Chapter 41

 

 

            A.J. spent Saturday morning at the Simon and Simon office, then headed for home at noon.  He let Toby out when he got there.  A.J. didn't have Rex staying at his home as he assumed he might.  Rick had made no mention of the dog, so had evidently left the golden retriever with his neighbor, Clarissa. 

 

             A.J. looked through his mail while waiting by the door for Toby.   Another letter had arrived addressed to Shane. That made the third one since the boy no longer spent time in the house on the Grand Canal.  A.J. chastised himself and made a vow he'd get the letters to Shane sometime during the next week.  Not that he expected the nine-year- old would be willing to see him.  He remembered all too well what he'd said to the boy that night of Shane's visit.  No longer did either Shane or Tanner leave messages on A.J.’s answering machine. 

 

            The blond man pushed thoughts of his former stepsons aside. He had loved those boys so much.  He still did love them.  Losing contact with them was almost as hard as losing Lauren.  But A.J. knew he'd created the rift between them and himself, and he could honestly say he didn't care to mend it.  Seeing them would be too hard.  They reminded him too much of their mother. 

 

            A.J. let Toby back in, while at the same time deciding he'd drop Shane's mail in a bigger envelope, put Rob Albright's address on it, and mail it from his local post office.  That task would have to wait until Monday, however, when A.J. returned to the office where he kept legal sized manila envelopes.

 

            The blond man played the messages on his answering machine.  He wasn't surprised to discover that Town, Jerry, Lindy, his cousin Kevin Simon, Mac and Annette McAllister, and an old college buddy had issued a vast array of invitations covering the next four days.  No doubt Rick had gotten the word out A.J. was going to be alone for a few days.  A.J. wanted to be mad at his brother, but he knew this ‘babysitting service’ Rick had set up was simply to give the eldest Simon peace of mind regarding A.J. being left by himself for the first time since Lauren's death.

 

            The detective made no effort to return any calls right now.  Maybe later in the afternoon he'd take someone up on his or her invitation, but he had no desire to make a commitment at this moment.  He planned to paint his spare room and didn't want to have to stop before he was ready.

 

            A.J. went out to the garage and grabbed off the shelf a brand new can of paint labeled Oyster Shell, which Rick would have said was a fancy name for beige.  He picked up a brush and a can of solvent that would dissolve the paste that held the wallpaper in place.  He retrieved a stack of newspapers to use as drop cloths then headed up the stairs.  He set his burdens in front of the closed door of the nursery and then turned for his room.  He dug through the stacks of clothes scattered from the doorway to the master bath.  He plucked up a pair of paint stained Levis and an old T-shirt, and exchanged them with the jeans and T-shirt he was wearing.  Without allowing himself to think about his destination, or what he was going to do when he got there, A.J. walked down the hall.

 

            The detective paused for a long moment with his hand on the nursery's doorknob.  When he finally stepped inside the room the smiling horses brought all his pain and misery back in a way he hadn't felt it for several weeks now.  He couldn't bear the thought of taking down that wallpaper, any more than he could bear the thought of covering up the pale peach walls.  Lauren had picked out the decor for this room.  She had designed it for their baby.  To change it all was like burying his wife and child for a second time.

 

            A.J. swiped at the tears running down his face.  He turned and fled the room, tripping over the paint can he had setting in the hall.  He scrambled to his feet and kept on going.  He knew his liquor cabinet was almost empty.  He hadn't gone on a drinking binge in almost three weeks.  That was all about to change, though, as he gunned the Grand Am's engine and tore out into the street.  

 

______________________________________

 

 

            The detective returned home an hour later.  He carried two brown grocery bags, one full of whiskey and bourbon, the other full of beer.  He fumbled for his key and inserted it in the lock on the knob.  He didn't need to use his other key for the deadbolt.  He'd never thrown it when he'd fled the house.

 

            A.J. took one step into his kitchen and stopped in his tracks.

 

            "Tanner...what the..." The blond man kicked the door closed and then moved to the table and dropped the bags.  "What are you doing here?  How'd you get in?"

            Tanner, who would turn seven two days before Thanksgiving and was in the second grade now, stood on the bottom step of the step-stool he'd pulled over in front of the sink.  He had one of his mother's aprons wrapped three times around his skinny waist.  Warm water was running in the kitchen sink, and the door to the dishwasher was open.  Toby looked up from where he sat on the floor beside the step-stool. 

 

            "Tanner?"

