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“Yup, it’s me. Just a little taller.” I chuckle.
“Careful. You’re going to make me feel like an old man.”
“Sorry,” I cringe, “However, it is nice to see you.” I hug him briefly before he motions for me to follow him. While we walk, I notice a few curious glances from the officers we pass, though no one says anything; they all go back to their business. Ken walks us down to the row of offices along the back wall. He steps inside, and I walk past him, sitting in the chair in front of his desk.
“Can I get you something? Coffee or soda?”
“No, thanks. I don't want to take up too much of your time.”
He’s like the former version of my dad: put together nicely, clothes freshly pressed, face newly shaved. I glance over the framed photos on the table behind him. His wife and kids. I remember them a little, catching fireflies on summer nights after one of our dads grilled burgers. Life was different back then. Easy. Peaceful. Sometimes I miss it.
Right away, he sighs. “I bet I can guess what you're here for, and trust me when I say it’s not how I wanted things to go down. I did my best to speak up for him. I truly did.”
Oh no. I get the feeling more is going on here than even I know. “Okay, so I feel kind of stupid admitting this, but I don't know what you're talking about.”
His brow creases with confusion. “I assumed… never mind. Let's back up and start from the beginning. What’s going on? Why are you here?”
“Well, I know you saw him last week. Or at least, he told me he was supposed to see you.”
“Yeah. I saw him,” he confirms. Nothing about the manner in which he says it gives me an inkling of what happened.
“He told me about his investigation.” I don't mean to sound condescending or judgmental, I can't help it. There's a definite change in my voice when I say it, and I can’t be bothered to cover it up.
His jaw tightens as he leans back in his chair, squeaking beneath his weight. “That damn investigation of his. I've never seen a man so consumed with something in my entire life.”
I let out a sigh of relief. “Okay, good. You know about it.”
He snorts, shrugging his broad shoulders. “Yes. In fact, that investigation is why he lost his job.”
The floor falls beneath my feet. Wait. What? I wasn’t expecting that. I’m not even sure I’ve heard what he said correctly until I play it back in my mind. Even then, I have to ask him to repeat it.
“What did you say?” The words are a squeak, the sort of sound a scared little mouse makes.
His gaze widens. “Okay, that’s what you meant when you said you didn’t know what I was talking about. He didn’t tell you?”
“No. He didn’t tell me. I had no idea he was fired.”
“Kiddo, look, I’m sorry.” His eyes dart over my face as he stands and rounds the desk. “It was a few weeks ago.”
Weeks? That means he’s been leaving the house and pretending to go to work for weeks. “I... I... I need...” The room really needs to stop spinning, that's what.
My lungs burn. I can’t breathe. I can’t even think. I feel like I don’t even know my father, and in a way I guess I don’t. This side of him, at least. This obsessed, crazed side of him was something I never knew existed, and now it’s costing him everything.
“Hold on. Let me get you a bottle of water. Stay put.”
I'm not going anywhere. Not on shaky legs or when I can hardly take a normal breath. Fired. How? He loved his job so much. That only seems to open another door of questions.
Why didn't he tell me? I can feel myself spiraling down a vast dark hole. He's been lying to me all this time. I don't even know what to do with this information. Like how could he go on pretending he was working this whole time? If he’s not going to work, where the hell is he going? What’s he doing?
Ken reappears and presses a cold bottle of water into my hand. “Here you go, and as I said, I'm so sorry. I figured he would’ve told you by now.”
I take a sip and try not to spill, thanks to my shaking hands. “I apologize. I’m just… shocked. I can't make sense of it. How? Why? What happened?”
Rather than return to his chair, he perches on the corner of his desk and sighs. “As you said, he had his investigation.”
This damned investigation. “Right. He told me about it, everything he thinks happened.”
“That's all I ever heard about for a long time.” He strokes his jaw, and I can see the pain in his eyes. It rings through his words just as plainly. The two of them were so close, like brothers—I used to call him Uncle Ken when I was too young to understand we weren't actually related. “Your mom.. Jessica. He’d always go on and on about finding the proof and revealing who killed her.”
