing how well we knew each other. We read each other’s thoughts and emotions without having to say a word.
A fragrant, spicy smell greeted us as we came through the front door. Lights were blazing throughout the house, and we heard music in the background. At this time of year, our daily walk home was always after dark. Usually it didn’t bother me. I often used the walk as a buffer, a break between school and home, time to gather my thoughts and be alone with them. But tonight I was anxious. I’d been worrying about Pam’s meeting with our new attorney all day. Emma and I had kept our thoughts to ourselves all day, and the tension was getting to both of us.
Pam was at the stove, stirring something in a big pot. She looked up at us and smiled as we dropped our backpacks on the floor in a heap. We sat at the kitchen counter across from her.
“I met with an attorney today,” she said, stirring absently. Steam rose from the bubbling pot, sending a thin veil of moisture into the air. I watched it rise and evaporate before focusing on Pam’s face. She looked tired, but her eyes sparkled, and I was happy to note her old energy seemed to have returned.
“What did he say?” Emma asked.
“You mean she,” Pam corrected. “She’ll need to interview both of you sooner rather than later. And she’ll be the one coordinating with your dads’ attorneys from now on.
“Does that mean I have to see Dad?” I asked, feeling icy anger build inside me. “I don’t ever want to see him again!”
“I’m sure you won’t have to, unless and until there’s a trial, and maybe not even then,” Pam said, looking at me gravely. “The same goes for you, Emma.”
“But what if I want to see him?” Emma asked, a hitch in her voice.
“That’s your decision to make—if and when your dad is allowed visitors. I won’t stop you.” Pam’s tone hinted disapproval. Emma looked down, tracing the pattern in the countertop tile with a finger.
“But most important of all, the attorney doesn’t think any of us is involved in any wrongdoing; we’re innocent bystanders. And that evidence you girls found may actually be helpful…”
“But we don’t have any idea where it is!” I interrupted.
“Don’t worry about that. First of all, there’s plenty of other evidence that will demonstrate what your fathers have been up to. Second, the FBI has already sealed up your house, Sam, and they’re probably searching it this very moment,” Pam concluded.
“We didn’t see anything going on when we came home just now,” Emma challenged. “There weren’t even any lights on inside.”
Pam raised her eyebrows. “Really? You don’t think the FBI could sneak around and hide themselves if they wanted to?” Pam grinned at Emma and me. We giggled nervously.
“Anyway, back to what I learned today,” she said as she turned off the stove. “That stuff you found—which will almost certainly be found again—gives us a bargaining chip if we ever need one, and it’ll definitely be valuable to the FBI,” Pam said with a smile. She walked to the refrigerator, pulled a bottle of white wine out, uncorked it and poured herself a glass.
Life slowly settled into a new routine with my new family, Pam and Emma. We were adjusting to each other in fits and starts, but already the sense of futility that had overwhelmed me was fading. I was surprised to find that I could go for hours at a time without thinking about Mom or Dad. As far as Mom was concerned, I felt guilty, still blaming myself for getting her involved. I couldn’t get over feeling partially responsible for her death. When time passed without me thinking of her, I worried I was already forgetting her. Was it really that easy?
But when it came to Dad, I was grateful to put him out of my mind. My last sight of him, fleeing into the canyon in terror, the look of animal fear on his face, still came to me unbidden. I doubted I’d ever reconcile myself to having a father who was a murderer and a spy, one who had upended my entire life in one flash of fury. Any love I still felt
for him was buried under the weight of a smoldering anger that seemed as heavy and permanent as the ground that covered my mother’s grave.
Pam kept up a brave front for Emma and me, but the strain of losing her husband and the life they’d shared for so long took its toll. More than once, I heard her sobbing in her room late at night. I saw her drawn, worried expression in unguarded moments, and I longed to comfort her, knowing deep down that there was very little I could do to ease her pain.
Pam shielded Emma and me from most of the developments in our fathers’ cases, attending every meeting and hearing as our proxy. She protected us as well as she could from prying eyes and the publicity that flared and waned with each new stage of their cases.