            "Hi, A.J.  I'm cleaning."  The boy, with arms sunk elbow deep in sudsy water, looked around and with his usual blunt honesty declared,  "Man, this place is sure a mess."

 

            "Yes, well...I've been busy lately."

 

            A.J. walked over and lifted the boy off the stool.  He untied the apron and laid it on the counter.  He shut the water off at the sink, shut the door on the dishwasher and grabbed a towel.  "Here.  Dry your hands and arms."

            The redhead did as he was instructed, then handed the towel back to A.J. 

 

            "Now I repeat, how'd you get in here?"

            Tanner reached into his back pocket and pulled out an Old Maid card.  "With this.  Rick taught me how a long time ago."

 

            A.J. raised an eyebrow.  "Oh, Rick taught you how, did he?"

 

            "Yep.  It was a good thing you didn't have the deadbolt thrown, otherwise I'da been outta luck."

 

            "I see."

 

            "Don't be mad at Rick, A.J.  He said it was only for emergencies.  I waited and waited and waited for you outside the door, but then I had to go to the bathroom real bad so I figured that was an emergency."

 

            "Yes, I can see where that would be an emergency."

 

            Tanner put the card back in his pocket while A.J. guided him to the living room sofa, Toby at their heels.  The boy scooped up jeans and shirts so he could make a place for himself and A.J. to sit.  "Geez, A.J., you must be really busy.  You would have never let me and Shane leave our junk laying around like this."

            "You're right.  I wouldn't have." A.J. tossed the clothes into the easy chair.  He sat down on the couch and lifted Tanner to his lap.  "I suppose I should clean this place up, huh?"

              "Yeah. It looks like a pig sty.  And I don't even know what a pig sty is."

 

            A.J. laughed at the child who could always tickle his funny bone.  Within seconds he sobered and spoke sternly.  "Now how did you get here?  I hope you're not going to tell me you rode your bike."

 

            "Nah.  Shane got in a lotta trouble when he did that.  Erin brought me.  She's got her own car now that she goes to college."

 

            "Erin brought you?  Where is she then?"

            "She has a girlfriend who lives a few blocks from here."  Tanner pointed out the French doors.  "Over that way, I think.  Anyway, I asked her to bring me here, so she dropped me off.  She's gonna pick me up in a little while."

 

            "Tanner, that's dangerous.  What if I hadn't come home?  Did Erin know I wasn't here?"

 

            "No.  I told her I'd called you and you said I could come over.  She's in charge of me and Shane this weekend 'cause Mom and Da...I mean Kathy and Dad, went out of town.  But Shane got invited to a birthday sleepover, so it was just me and Erin.  I wanted to see you, A.J., so I told her you invited me to come here."

 

            "You shouldn't have lied to Erin like that.  Both of you could get in trouble over it."

            "Aw, A.J.  It's like Rick always says.  You worry too much."

 

            Again A.J. was forced to laugh at the boy.  When he spoke it was to ask quietly, "So how are things going?"

 

            "Okay, I guess.  I really miss my mom though."

 

            A.J. ran a hand through Tanner's hair.  "I know, buddy, because I really miss your mom, too."

 

            "I wish we could come back here, A.J.  To your house like we used to, I mean.  You know, live here every other week."  The boy's eyes roamed the interior of the familiar rooms.  "Even though me and Shane had to share a room, and even though you didn't let us watch as much TV as our dad lets us watch, I really liked it here.  We had a lot of fun, didn't we?"

 

            A.J. swallowed his tears.  "Yes, Tanner, we did."

 

            "Remember all the bike rides we used to take through the park?  And remember the time you chased my mom with the hose and sprayed her when we were washing the cars?  Then later she snuck up behind you and dumped a bucket of cold water over your head.  That was a riot.  And remember when you were reading to me and Shane that night when we were all sitting on Shane's bunk?  The three of us fell asleep and you rolled out.  Mom came running when she heard a big thud.  When we all knew you were okay we laughed and laughed and laughed, and then you pretended to be mad at me the next day when I told Rick about it.  And there was that one weekend when Mom had to go away because of her job.  You and Rick took me and Shane out on Rick's boat.  That was the bestest fishing trip I was ever on.  And we went to the zoo, and Sea World, and Disney Land, and swimming, lots of times we went swimming.  And you always read to us.  Every single night.  My dad never does that.  I've been wondering for weeks now how The Hobbit ends. Then that day of your birthday party Mom left work early and picked me and Shane up from school so we could get the food and decorate the house.  I'm glad we did that, A.J., you know why?"

