9. Chapter 9
Erik
The gate opens with a metallic clatter, and I walk into the prison’s visitor room.
An uneasy knot sits heavy in my stomach, as always when I’m here. Back in the police academy, I got many weird looks once people learned my dad was in jail for armed robbery, a lot of whispering behind my back.
For so many cops, crimes are black and white. Criminals are the bad guys, there are no excuses.
And I mean, they’re not completely wrong. Some of them are black and white. However, I know firsthand how those crimes can come from a very desperate place. How much nuance can go into committing one, how one stupid decision can precede a rat tail of consequences.
“Hey, Dad.” The knot in my stomach eases slightly once I see his familiar face and my more or less perpetual frown softens. It’s always a relief to see he’s okay.
Even prison didn’t rid him of his genuine smile and the little wrinkles it forms in the corner of his eyes. He’s greying and his hairline is taking a hit, but I doubt prison has more to do with it than genes.
“It’s so good to see you, son.” He gets up and greets me with a big hug.
It took me years to get to this place. Aunt Molly used to make me visit my dad in prison, and as a child, way before I understood what it meant, I found it exciting.
Once I reached my teenage years and learned the entire story, coming here filled me with rage.
I missed him, and I was furious with him for messing up our lives and getting himself thrown in a cell for twenty-five years.
Nobody regrets it more than he does.
I can see it in his eyes anytime I visit. Knowing Lilith disappeared, because his stupid decision brought us into the foster system, might be the one thing he’ll never forgive himself for.
The older I got, once hormones weren’t ruling my teenage brain as much anymore, the more I grew to understand his reasons.
Out of nowhere, he had to raise the two of us all alone.
At the same time, he suddenly had to provide for us, all on his own.
There’s also the matter of my mother’s legal costs.
An impossible situation. And when it feels as though you have nothing to lose, you might as well take the high-risk, high-reward path. The risk didn’t pay out in his case, and there’s no way any of us could have predicted what it would lead to.
Mom got out of prison when I was thirteen. Not that it made any difference. She never reached out. Dad got one letter from her, which were divorce papers. Once he signed them, she disappeared without a word or trace.
Which also made me angry. She’s the one who brought us into this mess to begin with, and then she has the audacity to fuck right off?
Whenever people ask me if I believe in the justice system, she is the reason I struggle with my answer.
She destroyed so many lives with her bribery.
She had buildings torn down that meant so much to the community, because someone slipped her money.
Got illegal permits signed off, which led to parts of a building collapsing during construction.
One of the workers lost his foot and another one now has an arm so messed up he’ll never be able to work in construction again.
Yet she’s walking free after only a few years, and my dad, who, yes, tried to rob a bank but didn’t actually hurt a soul, got a quarter of a century behind bars. How is this just?
“Hey, Dad,” I mumble against his shoulder and hug him a little tighter. “It’s good to see you.”
“It’s good to see you too, son.” He takes a deep breath and pats my shoulder. He always waits for me to break the hug. And I will. Soon. I just need two more seconds.
Clearing my throat, I break the hug and take a seat on the cold metal bench.
“How’s it going?” He sits down opposite me. “Is anything exciting going on in Wayward Hollow?”
“For once, there actually is,” I say with a chuckle and rub the back of my neck. “The woman who moved into the last lakeside house found a human skeleton in her backyard.”
“Oh?” He sits down and folds his hands on the table in front of him. “Interesting.”
“Right? Between the two of us, I might actually get to be the lead investigator. Rick is on it for now, but I doubt it's the kind of case he wants to keep.”
“That’s wonderful! I know you’ll do well! But-“ He leans in and searches my face. “Pray tell, why did your eyes light up when you mentioned the woman who moved found it?”
I stare at him and blink. Am I that obvious?
“You’re annoyingly perceptive.” I bite the inside of my cheek to contain a grin.
“Obviously. Where do you think you got it from?” He rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. “What’s her name?”
“Kylie,” I mumble and stare at the table.
“And this Kylie.” His grin widens. “Is she cute?”
“Yes, she is.” And there goes my attempt to hide a smile. “But don’t go and think you’ll have a daughter in law soon.” Or at all. “We met each other for the first time when they called me in. Though she did spend the night at my place,” I can’t help but add.
I didn’t think his grin could get any wider, but I’m mistaken.
“Not like that. Anyway.” I pull a thin file out of my bag.
Cho met up with me yesterday, only hours after he left the message. When I got to his office, he pulled up a picture of the woman he suspects could be my sister. I stared at it for what felt like hours, none the wiser.
