Chapter 17
The following week dragged on endlessly,
a slow torture of paranoia,
and constant,
and exhausting hyper-vigilance.
I found myself checking the security cameras,
ten or fifteen times a single day,
zooming in on passing vehicles,
and staring at the mail carrier,
with deep,
and completely irrational suspicion.
Pierce called me on a rainy Thursday morning,
his voice low,
and deeply serious,
bringing news I desperately did not want to hear.
My men tracked him down,
Pierce informed me bluntly,
he did not leave the city after the hotel incident.
My grip tightened fiercely on the phone,
and I closed my eyes in pure frustration.
Where is he,
I asked coldly,
ready to drive there myself,
and physically remove him from the town limit.
He is living in a tent,
Pierce replied softly,
in the woods near the old lumber yard,
just outside the main city borders.
He is working day labor at the construction site,
getting paid under the table in cash,
and keeping completely to himself.
I listened to the detailed report,
feeling a strange mixture of anger,
and a disturbing,
and unwelcome sense of pity.
My son,
who once wore thousand-dollar suits,
and drove a stolen luxury sports car,
was now living in a muddy tent,
and doing back-breaking manual labor,
just to survive the cold nights.
Do you want me to call the local police,
Pierce asked gently,
they can clear out the homeless camp,
and force him to move along.
I hesitated for a long moment,
staring out my study window at the heavy rain,
picturing the miserable,
and freezing conditions in those dark woods.
No,
I finally answered quietly,
leave him alone for now,
just keep watching him from a distance,
and let me know if he comes anywhere near the suburbs.
I ended the call with a heavy sigh,
rubbing my throbbing temples,
and trying to push the pathetic image of him,
out of my tired mind.
It was his own fault,
I reminded myself harshly,
he had made his terrible choices,
and now he was facing the severe consequences,
of his greedy,
and criminal actions.
I walked out of the study,
finding Diane in the bright living room,
folding a large pile of warm blankets,
for her upcoming charity drive.
The winter is going to be brutal this year,
she said sadly,
looking out at the gray,
and stormy sky,
I worry about the people who have no shelter,
and no warm place to sleep at night.
Her words hit me like a physical blow,
a sharp knife twisting deeply in my gut,
and I had to turn my face away quickly,
so she would not see the sudden guilt,
flashing in my eyes.
You are a very kind woman,
I managed to say,
my voice sounding slightly choked,
and unnaturally tight.
We do what we can,
she smiled warmly,
completely unaware that her only child,
was currently freezing in a wet tent,
just a few miles away from our warm fire.
I helped her fold the remaining blankets,
my hands moving mechanically,
while my mind wrestled violently,
May you like
with the impossible,
and heartbreaking choice I had made.
