occasional piece of artwork that he’d been hired to hunt down.
“Have you found anything?” I asked cautiously.
Matt shook his head. “I told the parents when they hired me that we’d probably never know anything. The trail has been cold too long, and if she was still out there she would’ve found a way to contact them by now, if that’s what she wanted. In all likelihood, she died years ago.”
“So why are you looking?” I asked. “Is it the money?” I knew that there’d been a few times when Matt had ended up living out of his office because he couldn’t afford an apartment.
“Nah, I stopped charging them years ago. Told them they were wasting their money. We ended up agreeing that they’d comp me meals in exchange for me keeping up with it. It’s not that much, really. I keep an eye on morgues, halfway houses. Sometimes if I’m talking with working girls or druggies, I’ll flash her photo, see if anyone recognizes it. Run Web searches for her name every now and then. Whenever I’m out of town I’ll stop by the local police station, ask around.”
That didn’t sound like not much to me, but the waitresscame by and set a huge plate of food in front of each of us. Matt took a big bite out of his burger, and I gnawed away at some fries for a second, thinking about everything.
We ate in silence for a few minutes before I finally asked my question. “So, why keep looking?”
Matt lifted his eyebrows. “She’s their kid, Fort. They’re never going to stop until they have an answer.”
“Not them, you. She’s not your kid, and you don’t know her. You’re not getting paid for this.” Matt looked annoyed, and I rushed to explain. “I’m not trying to be a jerk and say you shouldn’t. I just really want to understand.”
Matt chewed for a long second, considering. “It’s like this,” he said finally, speaking in a low, tight voice. “When I was a cop, I saw a lot of really bad stuff. People whose kids or parents just disappeared one day, never to be seen again. Or someone was murdered, and we never really found out why.” We very carefully didn’t look at each other for that, because I knew he was talking about Jill and Brian. “And you could see how it just tore people’s lives apart. We’d look for a while, but eventually the brass would sit you down and say that it wasn’t going anywhere, and that you had to move on to something else. Now, though, I don’t have anyone saying that I can’t keep looking, and I always think to myself, what if I stopped and I could’ve actually found something if I just kept on it? Give someone answers, give some closure, or maybe even bring someone home who might not get there if I wasn’t there to help. And once I think that, I feel responsible, like I have to keep going.” Matt gave a small shrug, then an uncomfortable smile. We usually didn’t get this deep. “I’m starting to feel like I’m in achick flick, all this feelings shit, Fort. We’re going to have to start talking about baseball.”
We both laughed for a minute, and then I glanced over at him again. I remembered that when I was little, Matt always seemed to be laughing, and that he had a revolving series of girlfriends, but now there were a lot of frown lines around his perpetually tight-lipped mouth, and I knew that his relationships usually couldn’t outlast green bananas. I felt like I wanted to ask him more about it, but he was clearly uncomfortable, so I let it go while he started a long monologue about the Red Sox that lasted through the rest of the meal.
When we were heading out, the waitress waved us off, pocketing the check, and I knew that she must know about the owners, and who Matt was. My stomach was full, but for a second I thought about the owner, still looking for a daughter who he must know was dead, and I actually felt guilty for the free meal.
My guilt lasted through Matt dropping me back off and the rest of my shift. I managed to miss my bus again,
“Have you found anything?” I asked cautiously.
Matt shook his head. “I told the parents when they hired me that we’d probably never know anything. The trail has been cold too long, and if she was still out there she would’ve found a way to contact them by now, if that’s what she wanted. In all likelihood, she died years ago.”
“So why are you looking?” I asked. “Is it the money?” I knew that there’d been a few times when Matt had ended up living out of his office because he couldn’t afford an apartment.
“Nah, I stopped charging them years ago. Told them they were wasting their money. We ended up agreeing that they’d comp me meals in exchange for me keeping up with it. It’s not that much, really. I keep an eye on morgues, halfway houses. Sometimes if I’m talking with working girls or druggies, I’ll flash her photo, see if anyone recognizes it. Run Web searches for her name every now and then. Whenever I’m out of town I’ll stop by the local police station, ask around.”
That didn’t sound like not much to me, but the waitresscame by and set a huge plate of food in front of each of us. Matt took a big bite out of his burger, and I gnawed away at some fries for a second, thinking about everything.
We ate in silence for a few minutes before I finally asked my question. “So, why keep looking?”
Matt lifted his eyebrows. “She’s their kid, Fort. They’re never going to stop until they have an answer.”
“Not them, you. She’s not your kid, and you don’t know her. You’re not getting paid for this.” Matt looked annoyed, and I rushed to explain. “I’m not trying to be a jerk and say you shouldn’t. I just really want to understand.”
Matt chewed for a long second, considering. “It’s like this,” he said finally, speaking in a low, tight voice. “When I was a cop, I saw a lot of really bad stuff. People whose kids or parents just disappeared one day, never to be seen again. Or someone was murdered, and we never really found out why.” We very carefully didn’t look at each other for that, because I knew he was talking about Jill and Brian. “And you could see how it just tore people’s lives apart. We’d look for a while, but eventually the brass would sit you down and say that it wasn’t going anywhere, and that you had to move on to something else. Now, though, I don’t have anyone saying that I can’t keep looking, and I always think to myself, what if I stopped and I could’ve actually found something if I just kept on it? Give someone answers, give some closure, or maybe even bring someone home who might not get there if I wasn’t there to help. And once I think that, I feel responsible, like I have to keep going.” Matt gave a small shrug, then an uncomfortable smile. We usually didn’t get this deep. “I’m starting to feel like I’m in achick flick, all this feelings shit, Fort. We’re going to have to start talking about baseball.”
We both laughed for a minute, and then I glanced over at him again. I remembered that when I was little, Matt always seemed to be laughing, and that he had a revolving series of girlfriends, but now there were a lot of frown lines around his perpetually tight-lipped mouth, and I knew that his relationships usually couldn’t outlast green bananas. I felt like I wanted to ask him more about it, but he was clearly uncomfortable, so I let it go while he started a long monologue about the Red Sox that lasted through the rest of the meal.
When we were heading out, the waitress waved us off, pocketing the check, and I knew that she must know about the owners, and who Matt was. My stomach was full, but for a second I thought about the owner, still looking for a daughter who he must know was dead, and I actually felt guilty for the free meal.
My guilt lasted through Matt dropping me back off and the rest of my shift. I managed to miss my bus again,
Similar Books
