of this.” He waved his arms to encompass the whole of the world as if his father could possibly see the gesture or understand how vast the world is when you discover your biological parents never wanted you.
“Just. Gene, please, just remember we love you. We’ve always loved you. We couldn’t love you any more if you were our flesh and blood. You’re our son in every way that matters.”
“I know, Dad. And I love you and Mom. But right now I need to think about everything.”
He knew his father wanted to say more. He also knew his father was at a loss for what to say. They hung up.
Gene thought about his savings account. Every year his parentsadoptive parents, he corrected himself-gave him money for his birthday and holidays, and he put it in the bank and never spent it. Would that money be enough to hire a detective who could find his real parents?
The knock at the door took him off guard. Gene moved in that direction without thinking. It seemed that thinking was almost impossible. All he could do was react to whatever came his way.
By the time he’d unlocked the door, the courier had left. All he found was a package.
He reached down, fully expecting it to be addressed to one of his parents. Instead he saw that the bundle was addressed to Mr. Eugene Rothstein, with a warning that the information inside was considered “personal and confidential.”
There was no return address.
He opened the package and pulled out the single sheet of paper.
It read:
Dear Gene,
I know you have questions. I know your life is conflicted right now. You want answers and I can help you find those answers, but before I do, you have to come to me.
Below that simple statement was a phone number and the handwritten message:
Call me as soon as possible.
Joe.
Gene looked at the paper for several minutes, his heart beating a little too fast and his mind refusing to think things through carefully.
When he finally dialed the number, the phone was picked up on the second ring.
“Hello?” The voice was deep and clipped, almost impatient sounding.
“Hi, is this Joe?”
“It is. To whom am I speaking?” Was it his imagination? It almost sounded like the man was smiling through the question.
“My name is Gene Rothstein.”
“Ah, Gene. I was hoping you’d call.” There was a pause and he thought hard about hanging up because whoever the man was, he sounded too cocky, too cheerful. “Listen, Gene, how’s that family friend today? How’s your uncle Rob?”
“I-how do you know about Robbie?”
He looked at the phone number he’d called. It wasn’t local or even one he recognized.
“Gene, I know a lot about you. More than you do, I’d wager. I know that you were adopted, and I know what happened to your uncle Rob last night and, oh, I know so much.”
Gene’s mouth tasted like a dirty penny. “How?”
“I’ll explain that when you get to Boston.”
“Boston?”
“We’re going to have a coming-out party, Gene. You do not want to miss this one.”
“A coming-out party?”
“You’ve really got to stop asking all these questions, Gene.” The voice chastised him, but lightly. “Come up to Boston. Get here just as fast as you can, Gene, and we’ll answer everything we can for you.”
“I-”
“Don’t think up any excuses. Just get here. Take a bus, take a plane, steal a car-I don’t care and you shouldn’t either. Get here. We have a lot to talk about.” There was a small pause. “Got a pen, Gene? I want to give you an address for when you get up here. Get up here quickly because there are other people waiting on you, okay?”
Gene listened and nodded. A moment later he wrote down the address.
“I’ll give you my cell number if there are problems, but the address is for the Stevenson Hotel, off Interstate 95. You get there, you call that number, and we get together. And then I answer some questions for you. Got it?”
“Got it.” He could barely feel his lips move as he talked.
“See you then.”
The phone went dead in his hand.
He didn’t have to think for very long. There were answers in Boston, and he needed those answers as surely as he needed the air in his lungs. Those answers were the only thing that was going to stop him from drowning inside himself.
His parents would have to understand, have to forgive, and maybe, maybe after they did, he could return the favor. But not until he found out what was waiting for him in Boston.
Chapter Twenty
Tina Carlotti
Tina woke up to the sound of someone knocking on the door. There was no moment of confusion for her. She simply opened her eyes and knew exactly where she was. The same hotel that had been her home for the last three days.
She couldn’t go home. There was still the matter of a mobster or two that she might have hurt and the two million dollars in her possession. That was enough money to guarantee that someone, somewhere, wanted her head on a silver platter. There was also the fact that her mother was dead. With her mother gone, there was nothing for her in Camden or, really, anywhere else.
She’d called Tony two days ago. He answered the phone on the second ring. “Hello.”
“Tony? It’s me. It’s Tina.” She was terrified, of course, but hearing his voice had also jump-started her pulse. Even though part of her was afraid of him, she still longed to be near him.
His voice when he spoke was colder than December. “Where are you, Tina?”
She’d looked out the window at the cracked, ruined parking lot of the dumpy motel. “Are you okay, Tony? You sound upset.”
“We had some serious shit go down here, Tina. But you know that. Your little bitch girlfriend? The one that knocked me around? She killed five people. She also took a lot of money.”
Girlfriend? She shook her head. She didn’t have a girlfriend. Even if she did, no one Tina knew was dumb enough to go stealing from the mob.
Her chest hurt and she opened her mouth, trying to find the right words to make this all go away.
“Tina, baby, I might be able to get you off the hook, but I need my damned money back and I need the name of your friend.” He was lying to her. She knew him well enough to know that. The guy she was seriously thinking about being with for the long haul, who she’d planned on letting get past second base, was lying to her, acting like she was some stupid little gumar.
“Tony, I don’t know anything about no girlfriend or your money. Tony, something happened to my mom.” Her mouth tasted like pennies and she realized she’d bitten down on her tongue while he talked. The pain was barely even noticeable.
Before Tony could respond, she could hear the sound of the phone being passed to someone else.
“This is Tina Carlotti?” The voice was deeper, older than Tony’s and almost familiar.
“Yeah.”
