Chapter 20 Piper
PIPER
The motel is even further away from civilization than I thought, and not in Maple Crossing one bit.
We drive through trees the same way we used to do on the weekend. This morning, I don’t lose my shit the way I normally do every time I see a pine tree, because my shit has already been lost, courtesy of my father.
We arrive at the motel, and Caleb swerves into a makeshift parking lot and glances at me sidelong from the driver’s seat. The concern he has for me about this situation is heartwarming. Friends feel concern, but they don’t go silent all morning because of it.
“He’s my father and by the sounds of it, he needs my ass. He’s not gonna do anything.”
“Not yet.”
“He never did do anything,” I remind him. “That’s the point. Unless something was wrong with the bees, he never gave a shit. He prioritized insects over his literal daughter.”
“And now he’s suddenly prioritizing you?
” The concern settles deeper into Caleb’s face, making those fine lines more prominent again.
“I’m right behind you if you need me. All you need to do is shout.
Knock on the window. Those things don’t look double-glazed, so if you need to salvage an exit and smash the glass, it shouldn’t be too difficult. ”
I undo my seat belt, letting it slide back into its hatch. “Don’t worry. I’ll let you know if I need some assistance.”
I’m kinda hoping I don’t. The amount of times Caleb has had to save me now is getting ridiculous.
I call my father to notify him that I’ve arrived. He hangs up instantly. A minute later, after waiting outside of the crusty reception area, the door opens, revealing my father, looking even more worse for wear than I remember.
Jesus. It’s been close to a decade since I last saw him. A lot can change in that time, but it never occurred to me that he could be bald.
The faded green eyes seem somewhat the same, but that’s about it. He’s lost weight around his mouth, and his eyes are more sunken into the sockets than they once were.
“Thank you for meeting me here, Piper.” He scurries back into the reception area, keeping a close eye on things outdoors. I watch him nervously scan the parking lot. Seeing Caleb in the driver’s seat of his truck, his head shoots up. “Who is that man?”
“Nothing to worry about. He’s my ride.” I glance at my father.
He’s shorter than I remember him being. Age has made him lose not just weight, but height.
Or is the latter just down to nerves? He cowers an awful lot, and the way he scuttles back indoors, away from the door, tells me that he’s treating every car and person out there like a possible threat.
I’m overcome by another thought—when was the last time he went outside?
His skin is white as anything, and he’s wearing a kind of nervousness that is making me catch on. There’s something out there he doesn’t like.
The motel is tiny—one floor only. It could use a new carpet. And a cleaner. Mold clings to everything in sight, the ceilings and walls even more fucked than the shell of a man hobbling in front of me.
I’ve been dealing with a sprained ankle for a week, and I’m still managing to walk better than him. Though he’s clearly too preoccupied to notice that I’m limping too.
“What’s that man doing out there?” my father asks as we both stagger down the corridor to his room. “He shouldn’t have come with you.”
“You never mentioned anything about me coming alone. You also were very vague over the phone, so I wanted to be safe.”
“Safe?”
“We haven’t been in contact for nine years,” I remind him, just in case he’s lost track of how many it’s been. It’s a high probability. “You gave me a week’s notice that you were leaving for good, remember?”
A grunt is all I get from him in response. We arrive at his room, which I feel the need to hold my breath for. He inserts the key, and my stomach curdles with nerves as I step in after him.
The room is even more dreadful than the corridor.
It’s just plasterboard in here. The wallpaper has all been ripped off, or killed by the mold—it’s hard to tell.
The room features two single beds and a lamp that probably doesn’t switch on.
Behind the door, when my father shuts it in a jiffy, is a sink that’s accumulating scale.
A single toothbrush is balanced on the edge of it. There’s no toothpaste. No soap.
He must really be knee-deep in shit.
I almost don’t wanna hear about it.
Ignorance is bliss. This is definitely one of those times.
