Chapter 6 - The Moment He Called Me Dad
I don’t remember reaching my truck.
I remember Frank grabbing my arm.
“Police are going.”
“That’s my son.”
“I know.”
“I have to go.”
Detective Harris stopped me.
“If you race toward him, you create another emergency.”
Every part of me wanted to ignore him.
Then Marcus’s call came back.
I answered before the first ring finished.
“Marcus!”
“I’m okay.”
My knees almost gave out.
“Where are you?”
“I pulled into a gas station. There are people here.”
“Is the sedan there?”
“No.”
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
His breathing was ragged.
“It tried to pull beside me.”
“Did you see the driver?”
“No.”
Harris took my phone long enough to confirm the location.
Officers reached Marcus within minutes.
I arrived shortly after.
He stood beside his Honda with two patrol cars nearby.
The second he saw me, whatever control he had left disappeared.
He crossed the parking lot.
I barely had time to open my arms.
He hit my chest and held on.
“Dad.”
I closed my eyes.
There was no hesitation in the word.
No biology.
No argument.
Just fear reaching for safety.
“I’ve got you.”
His whole body shook.
“I thought they were going to run me off the road.”
“You’re okay.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Not now.”
“I’m sorry for everything.”
“Marcus.”
I pulled back enough to see his face.
“We are not having our kitchen argument in a gas station.”
He laughed through tears.
That sound nearly broke me.
Officers checked the station cameras.
The sedan’s plate was partially visible.
It belonged to a rental company.
Rented under a false identification.
Detective Harris showed Marcus a photograph of Darren.
“Was he driving?”
“I couldn’t see.”
Victor?
Marcus shook his head.
“I don’t know him.”
Harris warned us again.
No school alone.
No work shifts.
No unnecessary travel.
Marcus hated it.
“I’m being punished.”
“You’re being protected,” I said.
“Feels the same.”
“It isn’t.”
At home, Angela hugged him until he complained he couldn’t breathe.
Then she slapped her own hand against the counter.
“I should have told you everything about Darren.”
Marcus looked at her.
“Yes.”
She flinched.
He softened.
“But I also should’ve told you when he contacted me.”
Angela nodded.
“Yes.”
No excuses.
No pretending.
Maybe that was the first moment our family started repairing itself.
That evening, Marcus came into the garage while I was replacing a headlight on Angela’s car.
“Need help?”
“With what?”
He pointed.
“That.”
“You hate working on cars.”
“I hate being told I need to learn.”
“Very different.”
He smiled slightly.
I handed him a flashlight.
For ten minutes, we worked quietly.
Then he said, “Did it bother you?”
“What?”
“When I called you Dad today.”
I stopped.
“A little.”
His face fell.
“Not in a bad way.”
I leaned against the car.
“It mattered.”
He stared at the floor.
“I stopped calling you Dad when Darren came back.”
“I noticed.”
“He said I was disrespecting him.”
I nodded.
“So I thought…”
“You thought you had to choose.”
“Yes.”
I wiped my hands.
“Marcus, listen to me.”
He looked up.
“You can have more than one person in your life.”
His eyes filled.
“Loving me never required hating Darren.”
He swallowed.
“And if one day he somehow becomes a better man, loving him won’t mean betraying me.”
Marcus nodded slowly.
“But right now?”
“Right now he’s making dangerous choices.”
“Yeah.”
“And we protect ourselves.”
Marcus looked at the old tool cabinet.
“I don’t think he loves me.”
I hated that sentence.
“I think Darren loves what you represent to him.”
“That’s worse.”
“I know.”
He looked back at me.
“What do I represent?”
“Another chance.”
Marcus frowned.
“At being a father?”
“Maybe.”
I paused.
“Or maybe at getting money. At fixing his mistakes. At proving he wasn’t the man everyone says he was.”
Marcus whispered, “But I’m a person.”
“Yes.”
“And you deserve to be loved like one.”
He wiped his face quickly.
Then my phone rang.
Detective Harris.
They had found the gray sedan.
Abandoned behind a shopping center.
Inside, police recovered a baseball cap and a disposable phone.
There were only three saved numbers.
Victor.
Darren.
Marcus.
My stomach dropped.
“Whose fingerprints?”
“Processing now.”
“What about location data?”
“Limited.”
Harris paused.
“But the disposable phone has messages.”
“What kind?”
“One was sent to Darren this morning.”
I gripped the workbench.
“What did it say?”
Harris read it.
Boy scared. Didn’t stop. What next?
Marcus heard.
His face went pale.
“Who sent it?”
“We’re working on that.”
Then Harris continued.
“There’s another development.”
“What?”
“Darren contacted an attorney.”
“Why?”
“He says he wants to surrender.”
Marcus and I stared at each other.
“Then why hasn’t he?”
“He has conditions.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Of course.”
“What conditions?”
Harris hesitated.
“He says he will only come in if Marcus meets him first.”
“No.”
The word left my mouth immediately.
Marcus stayed silent.
“He claims he has evidence proving someone else is behind the fraud.”
“No.”
“David—”
“No.”
I looked at Marcus.
Darren had manipulated him.
Used him.
Possibly had him followed.
He was not getting another private meeting.
Marcus surprised me.
“I’ll do it.”
“No.”
“Dad.”
“No.”
“With police there.”
I stared at him.
“He wants me there because he thinks he can still control me.”
“Exactly.”
Marcus’s expression hardened.
“So let him think that.”
For the first time, I realized my son wasn’t asking for Darren’s approval anymore.
May you like
He wanted the truth.
And this time, he wanted Darren to say it where everyone could hear.
