Chapter 52
Jeremy Roth ends up being much easier to find between the two of them.
He is some sort of investment banker. He’s just as wealthy as my boss, and he’s got a giant house out on Long Island. One thing is for sure: If their child really is Dominic, he is definitely living a charmed life.
I’m not sure what to do though. I can’t call the police and tell them this whole complicated story about the birth certificate.
It’s in an entirely different state, and even back then, they didn’t believe a word I was saying.
It’s hard to imagine that they would start investigating a rich Long Island family just because a former drug addict accused him of stealing her baby with zero evidence.
No, if I want to find out the truth, I have to be smart about it.
But the first thing I need to do is get a look at Theodore. When I see him, I will know for sure if he is my child or not. I’m not sure how I will know, but I just will.
On my day off, I drive out to the island.
I locate the sprawling house that belongs to Jeremy Roth, and I park far enough away that the house is visible, but nobody will think that I am here to visit the family.
I try to imagine the sort of people who would live in a house like that.
I try to imagine what sort of life my son would have if he lived there.
It’s probably not him though. It was a shot in the dark on Lola’s part. I know what she was trying to do, but this boy couldn’t possibly be Dominic. Could he?
While I am parked down the road watching the house, the garage door opens. As a Tesla makes its way out of the garage, I am almost certain that I see a little figure in the back seat. Is that their son, Theodore?
Before I know it, without even having made the decision to, I am following them.
Fortunately, they aren’t going far. After less than ten minutes, the car pulls up next to what looks like a public park. Again, I pull up a distance away from the Tesla, and I watch from the driver’s seat as a man gets out and then helps a little boy out of the car seat in the back.
That must be them. Jeremy and Theodore Roth. My son and the man who might have taken him from me.
I sit in the car for far too long, trying to figure out what to do next.
Finally, I decide to get out. It’s a public park after all.
And this might be my only chance to get a good look at Theodore Roth without drawing attention to myself.
My whole body is tingling at the thought that I might get to see my son again after all these years.
I walk through the gates of the park and wander around until I come to a field, where I find a man and a little boy playing with a soccer ball.
I saw Jeremy Roth’s profile picture on the website of the bank that he works for, but actually, the picture didn’t do him justice.
The man in that photo was brooding and serious, but Jeremy Roth looks happy and athletic, bouncing across the field as he kicks the ball around with his laughing son.
I move closer, trying to get a better look at the little boy. It’s hard to see him, because he has his back to me. But then he turns around and…
I gasp.
Theodore Roth is the spitting image of Clay.
He looks so much like Clay that my head spins. It’s uncanny. Up until this moment, I thought this was a wild goose chase, but something in my heart is telling me that Lola is right. This little boy is my son. This is Dominic.
I stand there, frozen, watching the two of them. I don’t know what to do next. My gut is telling me that this boy is my child, but I can’t go to the police with that. I need something more definitive.
There’s a bench at the edge of the field, and I sit down, still watching them. I take out my phone and send a text to Lola.
I think you’re right. I think this could be Dominic.
Her reply comes back instantly:
What are you going to do?
That is the tricky part. I can’t run up to this little boy and attempt to swab the inside of his mouth. If I do that, I’ll end up in jail. I have to be smart about this.
While I’m racking my brain, trying to figure out what to do next, another boy runs onto the field.
Theodore starts to play with him, and Jeremy Roth takes this as a cue to back off.
To my shock, he strides in the direction of the bench where I am sitting and then plops down into the seat next to mine.
“Whew.” He flashes me a smile as he wipes the sweat off his brow. “I’m getting too old for this.”
I stare at him, stunned that he spoke to me.
Now that I’m getting a close-up of Jeremy Roth, some of my certainty about the identity of that little boy dissipates.
Theodore Roth is a dead ringer for Clay, but at the same time, Clay and Jeremy have a passing resemblance to each other as well.
Both very good-looking, with similar shade and texture of hair—although Jeremy’s is shorter and definitely not blue—and similar shape bone structures.
Jeremy looks a bit like the way Clay might have if he had gotten himself clean and put on about thirty pounds of mostly muscle instead of dropping dead from a heroin overdose at age twenty-six.
That is all to say the little boy’s resemblance to Clay might be a coincidence. But there’s also that sketchy birth certificate. Plus, I just have a feeling that this little boy is Dominic.
“Are you okay?” Jeremy asks me after the silence has dragged on for too long.
“Uh.” I can’t very well tell him what I’m thinking. “You just look a little familiar to me. Have we met?”
“I don’t think so,” he says, and I have to commend him for not coming in with a cheesy line like, I would’ve definitely remembered you. The guy is married after all, based on the gold band on his left hand. “Maybe I have one of those faces.”
“Maybe.” I force a smile, nodding out at the field. “Is that your son out there?”
He nods eagerly, clearly proud of his boy. “That’s Teddy in the green shirt.”
Teddy. They call him Teddy. It’s almost too cute for words.
“How old is he?” I ask, feigning polite interest.
“He’s five.” He tugs at the hem of his slightly sweaty T-shirt. “And he has so much energy. I love it, but I’m almost forty, and it’s hard to keep up.” Then he laughs. “Good problem to have, I guess.”
“I bet he keeps you and your wife busy!”
I don’t think I’m imagining the way his eyes harden at the mention of his wife. But all he says is, “Yeah.”
I want to ask him about a million other questions, starting with whether I can swab his son’s mouth for cheek cells, but I need to restrain myself. “This is a lovely park,” I say instead.
“Oh yeah.” He points to the outer edge of the field. “There’s also a great running trail that goes all the way around the park. I run here Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.”
“I love to run,” I lie. “When is a good time to come?”
“I usually come at six thirty in the morning. It’s very quiet then.”
I flash him a grateful smile. “Thanks for the tip.”
He looks like he’s about to say something else, but then the high-pitched voice of a little boy—Teddy—cuts through the air. “Daddy! Are you done taking a break?”
Jeremy laughs. “Back to work.”
He hops off the bench and trots back into the field to join his son. I can’t help but think to myself that if this really is Dominic, he has scored himself a much better father than Clay Barkley.