“So,” I begin. “What is it you want to tell me?” I take one look at the poorly made bed, the single sheet on top of it, and decide to remain standing. There could be all sorts festering under there, depending on how long he’s been staying here for.
“I know.”
Ah. So he does know how to read facial expressions.
“The motel was apparently shut down a year ago due to a severe rat infestation.”
Delightful.
“It was the only thing I could afford to camp out in.”
Because it’s free…?
I fold my arms over my chest, hoping he drops the bomb soon. I don’t have all day. I don’t even have an hour. The damp smell of this place is already making me feel unwell.
“I owe money to a man in Boston. He was connected to Sally.”
“Who’s Sally?”
“The woman I met years ago.”
Translation: the woman he decided to leave his daughter for.
I wince and hope the number in my head isn’t as big as I’m thinking. But when it comes to my father and his unpredictability, it’s usually best to not estimate. “How much do you owe him?”
“Two hundred thousand dollars.”
“Two hundred thousand…” It’s almost incomprehensible. “Why the fuck do you owe two hundred thousand dollars to one man in Boston?”
“Sally.” He says her name with disgust. “She and I were in love, which is why we moved out to Boston nine years ago. But I got caught up in something that I’m not proud to admit.”
“Whatever it is, I hope it was worth it,” I say, taking note of the environment again.
“I was at the casino,” he begins, “and got dealt a bad hand. Terrible, in fact. I lost every cent and could barely make ends meet for Sally and me. She knew a guy on the street that gave out loans interest free—said her own father had used him a couple of times, and it saved him. So this guy loaned me the money—two hundred thousand to be exact, and seemed like a nice guy on the surface of things, wanting me to get clean. I was skeptical as to why he had this amount of money lying around in cash.”
And he still took the goddamn money?
My father rubs his temple. “I trusted Sally and she trusted him. Anyway, I headed into the casino knowing that I couldn’t stoop any lower than before.
I tried to pay off the loan as soon as possible, but one thing led to another and before I knew it, he was at my door demanding back the money.
Sally took off. Him and her were a couple this entire time, looking for an easy scam. ”
I feel like grinding my teeth, but I’ll probably have none left by the time I’m done with this conversation.
Two hundred thousand dollars.
And now he wants me to come and save him.
“How long have you been out here for?” I ask him.
“A month. Maybe two. I’m not sure exactly. The days have all blurred into one.” He sighs. “I came back to Maine because it’s quieter out here. I thought that by moving to a different state, I’d be able to hide from everything.”
“You thought? What does that mean? They found you?” I peer anxiously over my shoulder and pray that I’m not a sacrifice for Sally and her husband, who are probably waiting for me in that busted closet right now.
I know my father more than I wish I did.
If sending me away was the only way he could clear the debt, he’d probably let them take me in a heartbeat.
“They haven’t found me yet. But they have found you.”
My heart falters. I shuffle to the window and chance a look out of it.
Of course my father’s room doesn’t back onto the parking lot.
All I see out here is trash and rubble—the motel must’ve knocked something down after the rat infestation.
I consider salvaging an escape while I still have the chance, but I also need to know how the fuck these people found me.
And that’s when it hits me.
“They don’t by any chance drive a beaten-up Chevy do they?”
“Yes. How many times have you seen it?”
“Enough times for me to recognize it. They have all that money and still choose to whip around in that old thing?”
“It’s untraceable and the registration is fake,” my father says.
He sits on the bed and nets his hands. “This is why I couldn’t risk telling you the information over the phone.
Sally’s partner is a hacker and she’s the partner in crime.
Somehow, they’ve accessed all of my encrypted data and found out where I live.
I never told Sally where I lived before Boston—I never thought it was relevant enough.
But the two of them know everything, except one little thing.
” He holds his breath, creating suspense that we really don’t have time for.
“He thinks you’re still living with me.”
“Jokes on them. My house burned to the ground a month ago.”