 

            "No, sport.  Why?"

            Tanner laid his head against A.J.'s chest.  "Because it was the last day we had here with you and my mom.  I think about it a lot.  I'm happy we had that day.  And when Mom looks down from Heaven, I know she's happy we had it, too."

 

            A.J.'s voice was soft and husky.  "I'm happy we had it as well, Tanner.  I'm very happy we had it."

 

            A.J. cleared his throat and changed the subject to one he hoped wouldn't make him burst into tears in front of the boy.  "Are you still going to karate?"

 

            "Yeah."  Tanner lifted his head. "My dad is taking me."

 

            "I'm glad to hear that."

            "It's fun.  But I miss you taking me.  That was something we did together.  Just you and me."

 

            "I know.  I miss it, too.  What else have you been up to?"

 

            "Me and Shane see Angie every Thursday after school."

 

            "Angie?"

 

            "Yeah.  She's a real nice lady who's got this huge playroom with all kinds a' toys.  Every toy you could think of.  We go see her, and draw pictures for her, and talk to her about Mom.  Or at least I talk to her about Mom.  Shane won't."

 

            It was then that A.J. understood Angie was a counselor who most likely specialized in the area of pediatric grief.

 

            "Maybe Shane's just not ready to talk about your mom yet.  Those kinds of things can be harder for some people than they are for others."

 

            "I know.  That's what Mom...Kathy says.  And that's another thing, A.J.  Shane gets really mad at me when I call Kathy, Mom.  I don't do it on purpose, but sometimes I forget.  Do you think my mom,.....my real mom, would be mad about that?"

 

            "No, Tanner, I don't think your mother would be mad about that.  As a matter of fact, I know she wouldn't.  She loved you very, very much.  If calling Kathy, Mom, makes you happy, then it would make your mother happy, too."

 

            "She only works some of the time now, you know."

 

            "Who only works some of the time?"

            "Kathy.  She stays home more so she can be there when Shane and me get out of

school.  We don't go to after-school club now."

 

            A.J. knew Kathy had been a dental hygienist for years.  If he understood Tanner correctly, she'd cut her hours back at work in an effort to devote more time to the boys.  He was glad.  Such an act would have pleased Lauren, and he was certain it had only benefited the boys further since their mother's death.

 

            Silence filled the room for a few seconds as Tanner busied himself studying A.J. from head to toe. 

 

            "Shane says your nothin' but an old drunk now, A.J.  But you don't look like an old drunk to me.  He said you were too busy gettin' shnockered to look for the man who hurt our mom.  But I called him a liar and I punched him a good one, too."

 

            "Tanner," A.J. scolded,  "you know your mom didn't allow you boys to hit one another."

            "I know.  But Shane deserved it for sayin' those things about you.  That's why I came here today.  I had to see for myself.  And now I'm going to go back home and tell Shane you are looking for the man who hurt Mommy.   I'm gonna tell Shane you’ve been so busy looking for him that you haven't had time to do the dishes, or pick up your clothes, or shave, or get a hair cut.  I've seen it with my own two eyes so I know it's the truth."

 

            How A.J. wished the truth could always be as clear as when seen through the bright eyes of a six and a half year old. 

 

            Tanner slid from A.J.'s lap.  He crouched down and ran a tender hand over Toby's coat.   "I miss Toby.  He loves me a lot, and I love him a lot, too."

 

            A.J. watched while the basset hound hungrily lapped up the attention he was getting.  Admittedly, his master had barely noticed his existence over the past two and a half months. 

 

            "Toby misses you as well, Tanner."  A.J. thought a moment then offered,  "Would you like to take him home with you?"

 

            The boy looked up, eyes wide with wonder.  "Really?  Could I?"

 

            "I don't see why not.  I've been too...busy lately to give Toby the time and attention he needs.  I know you'll make sure he gets exercised every day, and is well taken care of."

 

            "Oh I will, A.J.  I promise I will."

 

            "Do you think your dad and Kathy will let you have him?"

            "Yeah, I think so.  Kathy loves dogs.  She told me so once.  And when she first married my dad she had a beagle named Jake.  But he died from old age.  She was really sad for a long time.  My dad was going to buy her another dog, but she said she didn't have time for one since she was working.  But now she doesn't work half as much as she used to, and basset hounds look almost like beagles, so I bet she'll fall in love with Toby the second I show him to her."

