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If Julie knew I was here, she would kill me. But I had to get to the bottom of this myself. The investigator had reluctantly given me the mother’s name: Martha Martin. The rest I did myself with a little web search.
“You don’t know that.” She wasn’t backing down.
We waited while the coffee was served until we resumed our argument. “I know that kid has had a shitty life. He’s been in and out of foster homes. He didn’t have clothes. He wasn’t eating. Shit, he barely spoke a sentence when I met him. But you know what? He’s happy now. And you’re crazy as hell if you think I’m going to let you ruin that with some kind of insane claim.”
She leaned over the table. “You think the courts are going to take your side over mine?”
“It’s not going to get that far. Name your price. I know that’s why you’re really here.”
“Excuse me?”
“Don’t pretend you’re shocked. I know bullshit. Fuck, I invented bullshit. Hunter isn’t your kid. You saw him on TV. You saw the story on how I’m trying to adopt him and you thought you could cash in on that.”
Her eyes darted wildly.
She was caught.
I pulled out a file I had received from the lead investigator and slapped it on the table. “In here is a list of some of your pettier crimes. Check fraud. Shop lifting. I think I saw an attempted breaking and entering. Drugs. So I’m going to put my money on the fact that this was the biggest opportunity you’d ever seen and you thought you could walk away with some serious money.”
“I lost my son three years ago,” she spoke slowly. “How can you say any of this to me?”
I nodded. “I know. I’m sorry about that. I can’t imagine what it’s like to lose a child. But you know what that feels like. So why in God’s name would you try to put me through it?” I sat for a minute before I continued. “I’ll write you a check right now. A huge check. You take it and cash it in the morning and then you call the police and tell them you were mistaken. That you were so emotional you made a mistake.”
I pulled out my checkbook. I wrote in the date and her name on the top line.
“But what if he is mine?” She looked at me.
“Martha, we both know that Hunter isn’t yours.”
She closed her eyes and nodded.
“Martha, where is your son?” I pressed.
She sighed. “I don’t know. Really, I don’t. But I think with his father. Maybe in Florida? That’s where he always said he’d take him. He said I had to sober up.” She started to break down, the fierceness from before diminishing, she knew she’d lost. “Are you going to call the police?”
The woman had a hard face. The kind that told the story of her life. I’d seen the same look on my own mother.
“I’m not going to report you. I’m not even going to consider this extortion. This is a gift from me to you.” I made sure there were lots of zeros on
the end before tearing it from the book.
I handed it to her.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked, her voice shaky. “Why would you help?”
“Because. I’d do anything in this world for that kid. I haven’t always been like this. I’ve made mistakes. Maybe more mistakes than you. And I’m trying to help you from making any more. Start over, Martha. Start over. Make your son proud of you.”
She teared up and folded the check, tucking it inside her shirt.
“Thank you,” she whispered and then walked out of the diner.
I sat across from the empty booth and finished drinking my coffee.
When I walked through the door at the loft Julie jumped from the couch. Hunter was asleep with a book across his chest.
“Where have you been?” she questioned me.
“It’s a long story.” I hung up my coat. “But I took care of everything. We don’t have to worry about losing Hunter,” I whispered.
