Something Missing_ A Novel - Matthew Dicks [106]
“You’re the only family I’ve got, Dad. You let me down, for sure, but I think I probably let you down too. Our relationship got messed up pretty badly, but it wasn’t because either of us wanted it to. We were just stupid. A couple of cowards without a brain between us.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” his father agreed.
“But we were never mean to each other, Dad. Never intentionally cruel. I’ve always loved you, Dad. I just did a lousy job loving you. And I’m guessing, maybe hoping, that it’s the same for you. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, right?”
Martin’s father took another sip of coffee, either to stall in case his son had more to add or to consider what had been said. When it was clear that Martin was finished, he placed the cup down and nodded. “Good enough, son. Someone had to say it, and you’re probably right. I was probably too stupid and afraid to be the one. You can trust me. Go ahead with your story.”
Martin nodded, took a deep breath and began. “I came into possession of some information today while doing something that’s not exactly legal. I wasn’t hurting anybody, and it has nothing to do with drugs or guns or anything like that, but it’s something that could land me in jail if I’m not careful.”
“Tax evasion?”
“Huh?”
“Tax evasion,” his father repeated. “Let’s think about your illegal activities as tax evasion. Okay? I can get behind that. Unless that don’t sit right with you.”
Martin thought for a moment and then answered. “Yes, tax evasion. That’s good. Okay, so while I was evading my taxes, I discovered that a registered sex offender is stalking someone I know. Not exactly a friend, but someone I care about. Someone who I don’t want to see get hurt.”
“How do you know he’s a sex offender?” his father asked, placing the mug down and leaning forward.
“After I saw him leave my friend’s house, I followed him to his home. Got his address, and from there, it was easy. He’s got two counts of assault, one sexual, and did fifteen years for it. He’s been out about two years and is living in West Hartford.”
Martin’s father leaned in even more, placing his glasses, which had previously been hanging by a cord around his neck, on his nose. “You saw this man inside your friend’s house?”
“I saw him leaving the house,” Martin answered.
“How do you know that your friend wasn’t home? How do you know she hasn’t already been assaulted?”
Martin had wanted to avoid this question, but he decided to answer it truthfully. “She wasn’t home. I’m sure of it.”
“So you were watching your friend’s house, even though she wasn’t home, and you saw this man leave the house, and you followed him. Correct?”
“Exactly,” Martin replied, but he didn’t like the way the old man seemed to be putting the pieces together so quickly.
“But you can’t tell your friend about this man because if you do, the IRS will find out about your tax evasion and lock you up, right?”
“Yes,” Martin answered, feeling a little ashamed. He had lost control of the conversation. His father seemed to already know too much.
“How do you know that this man isn’t one of many who live in the house that you followed him to? How do you know that he isn’t renting from the owner, who is the actual sex offender?”
“The sex offender registry includes a photo. It’s the guy, Dad.”
“Oh.”
Now it was Martin’s turn to lean forward. “So what should I do?”
“Listen, son. If you know that a convicted criminal is stalking anyone, you need to let the police know right away. But I’m guessing that if you told the police, you might get prosecuted for tax evasion. Yes?”
“Yes,” Martin answered, trying to think of a means of ending this interrogation.
“How about an anonymous tip? A phone call or note?”
“That’s what I was thinking. But do cops pay attention to that kind of thing?”
“When I was on the job, we would get tips all the time. Some were real. Most were bogus. But we followed up on each and every one. I used to tell the young guys that it’s the tips you ignore that will bite you in the