Perfect Grave

Chapter Fifty-Seven

A cross Seattle in Fremont, Jason Wade sat with his old man in a booth at Ivan’s, searching for the right words.

“Dad, I’m sorry. I let you down. You’ve been wanting to talk and it’s just been crazy with the nun story.”

“It’s all right.”

“I’ve only got a couple of hours to spare today. My editor’s been on me hard to break stories. I’ve been on this one for a solid week and I just got back from Canada chasing this stuff.”

Jason spun around that morning’s Mirror.

“I read them,” Henry Wade said. “They’re good stories. I know this is a busy time and I wish I could do more to help you. No need to apologize.”

“But you sounded like it was bad, like you were at risk again.”

“I’m not going to lie to you, it’s bad.”

“And this is all about your old demon, your partner’s death. The old call.”

His father’s Adam’s apple rose and fell as he looked to the street.

“That’s right.”

“Did you drink, Dad?”

His father’s face creased and Jason saw more lines pressing into him from the weight of his struggle.

“Almost.”

“You said you needed me to help you put an end to everything. What is it?”

Henry Wade rubbed his chin, thinking about that bottle in his pickup as he gazed to the street and back in time. “The call,” Henry said, “it’s about the old call Vern and I got on the armed robbery.”

“I see.”

“I told you how it went bad. How there was a hostage.”

“The hostage was shot and the suspect pleaded guilty and was sent away.”

“More coffee?” the waitress interrupted.

Henry waved her off.

“The whole world changed that day, Jay.”

“I know, Dad, and it took a toll.”

“It took a toll on Vern and it took a toll on me. Look what it cost me. Your mother, my job as a cop. I’m still paying for it.”

Jason patted his father’s hand.

“The other day, this kid, Quinn, he comes from out of nowhere and he starts exhuming the dead.”

“Who’s Quinn?”

“Hotshot insurance investigator, or loss-recovery agent. Something. He calls me up, he’s pushing my buttons about the old case, acting like I know something. Then he’s telling me that the monster’s out of his cage and he’s scheming. I know he’s planning something.”

“Who’s out? Hold on, Dad, I don’t understand. What’s happening?”

“I can’t live like this, Jay. It’s eating me alive. I’ve got to put things to rest.”

“Dad?”

“I’ve been carrying this rot inside me long enough. I’m going to see this guy and I need you to come with me. I have to see him now.”

“What guy? And why do you need me? Dad, you’re not making sense.”

Henry Wade reached inside the chest pocket of his sportcoat and Jason saw the grip of his holstered gun before he unfolded a slip of paper.

“I need you to go with me to this address because I don’t know what I’m going to do, how I’m going to react, because he’s not dead. I’m going to get in his face with one question-just one question.”

“Dad, what’s this all about? Tell me what’s going on.”

“Jay, the hostage was a child.”

“Jesus.”

“A little boy.”

“God.”

“He died in my arms.”