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“Steroids?” I look up. “My dad wasn’t juicing.”
He looks at me, expression blank.
“What?” I ask when I can see he wants to say something.
“Well…”
“Well what?”
He rubs his chin andI can tell whatever he’s thinking is uncomfortable.
“Whatever it is, just say it.”
“I’ve heard of older men taking steroids when they are with younger women. You know, to feel more confident and boost their sex drive.”
“Stop.” I shake my head.
“Sorry, but it’s true.”
“My dad wasn’t having sex with a younger woman, Cruz.”
“How do you know?” he questions.
“He wasn’t. I’d know.”
“We don’t always know the secrets of our parents, Ellery. And didn’t you say the media stories after he died were filled with that rumor?”
“Yes,” I look down at the report. “But it was a lie.”
“How do you know?”
I close my eyes for a moment and consider the question. I don’t know if it’s true. But something in my gut says it’s not.
“Let’s say he was having an affair.” I open my eyes and look up. “That number seems to be pretty high.”
He nods in agreement. “It does. But I’m not an expert. I do, however, know of one that can tell us if it is.”
“You do?” I ask.
“Sure.” He folds his arms over his chest. “Steroids are a big problem in sports. We get tested all the time.”
“You do?” I find myself asking for a second time.
“Yeah,” he nods. “Especially during the playoffs. I’m sure if we contact the lab the team uses they can tell us which ranges are normal and which are not. Copy it like you did with the file in the DA’s office and let’s get out of here. I don’t want to stay here much longer. This place gives me the creeps.”
“Okay.” I close the file. “Be right back.”
I look around and after finding a copy machine in what looks like a supply room, I make copies of the entire report, except the photos. Cruz is right. There are some things I just don’t need to see.
When I’m done, I return the file to the cabinet and hurry back over to Cruz who looks like he’s ready to bolt. He pushes the door open gently, looks up and down the hall to make sure the coast is clear and when it is, grabs my hand and hurries down thehall.
Once we’re back in the afternoon sun, we look at one another and exhale in relief. “Library?” I ask and he nods gratefully.
Thankfully, the library isn’t as nerve wracking as our trip to City Hall. I make copies of all the stories that I can find published around the time of my father’s death, and when I’m done, we head home.
I should feel proud because I got what I came for. But staring at the stack of papers on my lap, I can’t help but feel anxious.
“We’ll figure it out,” Cruz says, as if reading my mind.
