Saturday, June 24th #2
“You’re not upsetting me, Dad. It’s…” I rake my hand through my hair. “Ugh. I don’t know. I just don’t want to talk about it.”
“No problem,” he says gently.
We fall silent again. And just eat.
When we finish eating, my dad pays for the food and we climb back into the SUV to continue the drive to Camden. We talk only occasionally, the conversations light and forgettable. I try to close my eyes again, but I’m too restless now. The closer we get, the more tightly wound I feel.
“So, it looks like he owns a building supply store in town,” my dad says as we drive through downtown Camden. “I figured we’d check there first. A little more inconspicuous than sitting outside someone’s house for hours,” he adds with a chuckle.
“Probably,” I say, but my voice is tight. The nerves are pressing in on me now.
Camden’s a nice town, from what I can tell.
Actually, “nice” probably doesn’t do it justice.
It’s pretty. Picture-perfect, even. There’s that small-town postcard vibe: people walking along the sidewalks, popping into cafés and shops, enjoying the warm weather and the sunshine.
It’s pleasant, but not stifling like back in the city.
We’re already melting in New York, and I thank Shane every damn day that he had the good sense to find us an apartment with actual A/C instead of just cheap coolers. Total lifesaver.
The streets are lined with storefronts—flower shops, bakeries, boutiques. I focus on them as we drive, trying to anchor myself to the details instead of the pressure cinching my throat shut.
“How’s Cat doing?” my dad asks, clearly trying to make conversation. Maybe distract me.
I turn to look at him. “Pretty good. She’s getting some of her energy back. She was completely wiped for a while, but she’s been feeling a little better lately.”
He nods. “Penny was the same way during her first trimester. The second one was easier. But the third…” he chuckles. “That felt like it lasted nine months all on its own. Especially for her.”
“I bet,” I murmur. “I have to admit, I never really thought much about what women actually go through during pregnancy. But then Cat started telling me about the symptoms, and now, just watching her deal with all of it…”
“They’re pretty badass,” my dad says, nodding.
“Yeah. And she does it all looking fucking stunning,” I say without hesitation.
He smiles. “You really love her, huh?”
“Love isn’t a strong enough word,” I say. “Worship is probably more accurate.”
He chuckles. “Sounds about right. When’s her next doctor’s appointment?”
“Thursday.” I glance out the window again, but I’m not really seeing anything now.
“I still can’t believe we’re having a baby,” I say, shaking my head.
“It’s so damn surreal. I honestly thought she was joking when she first told me.
I hoped she was… but then I looked at her face… and I just knew she wasn’t.”
I can still picture that exact moment. Her wide eyes. The way her voice trembled just slightly. The way everything shifted in an instant. “Talk about an oh-shit moment,” I mumble.
“I know what that feels like,” my dad says with a nod, his expression tightening.
Just then, he slows the car and eases into a parking spot across the street from what looks like a hardware store.
“Alright,” he says, peering out the driver’s side window, “that’s the place.”
I unbuckle and lean forward to get a better look. The store sits at the corner, front painted a dark navy blue. The black door has a small glass pane with an Open sign dangling in the center. It’s nothing flashy. Just another neighborhood supply store.
But my pulse starts pounding anyway.
“So, what do we do?” I ask him.
“Reconnaissance,” my dad says, eyes still trained on the building.
“I’m sorry, what?”
He chuckles. “We observe and surveil to obtain information.”
“You’re right back in your element, aren’t you?” I ask dryly.
That makes him laugh. “It’s what I do, Ran.”
“Uh-huh. So, we just sit here?”
“You are going to sit here,” he says, already popping his door open. “I’m going inside to see what I can see.”
“No, I want to—”
“Ronan,” he says sharply. “Stay put. For now, okay? Please.”
I exhale loudly but do as I’m told. He crosses the street and disappears into the store. It’s maddening just sitting here alone with my nerves while my dad scopes the place out. Every second stretches too long. But still, I wait.
He comes back ten minutes later with a small bag in his hand.
“You bought something?” I ask as he tosses it into the backseat.
“Had to make it look legit, right?” he says with a half-smile that’s basically a carbon copy of mine.
It’s weirdly comforting. People say I look like my mom—light hair, green eyes—but the shape of my face, the way I move, even some of my facial expressions…
that’s all him. And I’ve heard more than once now that I sound like him, too.
“So?” I ask. “What kind of intelligence were you able to gather, Lieutenant Colonel?”
