Braedon buys Clay’s excuse, even though, if he thought it through, he’d realize the police already have Teddy’s fingerprints from his multiple stumbles onto the other side of the law. But most twelve-year-old boys don’t stop to think things through. Instead of questioning the logic of his father’s plan, Braedonpitches Emily’s idea of Daniel giving the bike back to the boys and then, after a few days, the police arresting the boys and giving the bike back to its rightful owner.
Clay thinks about it as they’re getting into the truck. “Are those boys giving Daniel a hard time?”
Braedon doesn’t want to tell his father the whole story, but he’s talked himself into a corner and doesn’t see a way out. “Yeah,” he says. “They want him to rob something for them.”
“Steal,” says Clay.
“What?”
“We saystealin America. They sayrobback in Ireland.”
“Oh. Well. Yeah, then. They want Daniel to steal something for them. They say he has to because they gave him the bike.”
“And when did you discuss this with Emily?”
“Last night while you were at Grandpa’s. She called me because she got the time difference wrong. But I was mostly up because I just got done texting with Daniel. That’s how I know about them wanting him to r—steal something.”
“Let me think about Emily’s idea,” said Clay. “Maybe I’ll run it by the chief of police. I’ll be sure to give Emily credit.” Clay glances over at Braedon in the passenger seat for a reaction, but Braedon thinks Clay’s being serious about giving Emily credit. “In the meantime, you should text Daniel and tell him not to steal something or do anything else for those boys until he hears back from you.”
Braedon nods. Makes sense.
They stop first at Deb and Teddy’s doublewide to pick up some of Teddy’s things. This tracks with the excuse Clay gave Braedon about dusting them for Teddy’s prints, which is the truth. Clay only lied by omission about also dusting the rock,ransom note, and Teddy’s earring. Braedon’s waiting in the car when Deb opens the door.
She leans against the doorjamb and manages a smile. “Come on in, Clay. I have some of Teddy’s things all ready to go.”
In the kitchen, Clay looks over what Deb has gathered for him and Judd. Teddy’s toothbrush and hairbrush, a few tortoise-shell guitar picks, his fly-tying vise, and several puzzle pieces from one end of a puzzle that Teddy and Deb were working on together before Teddy disappeared.
“Thanks for putting all this together. We should find plenty of prints.”
“Don’t the police have Teddy’s prints?” says Deb. She is smarter than a twelve-year-old boy.
“They should,” says Clay, “but with all the digitizing of records and storing them in a central server, we don’t want to take any chances.” The excuse is completely fabricated, but it sounds good enough for Deb to stop asking questions. “How are you holding up?”
Deb cuts three pieces from a carrot cake she made last night. “Baking takes my mind off things,” she says. She seals them in cling wrap and adds, “But to answer your question, I feel tired. And strangely calm. You know how it is when you spend so much time and energy worrying that something bad will happen, but when it actually does happen, it somehow isn’t as bad as the worrying?”
“Like when you’re a kid,” says Clay, “worrying about getting a shot at the doctor is ten times worse than actually getting the shot.”
“Kind of,” says Deb. “It’s more about control, I think. When Teddy wasn’t in any trouble, when he was home safe and sound,I was constantly thinking about what I could do to keep it that way. I cooked dinners he loved. We watched a lot of TV together. I even found a way to love watching sports the way he does. I thought he might watch less sports as he aged. That his interest would wane. But just the opposite happened. Especially lately. I’ve had to find a way to share that with him. I figured out if I read about the players to learn their personal stories, what they’ve overcome and things like that, then I have something to cheer for. I watch so much with him. And he loves it.”
Deb puts the three wrapped pieces of cake on a paper plate and secures them all together with a second layer of cling wrap. She hands it to Clay and says, “For you, Braedon, and Judd.”
“Thank you.”
Deb carries the knife over to the sink and, with her back to Clay, says, “You know, I had this constant hum of anxiety about doing everything I could to keep Teddy out of trouble. Even in my sleep I felt it. But now there’s nothing I can do. I guess it’s more like when you’re a caregiver to a terminally ill person. When they finally die, it’s terrible. But it’s also a relief because your responsibility to them is gone forever. There’s some guilt that comes along with it. And a whole lot of sadness. But whatever has happened or is happening with Teddy, it’s out of my hands. I feel both relieved and so damn guilty. So guilty about the relief.” She turns around to face Clay. “God, I hope he’s okay. But that’s all I can do. Hope.”
Braedon’s down in Judd’s basement playingFIFAon the PS5 Judd bought for his grandson’s visits. Judd and Clay are upstairsand have just discovered that there are no fingerprints on the envelope, letter, tape, or earring. No fingerprints at all. Which means someone took the time to wipe them off.
“That’s inconclusive,” says Judd. “Best to assume the note is legit. The bank’s going to call when the cash is ready. I used to have a bear canister around here somewhere but I think I got rid of it. My boundary waters days are over.”
“I’ll run up to Rochester and get one.”
“Appreciate it,” says Judd. “This morning I woke up dreaming about Teddy. He just walked up to me looking like he wanted to apologize, and I gave him a big hug. It felt so damn real, you know? One of those kind of dreams you’re sorry to wake up from.”
Clay looks at his father. It’s the most introspective thing he has ever heard come out of Judd’s mouth. And it wasn’t all that introspective. But it gives him a glimpse into a man he doesn’t know. Judd’s not a hugger in real life, but apparently he is in his dreams. “Are you glad you had that dream?” says Clay. “Or did it feel like the rug getting yanked out from under you?”
“No,” says Judd. “I’m glad I had the dream. Better to see Teddy in my sleep than not at all.”
Both men feel something strange. An unfamiliar air. It’s cooperation. The change is not touchy-feely. It’s not like two old friends hit a bump and now they’re back to being best pals. In fact, the feeling is so unfamiliar between father and son, they hardly recognize what’s happening. It is, in reality and at least for the moment, a thaw. But all they know is that something feels different. And different doesn’t necessarily mean better. What they feel is an absence. An absence of animosity. An animositythat’s been between them from Clay’s earliest memories. And for Judd, an animosity that came home from the hospital with Clay bundled in his rear-facing car seat as Pam sat in back with him. Taking home her baby for the first time. Along with her cancer diagnosis.
