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“Keep the door locked, stay inside, don’t go close to the windows,” she whines in a tired, sing-song voice. “Yeah, I got it, Chief. I’ll behave.”
“You better,” I say, and close the door behind me.
I don’t move until I hear her turn the key from the inside. And even after the sound of her bare feet padding across the floor fades away, I stay rooted to the spot. Because I’m not looking forward to what I have to do next.
I take a few deep breaths, clenching and unclenching my fists. Like a fighter getting ready for a championship bout. “You got this, Peter,” I mumble to myself.
I don’t care what I must look like, doing this in the middle of the hall; it’s helping. It calms me down and clears my head. That’s why I always psych myself up like this when I’m about to see my dad.
The car dealership is having a busy morning and I have to park quite a distance from the doors. As I make my way to the entrance, I’m assaulted by colorful balloons, loud music, and appetizing smells wafting out of the taco truck set up in the parking lot. It’s like a party out here, with sales guys all over, charming the customers with impressive specs and low, low prices.
And to think, this was almost my legacy. To say that my dad was mad at me when I cut ties with him is an understatement. For years, the rift between us has weighed me down, but now I have a little perspective. If I didn’t walk away from him back then and make a career for myself as a cop, I wouldn’t have walked into the station that night and I wouldn’t have reconnected with Emily.
A caustic laugh bubbles inside of me. Can it be? My dad played a role in Emily and me being together? It’s insane. Almost as insane as I am for coming back here to ask for his help. I hate that I have to do it. I hate that there are times when I still need him. But if it works out, then I won’t have been lying to Emily before when I told her I had a lead.
“Was that a pig that just went flying past?”
I’m caught off guard by my dad standing at the open trunk of a Lincoln SUV. I wasn’t expecting to run into him out here. I thought I’d have the time it took to get inside, ask for his office, and knock on his door to get my wits about me.
“I think you’re right,” I say, and offer him my hand.
Treating him with any kind of civility grates my last nerve, but I know I have to play nice if I plan to get any information out of him. A part of me silently hopes that he’s learned how to do the same over the years.
He looks at my outstretched hand, but doesn’t take it. Instead, he turns to the customer he was dealing with and says, “If you’d excuse me for a moment.”
My dad motions with his head for me to follow him and goes off in the direction of the building.
“If you’re here for a kidney, you’re on your own,” my dad says as we walk into his office.
I’m surprised by how tidy it is. There’s a family picture hanging on the wall. There’s no one in it that I know, aside from my dad. Something squeezes in my chest, but I brush it aside. The neatness of his desk puts mine to shame. It’s all very out of character for the man who I remember as being fine with leaving his worn underwear in the middle of the bathroom floor.
I want to tell him that I wouldn’t come to him for a kidney if he was my last hope, but instead I just say, “It’s about a case I’m working on.”
He nods and sits down behind his desk. I take the seat opposite him, even though he didn’t offer it to me. “Well? What do you need?”
That’s it. No pleasantries. No, How have you been, Peter? I haven’t seen you in years. How is life treating you?
I’d be lying if I said I’d expected anything different. Right now I’m just relieved he hasn’t sent me on my way.
&
nbsp; “We’re trying to trace a potentially dangerous man,” I say. I can’t give him too many details, but I know I have to make him understand how important this is. “He drives a Mazda 2, and our records show that only a few have been sold in the Boston area over the past four years. This dealership is the only one in our trace radius, so it’s more than likely he got it here.”
“Makes sense. Now, if you don’t mind cutting to the chase, Petey, as you saw outside I’m kinda busy.”
I clench my jaw so tightly, a spark of pain shoots down my neck. I’ve always hated it when he called me that.
“I’m working a lead and need you to give me your sales records for the—”
“Do you have a warrant?”
My mind flashes red. I can’t believe this man. The anger and irritation building up inside me are becoming more and more difficult to keep at bay. It was hard enough coming over here in the first place, and now he has to be an asshole on top of it.
“We’re working on it,” I say, keeping an even tone. “I just thought in the meantime, if you could—”
“Petey, Petey, Petey,” he says, shaking his head in mock disappointment as he leans back in his chair and sets his feet on his desk. “And here I thought you were this upstanding, law-abiding citizen. You know you have no right to my data without a court order.”
“This is urgent. The warrant is coming, I’ll send it right over when it does. But it doesn’t make sense to waste time waiting around for it when you can just give me the records now.”
