Something Missing_ A Novel - Matthew Dicks [84]
Had barely put up a fight.
For that reason, Martin hadn’t seen his father in years. Even after Martin’s stepfather had left his mother for a younger woman, two or three years prior to her death, Martin made no attempt to reconcile with his father. A healthy dose of guilt and remorse, combined with the awkwardness that two decades apart can create, had kept them apart.
Of course, Martin’s career had a lot to do with their continued separation as well.
In addition, Martin was still angry with his father. Though he was willing to accept some of the blame, he also knew that, for whatever reason, his father had let him down as well. Martin could not remember even a single time when his father had fought for his right to see his son. Though Martin had allowed a strange man to fill the shoes of his father, his father had allowed it to happen without so much as a peep.
“Do you have a daddy?” Blondie asked, impatient for an answer. Her first question had stymied Martin, and there was no telling how long he had stood there, allowing the question to hang in the air, before the girl had asked her follow-up. But this question forced Martin into action.
It was time to go.
“Look at the time,” Martin said, glancing at his wrist. “I have to run.” And just that quickly, Martin felt in control of his movements once again. Dodging a question was a strategy that Martin employed quite often. Finally his training had kicked in.
“Okay,” the girl said with disappointment filling her face.
“Well,” Martin replied apologetically, “I’ve got to find Sandy, right?”
“Can I help?” the girl asked, leaping up from the picnic table in excitement.
“Sure you can,” Martin replied, firmly in control of the situation now. And speaking without the accent, he noticed. “But you’ll have to ask your mum, okay? Run along and ask her if it’s all right, and I’ll wait here for you.”
Without answering, Blondie turned and sprinted for the door of Mr. and Mrs. Matching Volkswagen, faster than Martin would have expected. As soon as she turned the corner and passed from view, Martin turned and began jogging back in the direction of his car, using a slightly faster pace than normal. Before Blondie had even entered the neighboring house, Martin was well up the street and out of view.
Once back inside his car, Martin permitted himself a few minutes to regroup. First he allowed himself to relax, waiting for the quiver in his hands to subside and his breathing to return to normal. He couldn’t quite believe what had just happened. Yet the pride that he had been feeling from his experience in the Clayton household was beginning to suffuse this situation as well. Though he had blundered badly, he once again had managed to escape unscathed.
Next he took a moment to retrace his steps, looking for any evidence that he might have left in Laura Green’s home. Though his escape had been harried and nearly disastrous, he was sure that the desk had been left in order and that the window had been returned to its original state. For a moment he wondered if Cujo had managed to tear any of his shirt loose, but a quick visual inspection showed that, although torn and slightly frayed, all the fabric seemed to be present.
Next he examined the clock on the dashboard. 4:11. He would need to be in West Hartford before 5:00 if he wanted any chance of success. That might be tough. Traffic through the capital city was often bumper-to-bumper at this time of day, and if this were the case, he didn’t have any time to waste. Throwing his car into drive, he headed back down West Middle Turnpike and toward Interstate 84.
As he wound