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saying? Hundreds it cost for the ticket and hotel and food,” Frank said.
    I took out my wallet and slipped five hundred dollar bills from it, holding them up.
    Frank’s eyes got wide.
    “Let me in. Give me fifteen minutes of your time. I really need to ask you some questions. Please,” I said.
    Frank stepped aside and I could see the wheels turning in his head. I’m not a cynical man, but everyone had their price. I sometimes wondered in times like this if I could’ve gotten my foot in the door with a crisp fifty. I had no time to waste, though. Usually on jobs I could spread it out, enjoy the planning and look at it from all angles.
    This wasn’t a job. This was covering up a job that got away from me from my past. I wondered how many others would someday bite me.
    Before I could sit on his worn couch I was talking, taking in the dull furniture and fading pictures on the walls.
    “I thought I heard you say it wasn’t Will,” I said.
    “William,” Frank said defensively. He was jittery, his hands moving in his lap.
    I put up a hand. “I’m not the cops. Not the FBI.”
    Frank started to rise from his chair. “Then get out of my house.”
    “I was the man who got you Will when he was just a baby,” I said. I knew I was breaking my own rules but I felt the press of time on my shoulders right now. Dancing around the issue and hoping this guy understood was not an option today. Too much at stake, like my life and livelihood.
    “I don’t understand. We adopted from Saint Mark’s.”
    I shook my head. “I’m going to tell you something that can never be repeated, even to your wife. This information is so sensitive because it is dangerous. I need you to nod your head and tell me you get it,” I said. I was playing a dangerous game and I knew it.
    Frank nodded his head.
    “Your son was part of a Mob hit. A very important person. High-ranking mobster. But he wasn’t killed, obviously. He was rescued and hidden away. Given to a nice family in Montreal named Black. Never told where he came from or who he really was. Only. . . maybe the bad guys have figured out who he was. When the body washed ashore I thought it was Will. William. But now you’re telling me it wasn’t him?”
    Frank nodded. I could see the old man was on the verge of tears. His hands had stopped moving.
    “My wife verified it wasn’t William. Not our son, although she said it looked like him. Whoever it was even had his old Army jacket on with the pins,” Frank said.
    “It was definitely his jacket?”
    “Yes. She noticed the rip on the sleeve and he had all these patches sewn onto it and pins from these horribly named musical groups he liked, even as a small child.” Frank put his head down. “He was so angry, even before his teen angst years. So physically violent.”
    “You sent him away?” I asked gently.
    Frank’s head snapped up and there was anger in his eyes. “We threw him out. At twelve. Tossed him into the street like garbage. We never got help for William. We just gave up on the boy.”
    I stared at Frank because I had no follow-up question or comment. I was trying to process this information and see if it was relevant to anything. When Marisa had told me they abandoned the kid I thought she was cutting to the chase. I assumed counseling and individual therapy, maybe family counseling, had been done. All avenues exhausted. Will ran away at twelve and his parents wept for the boy each and every night.
    The Black family had let a child walk away, one they’d sworn to protect. They’d adopted the kid from what was usually a bad situation. Foster care. The system. Birth parents who didn’t want them. Abandonment issues.
    I wanted to punch this old man in the face.
    “That was it?” I asked.
    Frank nodded and reached under the chair cushion, pulling out a flask. He offered me a sip but I declined. He took such a large pull I figured half of the flask was now empty.
    “Did you see Will in the last few years?”
    Frank