Aside from one interview each with the FBI, Emma and I had little actual involvement. Pam did tell us when the FBI found the evidence Mom had hidden. Mom had put Keith’s handwritten note in one of the shoeboxes in her closet, wadded up and stuffed into the toe of a shoe, covering it with the original tissue. The blue folder and the reports weren’t hard to find. She’d placed them in the bookcase, right next to the book Dad had copied.
Her most ingenious hiding place was reserved for the two bundles of money. About a week after Dad bought his red convertible, he got himself a brand new set of golf clubs. Mom knew Dad was something of a packrat; in fact, he had trouble throwing anything away, even if it was broken. His old set of clubs was still out in the garage, tucked away behind a broken lawnmower and an assortment of brooms and rusty shovels.
Mom had cut a slit into the bottom of his old, black golf bag, shoved the two bundles of money inside, and taped the opening closed with black electrical tape. The repair was nearly invisible.
Pam loved telling us that story. Her eyes gleamed with admiration for my mother’s courage and spirit, and I swelled with pride at the love and ingenuity she’d shown. Mom had protected me to the end, never divulging her secret hiding places, bravely facing Dad down.
According to the FBI, there was $400,000 between those two bundles. I had trouble envisioning that much cash, even though I’d seen it with my own eyes.
School was still a challenge. Emma and I had become something of celebrities around campus. The whispering and stares from kids neither one of us knew were annoying, but the subtle change in attitude from our teammates and classmates made us feel like bugs under a microscope. It was as if we were on display at all times, and it sapped my energy. I longed to be invisible, just one more face at school who looked vaguely familiar, but was largely ignored.
Emma and I had taken to studying together at the kitchen table at night. It was comforting having her close by, and it also helped me focus on my homework. My grades had slipped quite a bit, and so had hers, not surprisingly. Pam usually sat close by, in the den reading or working, the third person in our silent study group.
James and his family also became a source of strength as time went on. I was at his house most weekends, and I loved the happy frenzy of his family life. His parents welcomed me warmly whenever I visited. Janie had adopted me, calling me her big sister, and she hung on my every word. The simple joy on her face as she raced to hug me was infectious.
Janie made it easy to forget my worries. I entered her world of make believe, a rich environment filled with princesses and dragons, talking animals and evil sorcerers. We ruled our kingdom from our “castle”, constructed out of sheets and blankets, draped over the living room furniture. James was happy to be let off the hook, tired of the roles Janie insisted he play in her ongoing saga. He often left us to our own devices, using the time Janie and I were together to study or play video games.
“Hey Janie, it’s my turn to spend some time with Sam now,” James said one afternoon, pulling me to my feet. “You can’t hog her attention all the time!” At first, Janie looked at him petulantly, but then she grinned and ducked back inside her castle.
“Let’s get out of here for a while,” James suggested. I nodded. We closed the front door behind us, and I took a deep breath of the cool late afternoon air.
Chapter 32
We followed a winding street that led to the edge of the sheer cliffs that defined the Palos Verdes Peninsula. A decomposed granite pathway followed the ragged edge of the coast for miles in both directions, broken up here and there by picnic tables and benches. We settled onto a large boulder overlooking a deserted cove, where waves broke against the rocky shoreline hundreds of feet below us. The ocean continued its relentless process of carving away the land inch by inch, as it had for eons. The sounds of the tide washing over the rocks below and the calls of seagulls were the only sounds.
James kissed me, and I melted, like I always did. I was startled by the longing I felt whenever we were alone together, like I couldn’t get close enough to him. It was wonderful and frustrating at the same time.
I saw the way his parents looked at each other whenever we headed down the hall to his bedroom, a knowing look that silently communicated their disapproval. So far, we’d been left undisturbed, but since there was no lock on James’ bedroom door, there was no guarantee that one of them or Janie wouldn’t burst in unannounced. That, more than anything else, kept most of our clothing intact, although we were both ready for much more.