That earns a real laugh. “Cormac is in there,” he says, and I swallow hard. “Go inside, take a look around. You’re looking for a guy in his early forties, short dark-blond hair, average build, khaki pants, and a fitted navy shirt. Oh, and buy something. Zip ties or whatever.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Okay, but just to clarify: why do you want me to buy zip ties? Are we planning to kidnap this dude?”
He laughs again. “Go ahead, Ran. Go check him out.”
I open the door and step out, my stomach tight as I cross the street. When I push open the shop door the overhead bell jingles, and I spot Cormac behind the counter. My dad’s description was dead-on. He doesn’t look up as I walk in.
I stand there for a moment, watching him, trying to detect traces of my mom in his features.
“Do you need help finding anything?” a voice says beside me.
I flinch and turn toward the girl—probably about my age—who’s suddenly standing there, waiting.
“No, uh… yeah,” I stammer. “Where are your zip ties?”
Smooth.
“Right this way,” she says cheerfully.
I tear my eyes away from Cormac and follow the girl as she gestures down an aisle.
“Are you looking for a particular size?” Her gaze flicks to my jeans, then back up. She swallows. “Eight inches? Nine?”
I blink. Was that a sexual innuendo?
“Uh, do you have a variety pack?” I ask, thinking quickly.
“Yeah, we have one that ranges from four inches to eighteen,” she says as we stop in front of a shelf.
“Perfect,” I say, grabbing the plastic container stuffed with about 500 zip ties in assorted colors and lengths.
“Anything else I can help you with?”
“No, I think that’s it,” I say, feeling like such a fucking idiot for some reason.
“Great. I can ring you up,” she says, leading the way to the register.
I glance sideways toward Cormac, who’s still absorbed in whatever he’s doing behind the counter.
“Do you want a bag?” the girl asks, smiling as I hand her a twenty.
“No, I’m good, thanks,” I say. Then, stalling, “Hey, do you guys have a recommendation for a good seafood place around here?”
That gets Cormac’s attention. He finally looks up, eyes narrowing as he takes me in.
“Are you not from around here?” the girl asks, her tone flirty.
“No. New York.”
“City?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, you’ve come to the right place for seafood,” Cormac says, still eyeing me like I’m a puzzle. “You really can’t go wrong anywhere in Camden, but this is my personal favorite.” He walks over and hands me a business card.
“Thanks.” I glance at it, then back at him. He’s still studying me. I wonder if he sees my mom in my face. Or maybe his dad. I’ve always hated how much I resemble her.
“Yeah, no problem,” Cormac says with a nod.
I pocket my change, grab the zip ties, and head out, feeling their eyes on me the whole way.
“We’re set on zip ties for a while,” I mutter when I get back in the Tahoe, slam the door behind me, and toss the container onto the backseat.
“I can’t believe you really bought zip ties,” my dad laughs. “Did you see him?”
“Yep. Talked to him, too.”
“You what?”
“I talked to him,” I shrug.
“Damn, Ran. You’d make a great undercover officer. What’d you talk about?”
“Seafood. I asked for restaurant recommendations.”
“And?”
I hand him the card. “He said it was his favorite.”
“You’re killing me, Ran,” my dad laughs. “Alright, so, Cormac closes up at four. We’ve got about an hour. We can either stay here or go wait at his house.”
“How far is it?”
“GPS says five minutes.”
“Okay. Let’s head there and wait. Better than following him home, right?”
“It’s always better to be in place before your subject arrives,” he says, grinning.
“You’re really having fun with this, huh?”
“Maybe a little,” my dad admits as he shifts the SUV into drive.
***
We pull up to a white, two-story home just a few minutes later. Two cars are parked in the driveway. I take in the large unfenced yard, the red front door, and the rose bushes blooming under a wide bay window facing the street.
“Nice home,” my dad says simply.
I nod. “Yep.”
“Looks like Cormac’s son and wife are home,” he says. “That Subaru is registered to his wife. The blue GT belongs to his son.”
I grin. “Kinda love that he drives a Mustang.”
My dad chuckles. “Yeah, I bet you do.”
We sit there for what feels like forever. About an hour and a half later, he nudges me with his elbow. I look up just as a white GMC pickup pulls into the driveway. We watch silently as Cormac parks, climbs out, and disappears into the house.
“So… now what?” I ask. “More reconnaissance?”
“Yep,” my dad says, leaning back.
But there isn’t much to see. Just shadows moving behind the windows now and then.
“I’m gonna go talk to him,” I say suddenly, already reaching for the door handle.
“Woah, woah, Ran, are you sure?” my dad asks, gripping my arm.
I look him in the eye. “Yeah, Dad. I need to do this.”
He studies me for a beat, then exhales. “Fine.”