Much to his disappointment, however, she was not in the waiting area when he got there. He assumed that he’d find her with Owen, yet when he entered his son’s room, he saw that was not the case. Wayne’s spirits were nonetheless lifted by the fact that Owen was awake, which was not a common occurrence. In fact, Owen seemed to be on some type of sleep cycle that made 4:00 p.m. to 8:00 p.m. the middle of the night.
“So how are you today? Scale of one to ten.”
Wayne had read that this question was a good way to get information about Owen’s health. Asking “How are you?” was invariably met with “fine,” whether Owen was or not. At least a numerical evaluation gave Wayne a way to measure Owen’s progress.
“What was I yesterday?”
“Two, but almost three.”
“Holding steady, then.”
“I’ll take that.”
“Good, because that’s what I’m giving you.”
“You know, now that your mom isn’t here, and you’re lucid during one of my visits, I thought maybe we could talk about something.”
Wayne stopped, gauging Owen for some sign that he was receptive to the idea. As usual, his son provided little visual evidence of his thoughts.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Wayne said with a smile. “One of the things about being a teenager, if I remember, and I think I do, is that you pretty much have the perspective about life that you’re always going to have. Of course, it’ll change a little bit; the importance of certain things will grow or decrease. You won’t be as passionate about playing video games, for example. But who you are, how you feel about people . . . you already have a clear sense of that. Even though, as far as I know at least, you’ve never been in love, I suspect you have some sense about what that’s going to feel like.”
Another pause. The same blank stare from his son.
“But the one thing you don’t know, which you can’t know, is what it’s like to have a child. It utterly transforms you, in a way that nothing else ever could. And that’s not hyperbole, O. It’s the truth. We humans are hardwired in certain ways. As a biology teacher, I can speak with some authority about this. There is a biological imperative for survival. So much of what we do is to protect ourselves from pain or death. You with me so far?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
“Good. So I think that’s the first order for every living species on this planet. There’s something inside that’s constantly telling you, Don’t die. Avoid pain. But then you have a child, and all of a sudden, it’s like a switch is flipped. Now that voice says something different. It says, Don’t let that child die. Don’t let that child suffer any pain.”
“Okay.”
“And the things that you’ll do to make sure that doesn’t happen, they may be things you never thought yourself capable of doing. People who run into burning buildings. Or those stories of fathers who know they can’t swim but still dive into the pool to rescue a child, which almost always leads to both of them drowning.”
“I’m not sure why you’re telling me this, Dad. Are you going to die for me?”
Owen said this with a chuckle, but Wayne could tell his son understood that it was not a laughing matter. In fact, he was reasonably sure his son understood exactly what he was saying to him.
Taxi TV is the service that plays in the back of New York City taxicabs. It’s annoying as can be, with its Jimmy Kimmel segments and easy Jeopardy! questions. Haley always muted it as soon as she got in a cab.
She followed that pattern for today’s ride as well. First, she told the driver where she was going; then she pressed the button to turn off the sound. As she did, however, a photograph of Reid popped up on the screen. In it, Reid looked tanned and slightly drunk. In other words, like Reid.
Haley turned the sound back on. The coverage was from NY1, the city’s local news station. A woman’s voice was providing the narrative.
“FBI agents said that Mr. Warwick, shown here, was selling stolen Jackson Pollock paintings. Jackson Pollock holds the record for highest sale price of an American artist’s work. In 2015, his painting titled Number 17A was sold for a whopping $200 million in a private sale. The US Attorney said that Mr. Warwick faces up to fifty-seven years in prison.”
The story lasted all of fifteen seconds before the screen morphed into an advertisement for a local steak house. By then, Haley was trying to find more information about Reid’s arrest on her phone.
She searched “Reid Warwick.” Too many hits. Then she filtered it to the last twenty-four hours.
The top hit was the website of the United States Attorney for the Southern District of New York. A press release told the story in a bit more detail:
Press Releases
Department of Justice
US Attorney’s Office
Southern District of New York
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
Art Dealer Charged with Trafficking in Stolen Art, Money Laundering
Abby Freedman, the United States Attorney for the Southern District of New York, announced the arrest today of REID WARWICK on charges of grand larceny, wire fraud, mail fraud and money laundering. Specifically, WARWICK has been charged with the attempted sale of several Jackson Pollock works stolen more than 40 years ago from the home of Lee Krasner, Pollock’s widow.
Freedman said, “Reid Warwick, an art dealer, claimed that he was representing a client who had lawfully acquired numerous Jackson Pollock drawings, each worth approximately $1 million. In fact, Mr. Warwick was well aware that these works had been stolen.”
Freedman praised the outstanding investigative work of Assistant US Attorney Parker Henderson and FBI special agent Allison Lashley.
The charges contained in the Complaint are merely accusations, and the defendant is presumed innocent unless and until proven guilty.
Haley found it gratifying that she had been
