Page 97 of Death is Familiar

His reaction was enough. I was right.

I had to dig deep in my memory to recall what Todd shared with Jack at the Jackalope. “I’m still a stranger to them,” he’d said. “They don’t know me. They won’t.” His words took on a whole different meaning with what I now knew.

Ouch.

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” I offered. “You don’t owe it to me. I was a little taken aback, yes, but this is only my business if you want it to be.”

“I want to. But first…” Todd leaned over, couch creaking as he pulled open the bag that produced my knife…revealing the cash Lawrence left. “You should put this somewhere safe.”

21

It wasn’t meant to be.

That’s what Todd had said about his relationship with his ex-wife, Eliza. They’d gotten married young. They had couple goals and timelines because they thought they should. Todd was going to be a paramedic, but didn’t have the funds to pay for schooling—something which hit a little too close to home for my liking. So, he joined the army at eighteen, and became a combat medic, with the intent that he’d get paid, get his training, do his time, then he and Eliza could live the life they were meant to live.

Young Todd sounded like a romantic.

But while he served, he changed. For better or worse, not only did he have a knack for healing, but he was calm under pressure, and could handle the worst and still get up in the morning.

He was wired different.

He could handle more. Do more. When his service was over, he knew he had to be part of the change. To continue his service to the country, but to fix it from within. Which resulted in Todd joining the FBI, while he was still in the reserve. From there, he trained at Quantico, and thrived.

Post-graduation, he was assigned to the organized crime unit, where he met Jack, who was already making a name for himself. A year into working together, Todd was given his first undercover assignment.

Todd skipped some details and rushed through what happened next. He had been undercover for three years with severely restricted visits with his wife, when he received the news Eliza was pregnant with Remy—I didn’t ask for the details about how they arranged their time together for this to be possible, but I knew when people were motivated enough, they found a way.

It took Todd eight months to close out his first stint of undercover work so he could return home in time for Remy to be born.

He was a week late.

For the next five months, he worked on cases closer to home. But was soon reassigned to undercover work. Apparently, in Todd’s own words, he had become mission critical to the FBI’s operations with the mob. Don’t ask me which one. Cults I knew. Any other sort of organized crime… not so much.

While undercover, his visits with Eliza and baby Remy continued to be limited. And in one such visit, Eliza shared the news she expecting their second child. The picture she painted was a beautiful one. Once Todd completed his mission, he’d go home to his family, who’d welcome him with open arms.

But that’s not what the future had in store.

Todd’s work grew riskier. Visits with his family were virtually non-existent. He couldn’t extricate himself from his work, learning of his second daughter’s birth six months after the fact, and had no say in her name, which was, to his dismay, Rory—apparently named after a character in one of Eliza’s favorite shows, which Todd couldn’t stand.

By the time Todd’s seven years undercover came to an end, he’d been torn apart and sewn back together again, he’d lost his tongue, and was entering a pre-established family unit that functioned without him. He didn’t fit. And since he lost his tongue, he didn’t know how to communicate. His children weren’t at an age where reading was feasible as their primary form of communication, and Eliza just didn’t have the time.

They tried to make it work for a while. But Eliza and Todd had grown apart.

It wasn’t meant to be.

When Eliza and Todd met, they weren’t who they were meant to be yet. And who they were meant to be were at odds with them being together.

“It was for the best,” he said, even though Todd didn’t have custody of his children. Even though, Eliza had used his role and commitment to the FBI, and his access to painkillers—which he refused to take might I add—against him to get sole custody.

The claims alone were enough for Todd to join the FBI’s Employee Assistance Program for substance abuse, not only to prove to himself he was capable and accountable, but so he had a chance of building a relationship with his kids in the future. He wanted to be ready.

Despite this, Todd didn’t hold animosity towards Eliza. He understood. She wasn’t a villain, he hadn’t been around, and she did what she could in order to protect their children. To put them first.

But that didn’t make his stranger status with is children any less painful. He held hope that he’d have a relationship with his family again—something more meaningful than the handful of visits Remy and Rory once made, the last of which were over three years ago—a cordial, working, relationship with Eliza, and a chance to be a father to his daughters.

But that’s not how things were. At least not yet.

“Stop it.” Todd grumbled as he took us down Pennsylvania Ave.