Chapter 18
Judd gave Braedon a fingerprint kit for his birthday, and after playing with it for a few days, Braedon stuck it on the upper shelf of his closet under boxes of board games. The next morning before breakfast, Clay asks if he and Grandpa can borrow it.
Braedon says, “Did someone break into Grandpa’s house and you’re trying to find out who did it?”
“No,” says Clay. He doesn’t want to tell Braedon about the earring and ransom note, so he just says, “We’re going to dust some of Uncle Teddy’s things so we can give his fingerprints to the police. That way they’ll have them just in case.”
Braedon buys Clay’s excuse, even though, if he thought it through, he’d realize the police already have Teddy’s fingerprints from his multiple stumbles onto the other side of the law.
But most twelve-year-old boys don’t stop to think things through.
Instead of questioning the logic of his father’s plan, Braedon pitches Emily’s idea of Daniel giving the bike back to the boys and then, after a few days, the police arresting the boys and giving the bike back to its rightful owner.
Clay thinks about it as they’re getting into the truck. “Are those boys giving Daniel a hard time?”
Braedon doesn’t want to tell his father the whole story, but he’s talked himself into a corner and doesn’t see a way out. “Yeah,” he says. “They want him to rob something for them.”
“Steal,” says Clay.
“What?”
“We say steal in America. They say rob back in Ireland.”
“Oh. Well. Yeah, then. They want Daniel to steal something for them. They say he has to because they gave him the bike.”
“And when did you discuss this with Emily?”
“Last night while you were at Grandpa’s. She called me because she got the time difference wrong. But I was mostly up because I just got done texting with Daniel. That’s how I know about them wanting him to r—steal something.”
“Let me think about Emily’s idea,” said Clay.
“Maybe I’ll run it by the chief of police.
I’ll be sure to give Emily credit.” Clay glances over at Braedon in the passenger seat for a reaction, but Braedon thinks Clay’s being serious about giving Emily credit.
“In the meantime, you should text Daniel and tell him not to steal something or do anything else for those boys until he hears back from you.”
Braedon nods. Makes sense.
They stop first at Deb and Teddy’s doublewide to pick up some of Teddy’s things.
This tracks with the excuse Clay gave Braedon about dusting them for Teddy’s prints, which is the truth.
Clay only lied by omission about also dusting the rock, ransom note, and Teddy’s earring.
Braedon’s waiting in the car when Deb opens the door.
She leans against the doorjamb and manages a smile. “Come on in, Clay. I have some of Teddy’s things all ready to go.”
In the kitchen, Clay looks over what Deb has gathered for him and Judd. Teddy’s toothbrush and hairbrush, a few tortoise-shell guitar picks, his fly-tying vise, and several puzzle pieces from one end of a puzzle that Teddy and Deb were working on together before Teddy disappeared.
“Thanks for putting all this together. We should find plenty of prints.”
“Don’t the police have Teddy’s prints?” says Deb. She is smarter than a twelve-year-old boy.
“They should,” says Clay, “but with all the digitizing of records and storing them in a central server, we don’t want to take any chances.” The excuse is completely fabricated, but it sounds good enough for Deb to stop asking questions. “How are you holding up?”
Deb cuts three pieces from a carrot cake she made last night.
“Baking takes my mind off things,” she says.
She seals them in cling wrap and adds, “But to answer your question, I feel tired. And strangely calm. You know how it is when you spend so much time and energy worrying that something bad will happen, but when it actually does happen, it somehow isn’t as bad as the worrying? ”
“Like when you’re a kid,” says Clay, “worrying about getting a shot at the doctor is ten times worse than actually getting the shot.”
“Kind of,” says Deb. “It’s more about control, I think.
When Teddy wasn’t in any trouble, when he was home safe and sound, I was constantly thinking about what I could do to keep it that way.
I cooked dinners he loved. We watched a lot of TV together.
I even found a way to love watching sports the way he does.
I thought he might watch less sports as he aged.
That his interest would wane. But just the opposite happened.
Especially lately. I’ve had to find a way to share that with him.
I figured out if I read about the players to learn their personal stories, what they’ve overcome and things like that, then I have something to cheer for.
I watch so much with him. And he loves it. ”
Deb puts the three wrapped pieces of cake on a paper plate and secures them all together with a second layer of cling wrap. She hands it to Clay and says, “For you, Braedon, and Judd.”
“Thank you.”
Deb carries the knife over to the sink and, with her back to Clay, says, “You know, I had this constant hum of anxiety about doing everything I could to keep Teddy out of trouble. Even in my sleep I felt it. But now there’s nothing I can do.
I guess it’s more like when you’re a caregiver to a terminally ill person.
When they finally die, it’s terrible. But it’s also a relief because your responsibility to them is gone forever.
There’s some guilt that comes along with it.
And a whole lot of sadness. But whatever has happened or is happening with Teddy, it’s out of my hands.
I feel both relieved and so damn guilty.
So guilty about the relief.” She turns around to face Clay.
