Robert B. Parker’s Buried Secrets

Thirty

That night, Jesse stood in his condo and looked at his poster of Ozzie Smith. Ozzie was his hero growing up. The man seemed to have superhuman abilities on the ballfield. Jesse had moved house a couple of times since coming to Paradise, but the poster of Ozzie — vintage now, worth a couple hundred bucks on eBay at least — always came with him, and always had pride of place in the living room.

He used to toast the photo with a Scotch and soda when he was still drinking. Now he just looked at it.

There were days when he thought he’d be just as good as Ozzie, if he got on the field, if he made it to the majors. Now there were days when he wondered if he’d ever be as good at anything as Ozzie Smith was at baseball.

Jesse’s only witness was in the cells, still reeking of the gasoline he’d used to torch most of the evidence in Jesse’s big case. His newest hire had an even worse temper than he did, and it might have cost Jesse one of his only close friends. And his shrink seemed to think he was the human equivalent of a six-car pileup.

Moments like this, he really wanted a drink.

Jesse thought about something else Dix had said that actually landed: “a son you barely talk to.”

He hadn’t known his son, Cole, for most of his life. He’d never been told by Cole’s mother that Cole even existed. Cole had shown up in Paradise as an adult with a lot of anger. He got that much from Jesse, at least.

But the two of them had made their way to a relationship, Jesse thought. Though Dix was right — they didn’t talk much. Cole had left for California a few years back, then London, following a woman, which hadn’t worked out. Got that from his father, too. Now he was back in Los Angeles again, using his law degree as an assistant United States attorney.

He’d followed Jesse into law enforcement, but they never seemed to have much to say anymore.

Jesse picked up his phone and tapped the button for his son.

The phone barely had time to ring. “What’s wrong, Jesse? Are you okay?”

Jesse chuckled. “I’m fine. Just wanted to say hello.”

“Jesus. Nobody calls anyone to say hello anymore. I thought you’d been shot or something. Send me a text next time.”

Jesse wanted to say that texting was for teenage girls, but he was struck by something else. “Am I back to Jesse now?” he said. “What happened to ‘Dad’?”

There was a heavy sigh over the line. “Sorry. It just sort of slipped out.”

“No, I didn’t mean anything by it. You can call me whatever you want. I just...”

Cole didn’t say anything, and the silence lingered.

“...I just like being your dad,” Jesse finished.

Another sigh. “Look, I’m about to go on a date. Was there something you needed?”

“No,” Jesse said. “I just realized we hadn’t spoken for a while. How’s the job?”

“Fine.”

Jesse waited. That was it. “Fine.” Nothing else.

“You still thinking about getting a job with the SEC? Do more finance work.”

“Not really.”

And, again, nothing else. It was like Cole thought he’d be billed by the word.

“So maybe you heard about this thing with Daisy,” Jesse said.

“She gave me a call.”

Ah, there it was. Jesse sometimes forgot that Cole had worked for Daisy. She’d given him a place to stay and a job when he’d first shown up in Paradise, broke and practically homeless.

“Oh. She’s not speaking to me right now.”

“Yeah, well, sounds like she’s got good reason.”

“Come on. You know that it’s never that simple.”

“You were the one who taught me that it was.”

Jesse hesitated. “Are you angry with me, Cole?”

A longer sigh this time. “No, Jesse. I’m just busy. I’ve got a lot going on right now, okay? I don’t have a lot of time to chat.”

“I know that. I just want to know what’s going on with you. I want us to do better,” Jesse said.

Cole laughed. “Jesus Christ. Are you drinking again?”

“I’m serious.”

“Jesse. I really don’t have time right now. Whatever this is. But between you and me, I’m not the guy who needs to do better.”

That hurt. Jesse felt it under his ribs.

“You’re right,” Jesse said. “I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant.”

“Me, too. Don’t worry about it,” Cole said, his voice suddenly much kinder. “I really do have to get going. We’ll catch up this weekend, okay? I’ll give you a call.”

“Yeah,” Jesse said, feeling like an idiot. “Sounds good.”

“All right. Later.”

He hung up.

“Later,” Jesse said into the dead phone, alone in the room, as the house grew dark around him.