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I hesitate to accept. He had two beers tonight. Not enough to be drunk…but I’ve been there once before.
“I’ll be fine, thanks.”
He leans out the window, eyebrows raised. “You’re not taking a cab. You’ll pay a fortune.”
I know that, and I don’t need to lose money like that. I think for another minute, under his insistent look.
“So?”
“Okay…I accept.”
He pulls his head in. I pick up my bag, walk around the vehicle and get in. “This is nice of you,” I say as he drives away.
“I’m always here to help save money,” he replies simply.
I lean back against the headrest, feeling a headache take over. Dan keeps his attention on the road, his driving rather calm. I don’t know why I had a bad feeling, but he’s driving very well. I don’t know how to start a conversation, and talking about Debbie is not the thing to do, so I keep quiet and look outside.
My phone vibrates in my bag, and I frown at who is calling me.
Detective Harrisson.
“Aren’t you going to pick up?” asks Dan.
I snap out of my thoughts, nod, and put the phone to my ear.
“Detective?”
“Miss Foster? I’m sorry to bother you late. When we last spoke, I told you that Joe Nelson had no immediate family, so there was probably no connection between him and the break-in at your apartment, but I also told you that I was going to ask for confirmation from some police friends who just happen to be in Portland, your home town.”
“And have you heard anything else?” I ask, my heart racing.
I hear him take a deep breath through the receiver. “I thought Joe Nelson had no family. But my contacts there gave me other information. According to the subsequent investigation by Portland officers, Joe Nelson had a child that he never officially recognized. That’s why he didn’t show up in the database for him. I think he never recognized his child to keep his life from being disrupted by all the arrests of his father.”
“He had…a child?” I whisper, wondering if I’m dreaming. “You think his child was trying to find me? Is it possible that he was the one who came after me?”
The cop waits a second before answering me. “Nothing is confirmed yet, Miss. But his son—”
“His son?” I cut him off without saying a word.
Dan stares at me out of the corner of his eye, surely disconcerted by my conversation.
The detective says, “Yes, his son, Sanchez Yerez.”
Oh, my God.
The cop pauses for a moment and then continues. “Twenty years old. He would have left Portland a few months ago. They don’t know where he is right now.”
My heart misses a beat. An unpleasant chill runs up my spine. The detective keeps talking into the phone but I can’t hear anything. It’s like I’m numb.
Sanchez.
Sanchez Yerez.
I could tell myself it’s a coincidence, but I feel like it’s not. The last few weeks and months are racing through my head. The first time I ran into Sanchez in the abandoned factory. He was new this year…like me. His dark look that reminded me strangely of someone else. And everything that happened afterwards…our friendship. Me running into him going out with some girls in front of my residence. He was always trying to get closer to me.
No…it’s not possible…and yet, I think it is.
How could I be so stupid?
