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Graveyard elbows me hard in the ribs. I straighten up. Right, we’re here for a reason.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Crestwood, I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” he says in his most professional tone. “My name is Dr. Graves and I work at the New Orleans Public Hospital. I’m the head of pediatric surgery.”
He pulls out his work badge and hands it to the man, who takes it cautiously. He observes it closely, clearly surprised.
“My apologies.” He hands the badge back to Graveyard. “What can I help you with today?”
“Well, this isn’t a matter I would usually handle myself, but it’s urgent. There’s a boy in my ward who’s fighting for his life and needs a transplant. It seems he was adopted at a young age. No one in his family is a match. I did a little digging, well, a lot of digging actually, and found your name. See, your son is his biological brother. He may be the only match.”
Graveyard delivers this speech so smoothly and silkily, I’d give him one of my organs. That’s not his aim, of course. He only wants to get us through the door. As far as I know, this kid doesn’t have a brother.
The man, Mr. Crestwood, doesn’t look as convinced, though. His eyes are narrowed at Graveyard and he looks angry.
“I’m afraid you’ve made a mistake,” he says in a deadly serious tone. “I don’t have a son.”
Well, that’s that. He took a shot and missed. But Graveyard smiles at him, undeterred.
“Mr. Crestwood, I’m a personal friend of Meredith De La Croix,” he tells the man. “I believe you know Meredith very well. I’ve recently helped her place one of her special children. As a favor, she shared this information with me. I understand that you have to be cautious. You and I both know what these kids are up against. But I assure you, I’m only here to help.”
Mr. Crestwood hesitates. Then I see him look back at something in the house. He takes a deep breath and moves aside, inviting us in. I honestly can’t believe it. That shouldn’t have worked.
“Any friend of Meredith’s is a friend of mine,” Mr. Crestwood says now, shutting the door behind him. “Call me Dale.” He holds his hand out to both of us to shake.
“Thank you, Dale,” Graveyard says in the same silky voice. “And I believe your son is named Jonathan, is that right?”
“You better come sit down,” he says, leading us into the living room.
“Actually, do you mind if I use your bathroom?” I ask sheepishly. “Sorry, it was a long drive out here.”
Dale eyes me warily but points me to the closest bathroom on the landing. I’m not sure what Graveyard needs from me, but I’m willing to bet he needs a little snooping done. I smile at Dale and head in the direction he’s pointed.
I hear the men talk as I head toward the bathroom. I open the door and turn on the light, then shut it carefully and walk as quietly as I can toward a slightly ajar door. As I peer inside, I see that it’s some kind of home office. Jackpot.
It’s a tidy space. Dozens of family pictures adorn the walls. Dale, his wife, and his son. This boy means the world to him. No wonder he wouldn’t answer the door. As I look closer at the pictures, something nags me. The boy looks so familiar, but I can’t place him. I take a picture of the photo and send it to Snake to be safe.
I don’t want Dale to get suspicious, though. I sneak back out and head toward the bathroom. I slip back inside quietly and flush the toilet for good measure. I wash my hands to sell it. When I emerge, I hear Dale talking in an urgent tone. He sounds angry.
“Look, I appreciate that the kid is sick, but there’s nothing I can do. I have done everything I can in my power to protect my son. There’s no way I’ll put him at risk now.”
“I understand,” Graveyard says smoothly. “As his parent, you have full rights to refuse, and I respect that.”
“Well, if that’s all,” Dale says, eyeing me suspiciously as I take a seat on the sofa next to Graveyard.
I’m about to get up, since Dale clearly wants us out, but Graveyard sits there unmoving, eyeing the man.
“Actually, there is one more thing,” he says in a serious tone that makes Dale sit back down. “Meredith is in some trouble. As her friend, I know that someone is trying to set her up, but she won’t talk to me. She’s willing to take the fall for a crime she didn’t commit.”
Dale’s expression changes to worry and he collapses on the sofa. “I worried something like this would happen,” he says with a heavy sigh. “That girl was always putting herself in danger.”
“She really cares for the kids she helps,” Graveyard affirms. “She’s a good person. I don’t want to see her sent to prison for the rest of her life. Is there anything you can tell me about Jonathan’s adoption?”
“She knows much more about it than I do,” he answers in a resigned tone. “She arranged everything. My wife and I just signed the papers. She warned us to keep a low profile, and that was it. I haven’t heard from her since everything was finalized.”
I look between the two men and realize how deeply they both care for her. Sure, I expect it from Dale. Meredith is responsible for bringing his son into his life. But it surprises me coming from Graveyard. I’ve never known him to seriously care for any woman. Not for as long as I’ve known him. This situation is deeply personal for him.
Graveyard is distressed. I can tell by the slight change in his posture, but he doesn’t let it show to Dale. He merely smiles and thanks the man. Dale shows us out, and I hear the sound of several locks being done up as we leave.
I’m about to comment on what a waste of time that was when my phone pings in my pocket.