“So what’s happening in the cases these days?” James asked. His questions never seemed intrusive, unlike those of the occasional teammate or well-meaning friend. I welcomed his interest for what it was, an opportunity to unburden myself without fear. His questioning also helped me analyze and bring order to the complex patchwork of hearings and news reports that still reached me, despite Pam’s best efforts to shield me from their grittiness.
“Dad will probably take a plea bargain on Mom’s murder. Pam said his attorney, the police and the FBI have been working on something for the past couple of weeks. Whatever it is, he won’t be out of prison for years, which is just fine with me.” I chewed on a fingernail pensively.
“Think you’ll ever want to visit him?” James asked. It was a sore subject, not because James nagged me about it; he didn’t. The problem was that I seemed to be growing more conflicted every day.
“I used to think I never wanted to see him again, but lately, part of me wants to look him in the eye and ask how he could have done what he did. I don’t expect him to have an answer, though, so what’s the point?”
“Well, there’s no rush.” James rested a hand on my knee, and we sat silently for a few minutes. How’s Emma doing?” James asked, bringing me back to the present.
“She’s the same as me for the most part, except she does want to see her dad.”
“I can understand that. I’m sure I’d have millions of questions,” said James.
“Yeah, it still seems unreal. For a long time, we were both convinced that Keith couldn’t possibly be a part of that China business. But then, he helped Dad escape, and we found out he was actually the master spy, not my dad.”
I’m still not clear why Keith would help your dad,” said James bluntly. “He had a nice life, plenty of money and tons of friends. Why would he risk all that for your dad?” James’ brow furrowed in concentration.
“Partially at least, it was because he’d always felt so insecure,” I added.
“Insecure? What’s that got to do with it?”
“The other day, Pam told us more about the early part of their marriage, before they had Emma. I think you know that Pam’s parents are super wealthy?”
“I seem to remember something about Pam having a large trust fund,” replied James.
“Yep. Her parents have this huge mansion up north in Marin County, and Pam’s their only child. When she and Keith first met, Keith was just finishing his Masters degree in engineering at UC Berkeley, and Pam was still an undergrad. They got married as soon as she graduated, but her parents never approved of him. Pam said they’d always expected her to marry someone as rich or richer than they were. And that wasn’t Keith.
“Keith’s family wasn’t exactly poor; they were
more like lower middle class. Keith got through college and grad school mostly on scholarships and loans. But according to Pam, Keith felt inferior from the beginning of their relationship, because of her rich parents. Pam didn’t think it was an issue—and she still doesn’t.
“When they first got married, they fought about money all the time. Not like my parents, though. Keith didn’t want to take even one penny from Pam’s family or her trust. That’s the way they’ve lived for years, struggling along on the salaries of an aerospace engineer and a top lawyer,” I said, punching James on the shoulder and smirking.
“Tough life, I guess,” James replied with a grin.
“But the issue was still there. Pam said she never realized how much of a problem it was for him. Their lives went along just fine, until now,” I concluded.
“So, are you saying that Keith turned into a spy for the money? That seems like a stretch to me,” said James, not understanding. I didn’t get it either, but there was no way to know exactly how someone else felt. I thought again about Dad. I’d never understand him.
“The money seems like a non-issue to me, too, but apparently it wasn’t to Keith.”
“Even if I wanted to turn into a spy, I wouldn’t have any idea how to go about it,” James mused. I chuckled bitterly.
“That’s where the FBI woman who interviewed me really helped. She said the Chinese have been using pretty much the same recruitment process for years. They target poor US students living or traveling in China and offer them stupid amounts of money to write meaningless reports for them. They also set them up in apartments, wine and dine them, and sometimes even find ‘girlfriends’ for them while they’re living in China.” I glanced at James. “A lot of this sounds very familiar, doesn’t it?” James nodded silently, his eyes riveted on me. “So by the time Keith got back to the US, they’d already hooked him. At first, he used the money to pay off his college bills and had money to spare for grad school.”