 

            A.J. rose from the couch to retrieve two grocery bags from a kitchen drawer.  Toby's toys went in one while his food, treats, and bowls went in the other.  "Now if you get him home and Kathy or your dad say you can't keep him, you call me.  I'll come get him right away."

 

            "Okay.  But I know they'll let me have him."

 

            A car horn beeped from the driveway.  Tanner scrambled to his feet.  "That's Erin.  I'm not supposed to keep her waiting."

            A.J. bent and attached the leash to Toby's collar.  "Here, you take Toby and I'll carry the bags."

 

            The detective followed Tanner and Toby out the kitchen door.  If Toby was as big a hit with Rob and Kathy as he was with Erin then A.J. knew the dog would be welcome in their home.  He jumped right in Erin's purple Plymouth Neon and washed her face with his tongue while Tanner and A.J. said their goodbyes.  The blond man deposited Toby's bags in the back of Erin's car, then bent to hug his little visitor. 

 

            "Thanks for stopping by today, buddy.  You made me feel very good.  Better than I've felt in a long, long time."

 

            Tanner stepped out of A.J.'s embrace.  "I'll come back in a couple of weeks.  You know, to see how things are goin' on my mom's case and all."

 

            A.J. smiled.  "You do that.  Only next time, call first.  I don't want to come home and find you've broken into my house again."

 

            "Aw, A.J., you sure know how to take a guy's fun away."

 

            The blond man laughed, planted a kiss on the boy's head, then helped him get situated on the seat next to Erin.  A.J. snapped Tanner's seat belt in place and closed the door.  He waved to Erin and Tanner as the car backed out of the drive.  Toby sat between them with what A.J. swore was a smile on his face, his tail wagging so hard that both Erin and Tanner were giggling.

 

            It wasn't until Erin's car disappeared around the corner that A.J. remembered Shane's letters. 

 

            Oh well, I'll just mail them on Monday like I had originally planned.

 

_____________________________________

 

 

            It was strange how seeing the world through the eyes of a child could force you to take a good long look at the way you'd been conducting your life.  For no reason A.J. Simon could explain, he felt the need to clean his house that afternoon.  The first time such a need had struck him since the day Lauren died.

 

            It took him three hours to get the downstairs in immaculate order.  Clothes were sorted and thrown in the washing machine while three loads of dishes cycled through the dishwasher.  The dust rag traveled over every shelf and piece of furniture, then the vacuum cleaner navigated the area.     When A.J. made his way upstairs he gathered his paint, brushes, wallpaper solvent, and newspapers, then carried them back to the garage.  Rick had been right.  Painting what was to have been the nursery was not a job he should do alone.  He knew he'd cry when the day came that he finally brought himself to convert that little room back into his home office, but maybe it was better if those tears were shed when he could draw from his older brother's strength. 

 

            A.J. never opened the door to the nursery as he went about cleaning the upper story.  It took him fifteen minutes to pick up all the clothes he had strewn around his bedroom, and another hour to clean the master bathroom, which was in atrocious condition.  The rest of the rooms upstairs, the second bathroom and the room Shane and Tanner had shared, were spotless by virtue of the fact A.J. hadn't been in them in weeks.  Nonetheless, he ran the vacuum throughout the upstairs, though again, he didn't go in the peach colored room at the end of the hall.

 

            As much as A.J. wanted to reach for a cold beer when his work was done, he resisted the urge.  He knew if he started drinking he'd find plenty of reasons to never stop.  He thought about calling his cousins, Kevin and Lindy, and seeing if they wanted to go out for dinner, but decided against it.  Kevin had a wife and three teenagers. It was already six o'clock. The man had probably made plans for the evening by now.  He considered calling Mac and Annette, but didn't think he could face Lauren's family.  It had been hard enough seeing Tanner today.  He'd seen so much of the woman he loved in that little red headed boy.  He knew he'd see the same reminders of Lauren when he sat across a table from her red headed father and out-going mother.  For now it was okay to say he'd had enough for one day.  It was okay to be alone and sober.

 

            Being both alone and sober was new for the detective.  He dug around in the refrigerator until he found a casserole his mother had left.  He knew he had to start heeding her advice and eating better.  Even the high calorie alcohol he'd been guzzling lately wasn't able to keep the pounds on him.  His pants barely stayed up.  If he lost any more weight he'd have to drop another waist size, which he'd done twice already since his wife and child died. 

 

            The blond man warmed his supper in the microwave.  He ate at the kitchen table while reading the Saturday paper.  He put the last load of dishes away, then placed his plate and silverware in the dishwasher.  He closed the lid, but didn't start it cycling.  That could wait a few days until he had a full load. 