“Yes. So I heard.” He doesn’t look impressed. But we’ve both done things in this life that we’re not proud of. He has no right to bash me for being irresponsible when he fell balls deep into the gambling addiction I thought he’d moved on from.
“Either way, they still think that we’re involved in each other’s lives. Sally and her partner hired someone in the family to come out here and trace me, but I don’t have the money.”
“I don’t have it either. My house burned down.”
“Surely they gave you an insurance payout?”
Typical. Our family home burns to ash and the first thing that comes to mind for my father is how much money we made out of the disaster.
“Details on that will come later,” I huff. “But no. No insurance payout.”
“The guy they hired broke into our property a day before the fire.”
I freeze on the spot, recounting the time James Taylor told me someone had broken in. I thought it was bullshit. He was sure of it. There were “signs,” whatever that meant.
“What?” I blurt out, my head spinning with confusion. “How can you be so sure?”
“Because I’ve been in town keeping an eye on him, just in case I need to move.”
I scoff. “And you didn’t think to pop in and say hi to the daughter you abandoned for nine years?”
“It was too risky with them watching and everything. They assumed we were still in contact, and that following you around would lead them to me. I couldn’t feed into that assumption.
“Right.” I need strong caffeine. And a year to wrap my head around the bombs my father’s just dropped. “So, you left me nine years ago for a woman who pretended to love you, but was actually a scammer, correct?”
“Correct.”
“Her partner is a street hacker who’s now hired someone to track you down.
” I frown, unsure how all of this can be resolved.
“You definitely can’t pay the two hundred thousand bucks?
” I don’t know why I’m asking him this. It’s pretty self-explanatory that he can’t.
He’s living in ruin. It doesn’t get any worse than this.
“What about the police?”
“I’ve already had a few issues with them over the years.”
I rake a hand through my hair, tipping back my head. I search the ceiling for the will to live and find killer mold there instead.
“I didn’t want to see you in person, but I’ve been trying to get a SIM card sorted out.”
“Pay phones exist.”
“They’re too risky, and also too public. Ideally, I wanted to get in contact with you before now about the fire.”
“About the insurance payout, or to check in on me?” I scratch my scalp, my head swirling with too many thoughts and emotions. But the second I lock eyes with my father, all I feel is grief. “You have a grandson, by the way.”
“Yes. I thought the boy was yours.”
Unbelievable. Still just as distant as he was back when he was in my life.
And the phrase “in my life” is putting it very loosely, seeing as he was always galivanting off somewhere, forgetting about school pickup and dinner.
Even nine years and one child later, I’m still pulled into my father’s mess somehow. He owes an astronomical amount of money to a man who is pushing for time, and needs my help.
“My hands are tied if you think I can help you with this.”
Let’s be honest—he didn’t call me here to check in on my well-being. This is about him escaping trouble. He’s done well to avoid it for this long, and has no doubt been running from the bad guys ever since I was a child.
“I set my house on fire for money,” I say.
“Crazy, I know, but at the time I thought it was the only choice I had. Sonny—the grandson you’re not entitled to meet, by the way, needed some new clothes.
He deserved better, and finances were running incredibly low.
A small insurance payout would’ve gotten him some new clothes, and other things he deserved to have. ”
“Small” is the key word here. Bad things always start small. It was the same with my father’s gambling.
His genetics have always been inside of me…
“You set the house on fire?” He purses what’s left of his lips, confused. “I thought it was the hire.”
“What?”
“He broke into the property the day before the fire. I assumed he planted an explosive in there or something that would obliterate not only you and the house, but me. Death is coming for me, Piper. He must know that I don’t have the funds to pay.”
No matter the outcome, my hands are still tied with the loss assessor investigation.
Except now I have information.
I know who broke into the house the day before it went up in flames. All I have to do is memorize the Chevy license plate next time it’s loitering, and send it over to James Taylor. It should push the investigation forward. It might even get me a payout.
But my father would pay the price…