Maybe it’s her. It’s hard to say. After all, the pictures I can go off are twenty years old, or a pencil sketch of what she might look like as an adult. I was too young when it happened, I don’t have many memories of her or what she looked like. No reliable ones, anyways.
This is the first lead to give me hope, though. There’s some resemblance.
“A buddy of mine might have found a lead.” The smile slowly slips off Dad’s lips and makes place for a sad frown.
“Is that so?”
“I don’t know.” I let out a sigh and take out the picture. After a quick glance at it, I turn it to him and slide it over the table. “What do you think? Is this her?”
He picks the image up and stares at it, without any change in his expression. I watch him. At first, he doesn’t move a muscle. He doesn’t blink and I’m not sure he’s even breathing. Then he lifts it closer to his face and narrows his eyes.
“Is it her?” I ask. My stomach is doing flips. Could this really be it? The breakthrough to finding my sister after all these years?
My bubble of hope bursts, with a loud ‘bang’ in my head, because he shakes his.
“No. It’s not her.” He rubs his glassy eyes and slides the image back my way. “Your sister, she had a little scar on top of her lip from when she ran into a radiator. Right there.” He points at his upper lip, the left corner of his cupids bow.
“Damn,” I mutter and put the photo back in the file. Dropping my head, I curse under my breath. “Fuck.”
“I’m sorry, Erik.”
I shake my head, lips pressed together. “It’s not your fault, Dad.”
“Well, we both know you’re wrong.” His lips stretch into a smile so bitter it breaks my heart.
There are many reasons I became a cop and am still searching for my sister and as contradictory as it might be, he’s the biggest one. Of course I want closure, but more than anything, I want aunt Molly and dad to have it.
Aunt Molly doesn’t show it, but losing Lilith has been gnawing at her.
My dad blames himself, his stupid decision.
I’m convinced he’s taking his extremely long prison sentence as a punishment for what happened to her.
I’ve asked him countless times to let me get him a lawyer and try to get his sentenced reduced, but whenever I do, he only lowers his head and shakes it.
Like he gave up.
It’s the reason I keep pushing and searching.
For him. For aunt Molly. Even though I know the statistics and am more than aware how miniscule my chance to find her alive is.
Some days I wonder if it’s worth it to keep searching.
But the glimmer of hope on dad’s face when I slide the picture his way—that’s the reason I don’t give up.
“Speaking of unpleasant things,” he says with a hoarse voice and clears his throat. “Your mother recently sent me a letter.”
My jaw drops. “What?”
“I couldn’t believe it myself.” He shakes his head with a humorless chuckle. “I haven’t heard from her since she had me sign the divorce papers.”
“What did she want?”
“Nothing important. She only wanted to rub her new, ‘so much better’ life in my face.” He lifts his hands for air quotes. “Disguised as an ‘I hope you’re well.’ I didn’t answer her, obviously. Just a warning, in case she sends you one, too.”
“Thank you.” Honestly, to me, that woman died the moment she got out of prison and decided to fuck off. As much as I’m giving my father the benefit of the doubt, she doesn’t deserve it.
When I was twelve, I found a copy of her file in aunt Molly’s attic. She knew what she was doing, every step of the way, never caring about repercussions and the effect her actions had on innocent people.
She never contacted me when she was in prison. And since dad is aunt Molly’s brother, she never felt obligated to make me visit mom in prison. She would have gone with me had I asked her to, I’m sure of it. I simply never felt the urge to.
“Who knows, maybe she won’t send you one.” He scoffs and taps his fingertips against the table. “Either way, I wanted you to be aware.”
“Thank you, Dad.”
I stay for a while longer. We talk about aunt Molly and the last book I sent to him. Terry Pratchett. A bookseller recommended the author to me and the first book I had delivered to him showed me it hit the mark. I’ve never seen his face light up so much when talking about a book.
I have my own copy at home. It’s not quite my cup of tea, but I’ll read it anyways.
Once the teenage-anger at him lessened, I started missing him a lot. Aunt Molly was the one to suggest reading books together and it’s one of the best ideas she ever had.
By the time one of the wardens signals that it’s time for me to leave, it’s already dark outside.
“Don’t beat yourself up over Lilith,” dad says as I get up to say goodbye.
“You too, alright, Dad?” His pained expression tells me it’s as useless to ask of him as telling an angry person to ‘calm down.’
“I’ll try.” He promises with a nod. I’ll forgive him for breaking this one.
“It’s all we can do.” I step into his hug and return it just as tightly.
“I hope you’ll find her, son,” he mumbles and pats my back. When he steps back, his eyes are glassy and he runs his palm over his face.
“Never losing hope,” I assure him and clear my throat. At this point, all I really hope for is that I can keep my promise.