“God, I hope he’s okay. But that’s all I can do. Hope.”
Braedon’s down in Judd’s basement playing FIFA on the PS5 Judd bought for his grandson’s visits. Judd and Clay are upstairs and have just discovered that there are no fingerprints on the envelope, letter, tape, or earring. No fingerprints at all. Which means someone took the time to wipe them off.
“That’s inconclusive,” says Judd. “Best to assume the note is legit. The bank’s going to call when the cash is ready. I used to have a bear canister around here somewhere but I think I got rid of it. My boundary waters days are over.”
“I’ll run up to Rochester and get one.”
“Appreciate it,” says Judd. “This morning I woke up dreaming about Teddy. He just walked up to me looking like he wanted to apologize, and I gave him a big hug. It felt so damn real, you know? One of those kind of dreams you’re sorry to wake up from.”
Clay looks at his father. It’s the most introspective thing he has ever heard come out of Judd’s mouth.
And it wasn’t all that introspective. But it gives him a glimpse into a man he doesn’t know.
Judd’s not a hugger in real life, but apparently he is in his dreams. “Are you glad you had that dream?” says Clay.
“Or did it feel like the rug getting yanked out from under you?”
“No,” says Judd. “I’m glad I had the dream. Better to see Teddy in my sleep than not at all.”
Both men feel something strange. An unfamiliar air.
It’s cooperation. The change is not touchy-feely.
It’s not like two old friends hit a bump and now they’re back to being best pals.
In fact, the feeling is so unfamiliar between father and son, they hardly recognize what’s happening.
It is, in reality and at least for the moment, a thaw.
But all they know is that something feels different.
And different doesn’t necessarily mean better.
What they feel is an absence. An absence of animosity.
An animosity that’s been between them from Clay’s earliest memories.
And for Judd, an animosity that came home from the hospital with Clay bundled in his rear-facing car seat as Pam sat in back with him.
Taking home her baby for the first time. Along with her cancer diagnosis.
“Forty-five thousand dollars is a lot of money,” says Clay. “You sure you want to do this?”
“You got any other ideas?” says Judd. His tone is earnest, not challenging.
“A couple,” says Clay. “One is we don’t put money in the canister.
We booby-trap it. The kidnapper will either open it on the spot to check the contents or take it to another location to open it.
Either way, when they do open it, it will trigger a stun grenade or noxious gas or even pepper spray.
Something that disables the kidnapper long enough for us to get there and take them into custody. ”
“You know how to do something like that?”
Clay hesitates. “No. Of course not. Maybe we should bring Zoey into it. Neither of us has the authority to pepper bomb or zip-tie or—”
“You think the police do?” says Judd. “They’d get in a hell of a lot more trouble than we would.
Plus a good criminal defense attorney would have a field day with a booby-trapped canister.
What if a kid fishes it out of there? Or just an innocent bystander who happens to be on the river?
Could lead to lawsuits against you and me.
And if we involve Zoey, lawsuits against the Riverwood Police Department and maybe even the city.
And worst of all, whoever took Teddy will likely walk free. ”
“You think we’d get sued?”
“This is America,” says Judd. “We’d definitely get sued. Even if we catch the right person. Clay, I like your thinking on this, but I’d rather stick with my plan. The question we have to ask ourselves is: Why would someone kidnap Teddy?”
“I agree,” says Clay. “Why Teddy?”
“The answer that keeps popping into my head is the kidnapper has a grudge against me. Someone who’s blaming me for their problems. That happens to cops.
Maybe the kidnapper is a person I arrested or the kid of a person I sent to prison.
Someone who missed out on a chunk of their life or grew up without their daddy because mean old Judd Hawkins did his job.
This feels like payback to me. And Teddy’s not exactly difficult prey.
Good-natured and trusting and tries to get along with everyone. It’d be easy to lure him into a trap.
“My guess is the kidnapper is trying to even things out, and forty-five grand of my retirement savings will do the trick. Legal tender for my beloved brother. That’s why I want to play this one straight up. Cash for Teddy. If we catch ’em after, great. If we don’t, we’ll still have Teddy.”
Clay pauses to check in with himself. Does he agree with Judd or is he just not wanting to rock the boat during their unofficial ceasefire?
He decides Judd’s reasoning is solid. This isn’t a military mission.
Some lowlife nabbed Teddy and is trying to profit from it.
Disabling or injuring that person might lead to all sorts of problems. One of them Judd didn’t even mention.
The kidnapper could be fatally injured by a booby-trapped canister, especially if they open it on the bank of the river.
The chance of drowning is real. If that happened, they may never find Teddy.
“Meet you back here at ten o’clock tonight?
” says Clay. “That’ll give us plenty of time to pack the money into the canister and get to the bridge. ”
“Sorry, Clay. I’m flying solo tonight.”
“You think that’s a good idea?” says Clay.
“I do,” says Judd. “That’s why I said it.”
Clay nods. “Okay,” he says. “I’ll drop off the bear canister then leave you to it.”