 

            A.J. crossed back to the fridge and opened it.  His fingers danced over amber beer bottles, but he didn't allow himself to grab one.   He wanted one.  He wanted one so damn bad now that it was dark outside.  For some reason his heartache and loneliness was all the more acute after the sun set.

 

            The blond man finally reached for a Coke.  He had no idea why he was trying so hard to stay sober when all he wanted to do was get drunk.   But he had this odd feeling of urgency.  As though there was something he just had to accomplish yet tonight.

 

            The detective went out to the garage where he transferred a load of wet clothes to the dryer and put the last load of dirty clothes in the washer.  He drained his Coke can and threw it in the garbage.  He wandered back into the house and up the stairs.  He contemplated calling Downtown Brown.  Temple would be doing the late news, meaning Town was on his own as he was most nights.  Maybe the black man would want to catch a movie.  Or maybe A.J. could just go over to Town's and sit out on his patio and shoot the bull for a while.

 

            A.J. headed to the master bedroom to call his friend.  He paused as he passed the room that had belonged to his stepsons.  Everything from their games, to their toys, to their computer, to Tanner's hobbit, to Shane's beanie babies, was still in residence.  The detective was surprised these items hadn't been packed up the day Lauren's and the baby's things had disappeared.  A.J. had been too grief-stricken before now to give it much thought.  He supposed there hadn't been room in any of the vehicles to take the boys' paraphernalia along.  Maybe the McAllisters had planned to come back at a later date and just hadn't gotten around to it, or maybe Rob Albright was to set up a date with A.J. in order to collect his sons' things.  Overall, A.J. supposed it didn't make much difference.  Just about anything Shane and Tanner had at his home they had at their father's, including a computer. 

 

            The blond walked over to the closet and opened it.  The boys' clothes and shoes were gone, which meant Mac and Annette had taken those items with them the day they were here.  A quick look in the bureau drawers found them empty as well. 

 

            A.J. sighed and walked over to the homework station.  He pulled out a chair and sat down.  Tears stung his eyes at the thought of what had to be done.  He needed to pack the remainder of the boys' things, borrow Rick's Durango, and deliver them to Rob's house.  Then he needed to advertise the furniture and sell it, just like he needed to advertise the baby furniture, and boxes and boxes of baby clothes and paraphernalia that were being stored in a bay of Lisa and Jeff's three car garage.  Lisa had called him two days after she, her parents, and Cecilia, had cleaned out the nursery.  She told A.J. she and Jeff could store the baby's things as long as he wanted them, too, but when he was ready to sell them he should call her.  She'd be happy to handle that end of things for him so he didn't have to deal with it.

 

            A.J. had been too drunk that night to care what Lisa was calling about, or to give her permission to handle much of anything for him.  But now he knew it had to be done.  It wasn't fair to expect her and Jeff to take up room in their garage on account of a dead child.  Just like it wasn't fair of him to keep things in this room that belonged to Shane and Tanner, as though some day they were going to return to their toys, and books, and games, and computer.

 

            The detective's eyes fell on The Hobbit, where it still sat on the nightstand.  He'd give it to Tanner.  The boy had said Rob never read to him, but maybe Kathy would.  It was important to A.J. to be assured Tanner would get the opportunity to hear the end of that story.

 

            A.J. squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the happy memories this room evoked.  His heart hurt so bad that he couldn't stand it, and he felt tears well under his lids.  He thought of how many nights he'd sat in his house since Lauren's death with a loaded gun in his lap.  If Rick or his mother knew that they'd have him committed to a mental health center in two seconds flat.  The only reason he was still alive today was because always before he'd been too damn drunk to pull the trigger.  Well, he wasn't drunk tonight, and being stone cold sober made death sound even more appealing.  There was nothing for him to live for.  No one who really needed him.  Oh, sure, Rick would tell A.J. he needed him, but in truth Rick was strong.  Always so strong.  He'd mourn his little brother, but he'd go on with his life.  A.J. would leave Rick a note so Rick was assured there was nothing he could have done to prevent the choice A.J. made.  He'd tell Rick he loved him, and that he was the best big brother a man could have had.  He'd leave his mother a note, too.  He'd also tell her how much he loved her, and what a terrific mom she'd been.  He hoped that would make her feel better.  Then he'd go to an isolated stretch of beach and take his life.  He didn't want his family to find him with his head half blown off.  He hated to put such a burden on an innocent stranger, but better that person than Rick.  Or maybe he'd call Town before he left the house.  He knew on most evenings that Temple did the late news Town picked her up from work and the two of them stopped for a bite to eat.  If A.J. timed it right, Town would be gone and he'd get the answering machine.  He'd tell Town what his intentions were and where to find his body.  He supposed doing that to his old friend wasn't fair, but Town had seen a lot of grisly sights in his day. One way or another, he'd get past being the person who had to call Jerry to come get A.J.'s body.

