Chapter 9 Following His Fathers Footsteps #3
"Exactly."
They laughed.
Then Terrence grew quiet.
"There's something else."
Tan looked over.
Terrence reached into his jacket.
He pulled out an envelope.
Tan stared at it.
"What is that?"
"Something I've had for a few years."
Tan's smile faded.
Terrence handed it to him.
Inside was a photocopy of a corporate filing.
Tan scanned the page.
His eyes stopped.
JIN LEE.
He looked up sharply.
"Where did you get this?"
"Public records."
"When?"
"Several years ago."
Tan stood.
"You've had this for years?"
"Sit down."
"Dad—"
"Tan."
His father's tone made him stop.
Reluctantly, he sat.
Terrence continued.
"I didn't tell you because it wasn't proof."
Tan stared at the paper.
The filing listed a company that had once controlled several warehouses and import businesses connected to older Lee family holdings.
The officer inside Tan immediately began dissecting it.
"Date of birth?"
"Not listed."
"Social?"
"Redacted."
"Current address?"
"The company dissolved. The building's empty."
"Did you check business licenses?"
"Yes."
"Tax records?"
"What I could legally access."
"Property?"
"Dead ends."
Tan stared at the name.
"Could be him."
"Could be."
"Could also be one of ten thousand Jin Lees."
"Exactly."
Tan rubbed his thumb across the paper.
"Why give it to me tonight?"
Terrence looked at his badge.
"Because you're not a child anymore."
Tan lifted his eyes.
"And because now you understand something you didn't at eighteen."
"What's that?"
"The difference between wanting an answer and having evidence."
Tan nodded slowly.
"Don't use that badge to investigate your biological family."
The warning surprised him.
"I wasn't going to."
"Good."
"Department databases are not your personal search engine."
"I know."
"Don't cross that line."
"I won't."
Terrence studied him.
"I mean it."
"So do I."
Tan looked back at the document.
"You think he's alive?"
Terrence exhaled.
"I think it's possible."
That was enough to make Tan's heart beat faster.
For years, Jin had existed mostly as a memory.
A teenage face.
A promise in darkness.
A pinky wrapped around his own.
Now there was ink on paper.
Maybe his brother had grown up.
Maybe he'd built a life.
Maybe he'd searched.
Maybe he hadn't.
Tan folded the document carefully.
"I wanna find him."
"I know."
"But the right way."
Terrence nodded.
"The right way."
Tan placed the page back inside the envelope.
Something had changed.
Not solved.
Changed.
The future no longer felt like a blank wall.
There was a crack now.
A name.
A company.
A possibility.
And Tan intended to follow it someday.
But first—
He had a career to begin.
His first year in uniform humbled him quickly.
The academy had taught procedures.
The streets taught people.
Tan learned that no two domestic calls sounded the same after the front door opened.
He learned that frightened witnesses forgot details and guilty people sometimes cried convincingly.
He learned that children watched everything.
He learned that elderly residents often called the police because they were lonely as much as afraid.
He learned that paperwork lasted longer than adrenaline.
He learned that his father's reputation followed him into every station.
"Oh, you're David's kid?"
Tan heard it constantly.
Sometimes it helped.
Sometimes it irritated him.
He wanted to earn respect rather than inherit it.
Terrence understood and rarely interfered.
Their relationship changed subtly.
They were still father and son.
But now there were conversations only two police officers could have.
Calls that didn't need much explanation.
The particular silence after witnessing death.
The frustration of doing everything legally and watching someone walk away anyway.
The relief of returning home after a dangerous shift.
Sometimes Tan stopped by his parents' house at midnight after work.
Terrence would be sitting at the kitchen table.
Neither asked why the other was awake.
Coffee appeared.
Conversation followed.
Eva complained that they were turning her kitchen into a precinct.
They ignored her.
She continued making sandwiches for both of them.
Meanwhile, the other David children were building futures of their own.
Travis excelled in law school.
His professors described him as brilliant, relentless, and occasionally exhausting.
Terrence considered that accurate.
After clerking with a respected civil-rights attorney, Travis began talking seriously about becoming a defense lawyer.
Tan nearly choked at dinner.
"A defense lawyer?"
Travis looked at him.
"Yes."
"So I'm gonna arrest people and you're gonna get them out?"
"If you do your job properly, maybe I won't have to."
Tan stared.
Terrence immediately pointed between them.
"Absolutely not."
Both brothers looked at him.
"I have spent twenty-three years raising y'all."
He pointed at Travis.
"You are not turning my dinner table into court."
Then at Tan.
"And you are not turning it into an interrogation room."
Eva took another bite of food.
"I'd actually like to hear this."
Terrence looked at her.
"Why?"
"It's entertaining."
Ella agreed.
"Very."
Travis smiled smugly.
Tan pointed at him.
"You're gonna be unbearable."
"I'm gonna be successful."
"Same thing in your case."
They argued for twenty minutes.
Harold laughed until he cried.
Gloria prayed aloud for patience.
Ella flourished in nursing school.
The child who once carried Bunny through the house became a confident young woman with Eva's compassion and Terrence's stubbornness.
She completed clinical rotations at the same hospital where Eva still worked.
On her first day, Eva proudly introduced her to everyone on the floor.
By lunch, Ella threatened to transfer hospitals.
"She showed them my baby pictures."
Tan laughed so hard he nearly spilled his drink.
"Which ones?"
"The bathtub one."
"No!"
"Yes."
Travis nearly fell off the couch.
Eva walked through the room.
"I don't know why you're embarrassed. You were adorable."