“Yeah.”
“How would we get to London?”
“Train.”
“Yeah, but I mean, London’s not in the EU. I don’t know if we can go there without our parents.”
“Oh,” says Braedon. “I didn’t think of that. Maybe Dad would go with us.”
Emily keeps walking. Her eyes look off to the side as if she’s deep in thought. Braedon expects her to say something, but she doesn’t. Finally he says, “What are you thinking?” Again shedoesn’t answer and her eyes stay to the side. “Emily? Can you hear me?”
“Yeah…” says Emily.
“Why aren’t you saying anything?”
“Well… I don’t know if I should.”
“What do you mean?” says Braedon.
“I guess…” Emily hesitates. “I mean…”
“What?”
“Braedon, don’t you think your dad already knew?”
Braedon’s head gets fuzzy. If his father knew where Braedon’s mother was, he would have told him. Because to not tell him is a form of lying. And Dad’s always been truthful with him. Hasn’t he? “I don’t think he did know,” says Braedon.
“But think about it,” says Emily. She has a sick look on her face. Like she doesn’t want to say this but has to. “Your dad is super smart. All the teams want him to be coach. When he was a player, the commentators always said he was the smartest player on the pitch. That’s what my da says, as well. I mean, it’s great that you found her. It means you’re super smart like your da. But he probably did it before you did. He just didn’t say anything ’cause he didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”
Braedon considers this for a little too long.
“Hey, sorry,” says Emily. “We’re at the breakfast place. I have to go. But talk to you later? Like when it’s morning for you?”
Braedon bites his lower lip and nods.
“Okay. See you later, then.”
Braedon ends the call without speaking. He’s afraid his voice will break. He’s afraid if he lets his thoughts out, the tearswill come, too. He puts his phone on its charger, turns out the light, lies there in the dark, and stares up at a ceiling he cannot see.
“Why are you here if you’re not a cop anymore?” says Wags. He sits on the cot in his cell, his hair a mess, a plastic bottle of water at his feet and a paper cup of coffee in his right hand. “I mean, I don’t have to talk to you.”
“You don’t have to talk to anyone,” says Judd. “And I’m here because Chief Jensen asked for my assistance in the search for my brother, Teddy.”
“Oh, great,” says Wags. “My tax dollars at work. Paying for an old has-been cop so he can look for his fuckup brother. That’s government for you.”
Judd swivels in the office chair he pulled over from Kimmich’s desk. He’s positioned himself right outside the bars of Wags’s cell. “Not in this case,” says Judd. “I’m working for free. You can think of it as giving back. I know that’s something that’s important to you.”
“Fuck you,” says Wags.
“Language,” says Mike, who sits on his desk, one leg on the floor and one up. “You want a lawyer, Wags? Because we can have this conversation when your lawyer’s here. Maybe that’ll be tomorrow. Maybe it’ll be the day after tomorrow. Maybe it’ll be in a week, especially if you didn’t pay your legal bills last time you were in this situation. Doesn’t matter to me. I’m in no rush.”
“What good’s a lawyer going to do me? I had nothing to do with those catalytic converters. I don’t know how they got in my trunk. But I did blow a .16. You got me on that. And on that only, I plead guilty.”
“That’s something you do in court,” says Judd. “Not here. Of course, this is a small town with a small police force. Mike and Andy and Chief Jensen, they like to keep things informal. Maybe not follow the letter of the law, if that’s what’s best for the community in the long run.”
“Ah,” says Wags. “You want to make some kind of deal. I don’t know what I have to offer, but I’m willing to listen.”
Judd gets up from his office chair, walks to the coffeepot, and refills his cup. He’s mid-pour when he says, “Let’s go back to those catalytic converters that you don’t know anything about.”
