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With Alex not showing up over the weekend or yesterday, I pray the kid is in school. I crank the truck and head in that direction. I can’t talk to Tinley right now because we can’t seem to have a conversation without blowing up at each other, but I know there’s information I can obtain from Mike Branford.
After talking with Wren last night, I woke to an email filled with family law rules in Texas. I spent the better part of my morning familiarizing myself with the information, and I’m confident I’m going to walk away from the school today with exactly what I need.
I hate building a case against Tinley, and I only plan to use it if I’m forced to so, but this isn’t about the love I once had for a girl. My son has become my number one priority in my life, and there’s no way I can leave him in a volatile situation. It’s only a matter of time before he gets arrested or worse, killed because of the work he’s doing for Cedric Ramirez. I can’t stand by and let that happen.
A light, afternoon drizzle is falling from the sky, making steam rise up from the cracked asphalt parking lot as I walk toward the school. The humidity in Texas is something I never wanted to experience again, and if things go my way, I won’t have to deal with it much longer.
The same receptionist glares at me from her desk chair, but her hand is picking up the phone before I can even open my mouth to make my request.
“He’s helping out in a class right now,” she explains as she lowers the receiver. “You’ll have to wait a while.”
I nod in understanding and take a seat. The chairs are empty this afternoon, but I know that probably won’t last long. I sit in the middle spot instead of possibly forcing two kids who may have issues with each other to sit side by side. I know I would’ve hated that as a kid and would probably have ended up in another altercation in the middle of the office if I was forced to do so.
Five minutes turns into fifteen, and then into forty-five. The overhead bells ring three different times, and Mike Branford never darkens the door. I replay the way he looked at me, the way he spoke about Alex that first day, and it hits me that he either knows for sure, or suspects that he’s my son. I’m sure he’s had enough interactions with Tinley because of Alex’s behavior to realize who she is. We were inseparable in high school, and Mike’s science class was no different. I loved his class in particular because instead of desks, the room was filled with workstations—a long table with two independent chairs. It meant I could pull her close, position her chair between my legs so she could lean against my chest comfortably for the entire class period. If he knows who Tinley is, then he knows Alex is mine. That may be the reason he leaves me sitting in the front office waiting for him until the final bell of the day echoes through the halls and all the kids hustle to get away until they have to do it all over again tomorrow.
Another half hour goes by before the receptionist assures me that he’s on his way before gathering her things to leave for the day herself.
The school is eerily quiet, and it makes me think back to the time several of us broke into the building to vandalize it. I’m not proud now of the things I did back then, but I can admit that I had fun while it was happening. The thrill of getting caught while doing something that bad made me want to seek that adrenaline rush over and over. I was a holy damn terror back in the day.
“You’re still here?” Mike asks as he walks in, offering his hand to shake.
“Hoping I’d be gone already?”
He huffs a humorless laugh.
“You know why I’m here.”
“I imagine you came back and found some things out. Sorry to hear about your grandfather.”
I haven’t thought about the reason that brought me down here in days. Mateo Costa was cremated after he passed last week, and I’m pretty sure I’m going to leave his ashes behind in the house with all of his other possessions when I leave town again.
“I’m not here to talk about him. I want to know about Alex. Did you know he was my son?”
“I suspected,” Mike says as he walks through the front room toward his own office. He stops by a filing cabinet, pulling a thick file before settling behind his desk. “Tinley all but confirmed it the last time he got into trouble.”
“You didn’t call me or tell me?”