 

            But before he wrote any notes, or loaded his gun, or called Town's house, or left for the beach, he'd pack up the boys' room.  The rest of the house was neat and clean now, and Toby was with his new family, so once this room was taken care of A.J. wasn't leaving behind any unfinished business. 

 

            The detective trotted down to the garage as though it was any other Saturday night, and not the Saturday night on which he'd decided to kill himself.  He folded the load of laundry that he pulled out of the dryer as if he was going to be wearing these shirts and socks come tomorrow morning.  He took the load of jeans out of the washer and deposited them in the dryer.   He set the timer for forty minutes, figuring that was just about how long it would take him to pack the boys' stuff in boxes. 

 

            The blond man carried two cardboard boxes under one arm and the laundry basket under the other.  He felt surprisingly light-hearted as he entered his room to put his clothes away. He pushed Lauren's face from his mind.  She seemed to be scolding him for what he planned to do before the night ended.  A.J. didn't want her to scold him. He wanted her to welcome him just like that poem said that Lisa had read at the funeral.  He wanted Lauren to greet him with a smile and say, "Welcome home."  He wanted her to take him in her arms and introduce him to their baby.

 

            When A.J. put the last shirt away he veered for the bathroom where he shaved.  Short of cutting his hair himself, there wasn't much he could do about his thick, shaggy locks, so decided he'd have to go to his grave looking as though he'd never left the decade of the sixties behind.

 

            He reentered his bedroom, picked up the boxes, and strolled down the hall to the boys' room.  It didn't take him long to pack the games and books.  The toys that were on the shelves were more time consuming to stow because of their varying sizes and awkward shapes.  The remainder of the toys he left in the toy chest.  It could be carried out of the house by its handles, just like he and Rick had carried it in.

 

            A.J. reached into the tall cabinet along side the homework station and pulled out coloring books and school folders.  The bundle slipped from his hands and landed on the floor.  Envelopes slid out of a bright white folder that had red stop signs all over it.  When A.J. picked the envelopes up he noticed the same postmark and child’s handwriting as were on the envelopes piled on the kitchen counter addressed to Shane. 

 

            The detective wouldn't have read the letters that night that those envelopes contained if he hadn't, for the first time, realized the postmark was from the island where he and Lauren had honeymooned.  He recalled now, his wife telling him about a school assignment Shane had been given the previous fall in which he and his classmates were corresponding with students who lived on an island in the South Pacific.  A.J. didn't remember Lauren mentioning it was the same island they'd visited on their wedding trip, but then, maybe she'd never known that fact.

 

            A.J. looked at the dates on the postmarks and began pulling the letters out of the envelopes in chronological order.  He sat back down in the chair and read out loud, "Dear Shane.  My name is Troya and I live on an island that my daddy and Grandpa practically own."

 

            A.J. paused for a moment.  He'd never heard of any one else named Troya other than Troya Yeager.  He pondered that a moment, but realized there were surely a number of little girls and women around the world who bore such a moniker.  He continued reading.  "I am seven years old.  I'll be eight on November third.  My mommy's name is Hillary, and my daddy's name is Troy."

 

            Ah,  A.J. thought.  The reason behind Troya.

 

            "We have a maid named Aziah, and we love her a lot.  I have a little sister named Tiffany.  She is five and just started first grade.  There is no kindergarten on our island, so kids can start the first grade when they're five.  We don't have a high school either, but my daddy says he's going to build one before I'm old enough to go.  Oh, I have a brother, too.  He's my favorite one in the whole entire family.  He's two, and his name is Brooks.  Sincerely, Troya Aubrey Andrews."

 

            A.J.'s eyes read over the girl's closing line one last time, then darted up to the prior sentence.  "He's two and a half and his name is Brooks.  Sincerely, Troya Aubrey Andrews."

 

            The blond man swallowed hard.  "No.  No it can't be."

 

            Troya Aubrey, as in Troya Aubrey Yeager?  And Brooks.  As in Tad Brooks?

