LITMIR.BIZ

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reputation — shame and hatred and a damaged psyche — now there could begin the restoration of a proper memory, for whatever it was worth.

      If and when the day came that Craig Killingworth’s bones could be scooped out of the bay, Dan thought, that part of him could be put to rest as well. Till then, at least, there was this small triumph to be thankful for.

      Twenty-Seven

      Goodbye, Again

      A week went by, followed by another. He heard nothing further from Pete Saylor or Ted Killingworth, though every time his phone rang he half-expected to hear Larry Fiske’s oily rasp threatening him with legal action for his part in helping Ted confront his mother. Even if Ted said nothing to implicate him, they would know Dan had helped in some way to restore his father’s legacy.

      Ked stayed on at Kendra’s for the time being, at least until Dan could be sure everything had returned to normal and there were no further risks to him or his son. One night he saw Bill out surrounded by friends at a crowded Danforth bar, but either Bill hadn’t seen him or he discreetly avoided looking in his direction till he left.

      Dan had returned to his work, but most evenings he spent alone at home. He’d had enough of other people’s company for now. He seldom answered the phone, though the one time he did he was surprised to hear the voice of his former-neighbour, Steve.

      “How are you?” Dan asked, genuinely pleased.

      “I’m fine. Really well, Dan!” There was enthusiasm and warmth in the voice. It sounded like the old Steve again.

      Steve thanked him again for having met with him that late night in the fall. It had made all the difference, he said. Just knowing there was someone who cared whether he lived or died had made him want to get back on his feet.

      “Things are going better then?”

      “Yes. I started back at work last week.” He paused. “And I’ve met someone … she’s fantastic!”

      It was as simple as that, Dan thought. Steve’s real medicine was a new love. He suspected Steve had dependency issues among his other problems. Maybe you’re being cynical, he told himself. Stop searching for the cloud behind every silver lining.

      Steve insisted on a get-together. He wanted Dan to meet his new girlfriend, who, Steve assured him, would just love Dan. Yes, she was that terrific. They chatted for a while and exchanged promises to hook up. Later, Dan walked Ralph and then turned on the television to pass the time. He’d just turned it off and gone upstairs to check his email when the phone rang again.

      “Oh, god, Daniel,” he heard Kendra croak out.

      His heart leaped into his throat. A dozen scenarios, all ending in Ked’s death, careened through his mind. “What is it?” He envisioned a photograph of his son beneath a headline outlining the city’s latest traffic fatality. Something to do with a faulty skateboard or a bicycle spoke left unmended that had caused a fatal spill.

      “Something terrible’s happened to Ked’s best friend.”

      “Who?” he said, uncomprehending. “Who is his best friend?”

      Kendra’s voice shook. “A boy he goes to school with. I thought you would know who it is.”

      Dan felt sick. “I can’t think right now. What happened?”

      “It was a drive-by shooting. Ked’s friend was shot and killed.” She paused. “He’s very broken up. I don’t know what to tell him.”

      Dan heard her speaking to Ked. “Sweetheart? Do you want to speak to your father?”

      Dan waited while the phone was passed.

      “Dad?”

      “I’m here.”

      Ked was whimpering into the phone. “Someone killed Eph!”

      An image of the skinny black kid on the corner flashed before Dan’s eyes.

      “We heard about it after school,” Ked said, breaking into sobs.

      “I’m so sorry, Ked.”

      Dan had no idea what to say to his son to console him for his loss, for the encroaching edges of life bearing down on him. He was also terrifyingly grateful it had not been his son who had been killed, though he could scarcely bring himself to think this. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so helpless.

      Kendra came back on the line. “Danny, he’s too upset to talk.”

      “Should I wait?”

      “No. I’ll get him to call back later when he’s feeling better.”

      “Okay. Tell him I love him.”

      “All right.”

      Dan held onto the receiver until the line went dead. He went back to the TV and turned it on, waiting for the news.

      There was a new receptionist behind the glass at Martin’s office, though she wore the same blank look as her predecessor. Martin didn’t mention the change and Dan didn’t ask.

      The topic most on Dan’s mind was the death of Ked’s friend, Ephraim Adituye, a bright kid seemingly with everything to live for. Martin nodded in understanding. He’d heard the news reports. The entire city was reeling from the killing — not the first of its kind in recent memory.

      “How are you feeling about this?” Martin asked solemnly.

      Dan sat crumpled in the chair. He shook his head, bewildered by the question. How would anyone feel? Shocked. Angered. Vulnerable. At last, he said, “In a world where kids get shot by absolute strangers … why is it I scare my own son? Why is that?”

      Martin stared without answering.

      “I saved a kid the other day,” Dan went on. “And I had to break the law to do it.” He hadn’t intended to say anything about Lester, but there it was. Dan waited for Martin to write this down, but he simply sat there.

      At last, Martin said, “Why did you have to break the law to do it?”

      “Because his parents would have destroyed him. Because in order to save him, I had to keep him from his family. Some people would call me a monster for doing that.”

      “Some might call you a hero for making a moral choice.”

      Dan looked up. “I’m not sure it was a choice. Something needed to be done to save him.”

      “Why do you need to save people?” Martin asked.

      Dan shook his head. “That’s what I do — I save people. From themselves. From their shitty lives. From the world.”

      “You save them or you locate them?”

      “Same thing, isn’t it?”

      “Is it?”

      Dan had come here to talk about the death of a fourteen-year-old boy and all that Ephraim’s death said about a corrupt and seemingly pointless world. He hoped this wasn’t about to become another meaningless conversation. Neither he nor Martin spoke for a full minute. Martin had never let him sit in unbroken silence for so long.

      Martin cleared his throat. “Is there anything else you’d like to talk about today?” he said at last.

      Dan shook his head. “Actually, no.” He stood and reached for his coat, then paused at the door. After a moment, he turned back to Martin. “I don’t think I’ll be coming here again.”

      Martin looked down at his sheet. “I’ll have to fill out the report,” he said.

      Dan nodded. “It’s what you get paid for.” He stood there trying to think of something to say. He thought Martin looked scared. Had he never had a patient walk out on him before?

      Martin looked up again. “Did you ever think of saving yourself

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