Forty-Two

Jael pulled away from the curb.

“Put on your seat belt,” said Jael.

“Yeah, Tucker, put on your seat belt,” said Bobby.

“Fuck you,” I said.

Bobby turned to Jael. “Somebody is a cranky pants.”

Bobby had the seat pushed all the way back, leaving no room for my legs. I slid over behind Jael, grabbed the seat belt, and clicked it into place. “Hey, Bobby, how come you get to ride shotgun?”

“Because I brought a shotgun.” Bobby reached down between his legs and pulled up a black weapon. He asked Jael, “Should we give Tucker a gun?”

Jael said, “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because the last time he held a gun he nearly shot someone.”

“Really?”

“He does not practice proper trigger safety.”

Jael was talking about my tendency to let my finger slip over the trigger when I held a handgun. Apparently, that’s bad.

“We can probably teach him trigger safety.”

“I have tried. He has a mental block.”

I said, “I wish you two wouldn’t talk about me behind my back.”

“I can see that,” said Bobby to Jael, ignoring me. “He’s kind of a theoretical academic.”

Bobby and Jael’s yammering kept driving spikes of irritation into my brain. The spikes brought up images of my mother threatening me with a knife, and the whole concoction felt like nitroglycerine.

“Screw you, Bobby. You go out and talk to Patterson if I’m so theoretical.”

“He only wanted to talk to you. I’d get nothing.”

“Then maybe I’m not so theoretical after all. Maybe I’m useful. Was that why you broke up my date with Lucy?”

“What are you talking about?”

Jael had navigated all the side streets, zoomed down Route 9, and was merging onto the Mass Pike heading west. I was pressed against the side of the SUV as she tore down the entrance ramp.

“If JT’s murder is Lieutenant Lee’s case, why were you in front of my house? Why call me?”

Bobby said nothing. The car remained silent. I slumped in the back seat and let my mind wander. It meandered over to the question that hung in the air, picked it up, and started poking at it. Why was Bobby at the murder scene, and why had he called me out of a Red Sox game to look at a dead guy? I turned the question over, probing it, twisting it, trying to make it fit into the rest of the puzzle.

Now that I thought about the problem, it made no sense that Bobby would have called me. The Boston Police must have been called at the gunshot. Lieutenant Lee was investigating the murder. The FBI doesn’t investigate random Boston murders. The FBI investigates bigger things.

What had Bobby said to JT’s manager, Paul Waters? He had said that there were “serious concerns regarding the security of the Paladin project.” I had assumed that he started investigating those serious concerns because JT had been murdered, but how would he have known about the murder so quickly? He couldn’t have. He must have been investigating the serious concerns earlier. He already had serious concerns about JT. He said that he thought JT was a spy. What had Bobby said when we learned that Patterson was sharing a password with JT? He had said, “Figures.” The final Tetris piece fell into place and I knew why Bobby had called me.

“You’re an asshole!” I shouted toward the front of the car.

Bobby turned. “Who? Me?”

“It sure isn’t Jael.”

“Why am I an asshole?”

“I figured out why you wanted to get me to the house to look at JT.”

Bobby twisted in his bucket seat. “What are you talking about?”

“You thought that JT and I were working together!”

“I did not.”

“You absolutely did, you asshole.”

“If you call me an asshole one more time, I swear I’m going to give you more stitches.”

Jael said, “You two must discuss this later. I am driving.”

I said, “Tell me it isn’t true. Tell me that you didn’t send me that picture of JT to see how I’d react.”

“Hey, it worked. That picture got you down there pretty quick.”

“I knew it! You are an asshole. The only reason that picture got me down there was that JT looked just like my father.”

“I know that now.”

“So what did you think then, huh? Did you think that JT and I were stealing Paladin secrets?”

Bobby glanced at Jael, back at me. “You shut up about that. That’s classified.”

“Bullshit!”

“I’m serious. You shut up.”

“You shut up, you fucking asshole.”

Bobby reached for me, but I stayed back in my seat.

Jael said, “I will stop this car.”

Bobby said, “Well, he started it.”

I muttered, “Asshole.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

Jael said, “I am going to turn this car around. Do you want me to do that?”

Bobby and I were silent.

Jael continued, “We cannot go into a dangerous situation with you two fighting.”

I said, “Well, it pisses me off that he thought I was a spy.”

Jael said, “Agent Miller was doing his job. He cannot let friendship get in the way of that.”

Bobby said, “Thank you, Jael.”

I said, “Sure, take his side.”

Jael said, “There are no sides. We are all on the same side.”

Bobby asked, “Tucker, what’s wrong with you?”

I crossed my arms. “Nothing.” Images of my mother and her knife flashed before me. I pushed them out of the way. “There’s nothing wrong.”

“Because, I mean, fuck Patterson, you know? We don’t have to do this. Let him wander around his fucking field and call you back. We shouldn’t have agreed to meet there.”

“You mean I shouldn’t have agreed to meet there. Sorry. I screwed that up too.” There was a lump in my throat. I’m losing my mind. I couldn’t take a deep breath. I folded my crossed arms more deeply, the corners of my mouth turned down.

Bobby said, “You didn’t screw anything up. Look, Tucker, I’m sorry. You’re right, I was investigating JT. When he got killed in front of your house, I was afraid you were involved.”

“Thanks for the trust.”

“It’s got nothing to do with trust. It’s just my job. I get lied to all the time. I check everything. It’s what I have to do. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you more that night in front of your house. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you to just take off and drive Lucy home.”

“Fine.”

“I mean it, dude. You’re a good guy. You don’t deserve any of this.”

The lump was back in my throat, my lower lip jutted out of its own accord.

Bobby asked, “You okay?”

I took a deep breath and blew it out. “Yeah, I’m okay.” I was not okay.

“You want to head home? We don’t have to do this.”

“No,” I said. “I want to hear what Patterson has to say. I want to know what’s going on.”

Jael drove on. I sat in the back, closed my eyes, and replayed my dinner with my mother. There was no other conclusion: I had fucked that up. If Lee wanted to empty her house, I should just let that be between them. I owed her an apology. I decided to apologize the next time I saw her.

The apology never happened.