 

             A.J.'s hands flew to the next letter.  The child told more about her island culture and evidently answered questions Shane had asked of her.  Again she mentioned the brother named Brooks.  Three more letters followed in the same vein until A.J. ran across the one he was looking for. He remembered Shane asking him a question back in early July about the witness protection program. 

 

            "Dear Shane.  My father is an even bigger hero than your stepfather.  So big that he's in something the FBI has called the witness protection club.  A long time ago he saw two mean brothers kill a beautiful lady.  She was very pretty.  I think maybe my daddy was in love with her."

 

            "Oh God," A.J. muttered with disbelief.  "Oh God no.  But how can this be?  He's dead.  He died that night ten years ago."

 

            But the detective was well aware no one knew for certain if Tad Brooks had died the night he'd fled by diving over the side of The Aubrey.  Could he have somehow lived through that terrible storm?  A.J. knew it was a possibility.  Especially if he'd had a boat waiting for him somewhere in the darkness.

 

            A.J. clawed for the next letter.  In this one Troya told Shane that her brother Brooks was very sick and that her parents were fighting a lot.  The blond man's heart stopped for a moment when he read the next paragraph.

 

       "I helped my Daddy send an e-mail to his Uncle Sam today in San Diego.  I didn't know Daddy had an Uncle Sam.  He never talks about his family.  I'll try to find out Uncle Sam's last name.  Maybe you know him.   I think Uncle Sam is going to help Brooks."

 

            A.J. didn't even need to think about whom he knew who used Uncle Sam as their e-mail address.  It had been Cord Franklin.  Somehow Franklin and Tad Brooks were acquainted.  And if they were acquainted, and Cord had mentioned Rick's name, well then that might just explain who had really been behind Lauren's death.

 

            Poker-hot fury lashed the blond man's soul.  "I'll kill the son-of-a-bitch," he vowed.  "I'll kill him."

 

            A.J.'s hands grabbed little Troya's next letter.  In this one the child's pain was profound as she told Shane that her brother Brooks had died, and that her mother had a break down and went with her maternal grandparents to the Hamptons. 

 

            A.J. Simon was no fool.  He knew he'd just read Tad Brooks' motive for revenge.  The man had lost his son because he'd been forced to live in exile on a remote island where medical care was undoubtedly elementary at best.  The man who now called himself Troy Andrews, wanted to take from A.J. Simon what had been taken from him. 

 

            A.J.'s eyes scanned the next letter in the pile.  In this one Troya talked of the baby shower A.J.'s family had thrown Lauren, and tells Shane she'd never seen fireworks except on television.  She says her parents are divorcing, but no other information came forth that was useful to A.J.  The detective pawed through the rest of Shane's school papers, but there were no other letters from Troya. He jumped up and ran for the stairs.  He flew down the steps, he feet landing on only three before he was in the den.

 

            The blond man raced to the kitchen.  He tore the oldest letter open.  This was like reading a best-selling mystery that was so intriguing you couldn't wait to get to the next chapter.  Nonetheless, A.J. wasn't expecting to uncover what he did.  He barely made it around the counter before he sank to a bar stool in utter shock and disbelief.

           

Dear Shane,

 

I have a new brother.  Daddy says we adopted him.  He has white hair and big blue eyes and came to live with us when he was only one day old.  Daddy says his birthday is July 26th.  He kind of looks like Brooks did when he was a newborn baby.  Me and Tiffany already love him a hole lot.  Has your mommy had her baby yet?

                

Love,

Your friend Troya

 

P.S.  Our new baby's name is Tad.  

                

            "No," A.J. muttered.  "It can't be.   I...how...how could he...how?"

 

            A.J.  ripped open the next letter and read as fast as he could.    

 

"Dear Shane.  Things are very confusing. For a few days back in July a lady named Allison was staying here.  She said she wanted to be my mommy but then Daddy got mad at her and sent her away.  I was glad.  I didn't like her.  She tried too hard to be nice.  She was very phony if you ask me.  Now there's another lady living in our house that my daddy is making us call Mommy. Only she's not my mommy either.  Her name is Spencer.  That's another thing that confuses me.  Daddy calls her Spencer, but some boy named Logan came to our beach the other day and called her Casey.  Don't you think that's weird?  Why would someone go by two different names?  I never saw that boy Logan before, but he sure was mad at Spencer, or Casey, or whatever her name is. This seems like a mystery.  Maybe you can ask your stepfather about it.  You said he's good at solving mysteries."

