Thread of Truth, стр. 2
“Lots of people in good places sometimes find reasons to run away,” I said. “I don't mean to sound jaded, but it's the truth.”
Tom nodded. “I appreciate that. I really do. But we know our son.”
It seemed clear I wouldn't be able to persuade him otherwise, even if I wasn't as certain.
“I assume you've spoken with the police,” I said.
Tom nodded again. “Yes. I don't want to say they don't care—”
“They don't,” Alice snapped. “They made it very clear that they don't believe us, and because he's an adult, it's not terribly high on their priority list.”
“He's eighteen?” I asked.
They both nodded.
“And you were able to file a report?”
“We were and we did,” Tom said. “We didn't have much to go on. We did get a call back, but it really felt like it was a call to tell us we were out of luck.”
“How so?”
Tom thought for a moment. Alice put her hand on his forearm. Their interactions with each other seemed genuine, not forced. They were troubled by whatever was going on with their son.
“They pointed out the obvious,” Tom said. “That he was a legal adult, so that gave him some leeway to do as he pleases. But multiple times, they came back to his record, as if that somehow proved something.” He took a deep breath. “They think he's gone of his own choosing and made it pretty clear that's how they'd be treating our report.” He flashed a quick smile in my direction. “I ended the conversation with something profane and hung up.”
I nodded. “Understandable. Tough when it feels like people aren't listening.”
“Very much so.”
“You said they kept coming back to his record,” I said. “That sounds like there was more than an incident or two.”
Tom pursed his lips again, considering his answer. “I just want to reiterate. Desmond isn't perfect.”
“None of us are,” I said.
“There's a lot of good in him,” he said.
Alice's hand tightened on his forearm.
“But there was also some bad,” he said.
I looked at Alice first, then Tom. The tension in the room was palpable.
“Tell me about the bad.”
TWO
Tom finally picked up his coffee, taking a long drink before setting the mug back down. “He started with alcohol and marijuana. He was smoking and drinking when he went to the park with friends. He did a good job of hiding it from us and truth be told, we had no reason to be on the lookout for it. He was a good student and had never been in any kind of trouble.”
“He was student body president of his middle school,” Alice said proudly.
“He was playing sports and his grades were good,” Tom said, nodding. “He was just a good kid and hadn't given us any reason to worry. Then he came home late one afternoon. I don't remember the details, but I remember he came home way late and hadn't called us. It was unlike him. And as soon as he walked into the kitchen, I smelled it on him. The booze and the marijuana.”
“Did you call him on it?” I asked.
“I did,” he said. “I asked him if he'd been drinking or smoking and he said he had. Didn't even try to lie.” He let out a slow breath. “That was a long night.”
Alice shifted and laid her hands flat on her thighs. “It was. We sat down right here with him. He said he'd gotten both from a friend, that he was just curious. He admitted he'd had alcohol and smoked a couple of times before that day. We asked him about using other drugs and he said he'd never used anything else.” She glanced at her husband. “He told us he wouldn't do it again and we believed him.”
“But he did,” I said.
She looked at her husband.
“Yeah,” Tom admitted. “I'm still not sure how often, but I think he was a pretty frequent user. He just got better at hiding it from us. He washed his own clothes. He made sure we were at work if he was coming home after he used.” He shrugged. “Pretty standard behavior for a kid who was using drugs. We just weren't prepared and probably too naive.”
I appreciated his honesty. Too many parents took the easy way out when they discovered things about their own kids, deflecting and making excuses. He was acknowledging that they weren't ready for what came their way and had no idea how to deal with it.
“I think it was two months after we first caught him that he was arrested,” Tom said.
Alice nodded.
“He tried to sell to an undercover officer,” Tom explained. “And he had quite a bit of the drug on him, so he was charged with both possession and intent to sell.”
“When was this?”
“Two years ago,” he said. “So he was arrested. Luckily, he was still a juvenile. We got the call and went and got him. Had to go to court and he was lucky. He got a judge who was sympathetic, given that he'd never had an issue before that. He had to pay a fine, attend a drug awareness class, and do a hundred hours of community service. All things considered, we were pretty relieved.”
“Was he?” I asked.
“Thought he was,” Tom said. He stared at the cup of coffee in his hand. “Said he was. Complained a little about all of the service hours, but we reminded him he was lucky and he said he knew that.” He paused. “If he paid the fine, completed the class, and did all of the hours, everything would be removed from his record after a year's probation.”
Neither of them said anything.
“Did he not finish the hours?” I asked.
“No, he did,” Tom said. “He was working at both a food pantry and a senior center. He completed the