Chapter 2
“Can I shoot for a while before breakfast?” says Braedon.
“Sure,” says Judd. He pats his grandson on the shoulder and adds, “Go out back and set up the cans. I’ll bring the gun out in a minute.”
“Thanks, Grandpa.” Braedon practically skips into the house and toward the sliding glass door that leads to the redwood deck out back. Clay remains on the front porch. His father didn’t invite him inside, and Clay doesn’t much want to go inside. He wants to get on the river.
This is the house Clay grew up in. One above-ground story and a half-submerged basement with a walkout to the backyard. This is the house Clay swore he’d never return to. But life has a way of teaching cocksure eighteen-year-olds what’s what.
“Okay to pick him up at around three?” says Clay.
Judd nods. He is clean-shaven and wears his hair in a crew cut.
Six months off the police force and Judd still keeps his hair high and tight.
Clay guesses it’s more out of frugality than holding on to some military-like semblance of order.
Judd cuts his own hair with electric clippers.
Number one guard on the sides. Number three guard on top.
With some semiskilled blending between the two.
“You sure it’s okay to have Braedon here? I don’t want to keep you from searching for Teddy.”
Judd looks at his son. Three months after Clay’s return, Judd is still surprised he’s here.
He figured they’d never live in the same town again, let alone the same country.
Judd had written Clay off as an irrecoverable loss.
Clay showing up all of sudden feels like a second chance for Judd, but it’s a chance he’s not sure how to take.
“I’ve been all over the county the last twenty-four hours,” says Judd. “Better I stay home for a while rather than drive around like I’m looking for a lost dog. But I’ll hit the bars tonight and ask around. Somebody has to know where Teddy is.”
Clay nods. He and his father are capable of communicating, but it’s like they’re talking through a wall. The words get through, but not much else.
“Call me if you change your mind,” says Clay. “I’ll check in with Deb at the property.”
“And keep an eye out for Teddy on the river?” says Judd. “Deb says his fishing stuff is all at home, but you never know. He could have taken just one rod and reel and walked down without waders.”
“Of course,” says Clay, although he knows if he finds Teddy on the river after being missing over twenty-four hours, it’ll be a grisly discovery. “Hate to ask this,” adds Clay, “but—”
“No,” says Judd with an edge in his voice.
He doesn’t intend to sound riled but the reaction is so ingrained when talking to Clay, it’s hard for Judd to curb it.
“Teddy didn’t fall off the wagon. Earned his fifteen-year chip last month and was proud as hell about it.
Posted it on Facebook and everything. He’d miss one of our funerals before he’d miss one of his meetings. ”
“What did Chief Jensen say?” Clay sees the cords tense in his father’s neck. He’s struck a nerve, though he had no intention of doing so.
“I don’t need to talk to Zoey Jensen,” says Judd. “Talked to Sue, Mike, and Andy. They’re keeping an eye out.”
Clay can feel the conversation moving into dangerous waters.
Ordinarily he’d drop it, but he’s concerned that Judd’s closeness to Teddy is obscuring the old cop’s judgment.
There’s no time to waste. Judd will survive another clash with his son.
He may not survive the loss of Teddy. “But Chief Jensen—”
“She’s not from here,” says Judd. “She doesn’t have the contacts. She doesn’t know the backroads. I don’t need to talk to Zoey Jensen.”
“Don’t be stubborn,” says Clay. His tone is firm but calm. “Swallow your pride and call the chief of police.” Then he tries to throw a blanket on the fire by adding, “For Teddy.”
“I know how this town works a lot better than you do,” says Judd. “I’m not the one who left for twenty-four years.”
“Whatever you’re pissed off about,” says Clay, maintaining his calm, “don’t take it out on the new chief. She didn’t push you out. She didn’t even live here when the city council asked you to step down.”
“Fired me,” says Judd. “They fired me. Don’t sugarcoat it.
” Judd looks at his son with cold, hard eyes.
Talk about old habits. It’s as if he doesn’t know how to look at Clay any other way.
Seeing Pam’s eyes in Clay’s, Judd wonders if he’s fully processed his wife’s death.
Even all these years later. Does he blame Clay, even subconsciously, rather than the real culprit, cancer?
Or if Pam’s pregnancy did make the disease more difficult to detect, then maybe he should blame himself. Pam didn’t get pregnant on her own.
Clay’s picking up on none of this and won’t back down.
He appreciates Judd’s relationship with Braedon, but after being gone for twenty-four years, his father needs to understand that Clay is no longer a child.
It’s man-to-man now, not man-to-boy. “Call Chief Jensen. You owe it to Teddy. And you owe it to Riverwood.”
“Oh,” says Judd. “Sure. Now you’re talking about loyalty.
That’s rich coming from you, Clay. The army admits you to the finest military institution in the world.
The government foots the bill. How do you repay them?
By serving the minimum five years. First day you could, you resigned your commission and headed off to Europe to kick a ball for your adoring fans.
You have no sense of duty or honor. No sense of loyalty to the country that made you who you are.
Hell, I still don’t know why you came back here. ”
Clay’s about to turn and walk away when the thought comes to him. “Do you wish I hadn’t come back? Do you wish Braedon and I had stayed in Europe? Because I have standing offers to coach back there if we’ve ruined your life by moving to Riverwood.”
It’s a threat Judd doesn’t take lightly. He checks himself. Takes a deep breath, then another. Then he lowers his voice to just above a whisper and says, “You know how much I love that boy. Don’t you dare take him away from me.”
“Yeah,” says Clay, “I do know how much you love that boy.” Clay’s insinuation is clear and it hits his father hard. Judd looks like he’s about to counter when Clay adds, “See you at three.” He turns his back on his father and walks to his F-150 without another word from Judd.