 

            A.J. skimmed over the rest of the letter until he got to Troya's postscript.  "Baby Tad cries a lot.  I don't think he likes us." 

 

            The detective's mind was reeling.  First Cord Franklin, then Allison Baker, and now Casey.  How the hell did all these people tie into Tad Brooks, and who was it that set A.J. and Lauren up?  The blond man knew any answers he might yet glean would come in Troya's last letter.  He read past the little girl's talk of the hurricane season, but paid more attention when she spoke of how cute her little brother was.  When he came to a paragraph of interest he read out loud.

 

            "That lady Spencer is gone.  Daddy kicked her out of the house.  And I mean that.  He kicked her right in her butt.  I saw him do it.  I'm glad she's gone, but I felt sorry for her when Daddy did that to her.  She was naked, Shane.  It was a strange night.  Now it's just me, and Tiffany, and Tad, and Daddy, and Aziah.  I like it better this way, but I wish mommy were here, too."

 

            A.J. skipped past the section where Troya spoke of her birthday.  His interest was piqued again when he read her last line.  "I'm sending you a picture of Tad.  That's me holding him."

 

            The detective scrounged for the envelope he'd tossed aside.  He barely paid attention to the pretty little girl in the picture.  Instead, his eyes focused on the baby in her arms. 

 

            "Oh Lord.  Oh my Lord."  A.J. ran for the closet in the living room.  He knew his baby book was on the top shelf somewhere.  His mother had given it to him when they'd found out Lauren was pregnant. 

 

            A.J. sunk to a nearby chair and flipped through the heavy pages that had yellowed with age.  He knew exactly what picture he was looking for.  In this one it was a five-year- old big brother holding a two-month-old infant.  When A.J. found it he laid the pictures side by side.  The babies, though born exactly forty-nine years apart, could have been identical twins.

 

            "That bastard," A.J. muttered.  "I don't know how, but that bastard has my son.  I have a son and Tad Brooks has him."

 

            The detective tossed the book aside and dashed for the stairs.  He had a lot to do before he climbed on a plane that would take to the island where a man who called himself Troy Andrews was hiding out.

 

            All thoughts of suicide left A.J. Simon as he threw clothes and toiletries in a zippered sports bag.  He had a son, and the little boy needed him. 

                       

Chapter 42

 

            Rick carried Nancy's suitcase into her home.  While she opened windows to let fresh air in he used her phone.   When he got nothing but the answering machine at A.J.'s house he tried the office.  The answering machine picked up there as well.  The detective disconnected the call without leaving a message.

 

            Nancy walked into the kitchen as Rick was hanging up. 

 

            "Did you get a hold of him?"

            "No.  Still no answer either place."

 

            "Hon, don't get so upset."  She ran her hands over the knotted muscles in Rick's back.  "I'm sure A.J.'s just involved with a case.  You know how he's been since Lauren passed away.  How many hours he's been putting in and such."

 

            "Yeah, I know how he's been," Rick said while staring out the window into Nancy's small back yard.  "And that's what worries me." 

 

            Rick refused Nancy's offer of supper, gave her a kiss, and promised to call her later.  He let himself out of her house and hurried to his vehicle. 

 

            It was Monday evening.  Rick hadn't been due back from Las Vegas for another twenty-four hours, but when phone calls placed to A.J.'s home and the office had gone unanswered throughout Saturday night, Sunday, and early this morning, Rick had grown increasingly worried.  He kept telling himself exactly what Nancy had just voiced, that A.J. had probably gotten tied up on a case.  But that was no excuse for A.J.'s lack of contact as far as Rick was concerned.  He'd left the phone number of his hotel each time he'd called.  He'd told A.J. to leave a message with the desk clerk if the phone in Rick and Nancy's room went unanswered.  But each time Rick checked at the desk he was told no one had called for him.  And each time he tried to reach A.J. he got answering machines.

 

            Rick pulled out of Nancy's driveway and was soon navigating through congested rush hour traffic.  He'd head to the office first. It was almost six o'clock.  If A.J. were true to the habits he'd begun since Lauren's death he'd be there yet hard at work.  The detective made a mental note to treat his lady and the Escobars to dinner next weekend.  When he'd made the decision to end his vacation earlier than planned he offered to leave the Durango behind and rent a car in order to make the trip home.  Nancy, Carlos, and Eva wouldn't allow him to do that, all three insisting they understood his concerns over not being able to reach A.J.   In thirty minutes time they were ready to depart, not one word of complaint over the vacation being cut short was voiced on the long drive home.