"But that's good," Troy said. "I did what they asked me to do, and now they have to help my dad. They got what they want. What's wrong? Why do you look like that, Mom?"
"Well," she said with a pained expression, "it's the money, Troy. The plan was to take it."
"What do you mean?" Troy asked. "What money?"
"The five million dollars from the Jets," she said. " Your money. Your father was going to take it, Troy. He was going to give it to those men. He was taking their cash to pay back his investors, then giving them your clean money in return. I'm sorry."
"That can't be," Troy said, the look on his mom's face making him sick because he knew she believed it to be true.
"I blame myself," she said, shaking her head. "People don't change. I know better."
"You can't just take someone's money, Mom," he said, studying her face for the punch line.
"I thought the same thing," she said. "I was going to let him handle it-sign the contract and set up an account for you. I trusted him. I'm sorry I have to tell you this, Troy, but I just think you need to know."
Troy's mom took a deep breath. "He told them he would wire your money into an offshore account. That's how they do it, these criminals. It's as fast as pushing the right button on a computer. The FBI can't stop them. Everything happens too fast."
"He wouldn't do that," Troy said, his voice weak and pathetic. "Not to me."
"I'm sorry, Troy," she said, rubbing the back of his head. "He was, but he's going to pay for it now. That wasn't part of the deal."
"But I did this to help him," Troy said, glancing back at Tate, who nodded vigorously. "Mom, don't you get it?"
He stared at her, searching.
"I don't want him to go to jail," he said, the word dying on his tongue.
"You're a good boy, Troy," she said, touching his cheek. Then she turned and bolted out of the living room. Troy heard her bedroom door rattle closed, and he turned to Tate.
"Sorry," he said.
Tate shrugged. "It's okay. I understand."
"I wish I did," Troy said.
"She loves you, Troy," Tate said. "A lot. Everything that happened she feels bad about. I think she feels guilty."
"Why?" Troy said, his face screwing up with frustration.
"I think it's a girl thing," Tate said. "It's hard to explain."
Troy grabbed two handfuls of hair and twisted. "I'm going crazy, Tate. This whole thing is a nightmare."
"I'm sorry, Troy," she said in a whisper. "I wish I could help."
Troy let his hands fall to his sides and said, "No one can help."
"Maybe you should call him, Troy," Tate said. "I know this all looks really bad, but maybe there's a reason. I know my mom is pretty extreme with her religion and all that, but she always says God has a reason, and things always work out the way they're supposed to."
Troy looked at her big brown eyes.
"You think my life was supposed to turn into a complete disaster?" he asked quietly. "Famous for something that gets everyone around me acting crazy? My father finally showing up, but it would have been better if he never had? Why would all that happen, Tate?"
Tate shrugged and looked at her feet. Her voice came in a whisper. "I don't know. Maybe it will still be okay. Things happen."
The phone on the kitchen wall rang, and Troy ran to snap it up before his mother could answer from the bedroom.
"Hello?" Troy said.
"Troy? It's me, your dad."
CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
TROY COULDN'T SPEAK.
"Are you there?"
"Yes," Troy said in a whisper.
"Did you hear?"
"Yes," Troy said.
"I can explain, Troy," his dad said. "I want to. That's why I ran. I need to see you. I need to tell you. Not the police, not your mom-me. Please, Troy."
"Were you really going to take it?" Troy asked.
There was silence before his father said, "I need to talk to you about that. Can you meet me on your bridge?"
"The FBI are looking for you," Troy said. "There's a helicopter."
"I know," his father said. "But I need to see you first. I never wanted things to be this way. You have to believe me. Will you meet me?"
Troy looked at Tate. She shook her head slowly, no.
"Yes," Troy said. "I'm coming."
He hung up, and his mom appeared in the hallway, asking, "Was that the FBI?"
"No," Troy said, looking directly at her, the words slipping out of his mouth like snakes slithering out of a plastic bucket. "Wrong number."
"I thought you were talking," she said.
"They wanted to know what number they called," he said, the words still slipping past his lips, "and if a Robert lived here. I thought maybe they were looking for Gramps or something."
His mom blinked at him, then said, "Oh. Well, I'm going to lie back down. I've got a migraine coming on, and I want to try to beat it. I'm sorry I just walked out. This whole thing is so…"
"It's okay, Mom," Troy said. "I'm okay."
She smiled weakly and put a hand to her forehead. "Good."
When she disappeared, Troy held a finger to his lips and motioned with his head for Tate to follow him outside.
Back through the pines they went, the distant chop chop of a helicopter now in the air. When they hit the train tracks, Tate grabbed his arm.
"You think it's safe?" she asked.
Troy took her hand and gently freed it from his arm.
"It's my dad, Tate," he said.
"And others, too, maybe," she said, lowering her voice to a whisper. "I thought you said they were dangerous."
Troy turned on her and said, "Don't worry, Tate. I have to do this alone anyway."
"I'm not saying I won't go with you," Tate said, but he could hear the fear in her voice.
"I need to do this alone," Troy said.
Tate hugged him. He squeezed her tight and felt the bones beneath her skin. He pushed his face into her silky hair, just for a moment, before turning to go.
He didn't look back.
CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
WHEN TROY REACHED THE edge of the bridge, he could just make out the dark shape of his father in the middle. The chop chop of the helicopter seemed closer, but it droned back and forth, still moving without an apparent purpose.
"Dad?" he called out.
"Yes," his father said softly. "It's me, Troy."
Troy stepped out onto the steel bridge, his feet clapping the metal with an empty sound. When he reached his father, he stood facing him, and his dad put a hand on each of Troy's shoulders.
"I know this is where you come to dream your biggest dreams," his father said.
Troy thought he saw the glimmer of tears in his father's eyes. Troy's own eyes began to fill, and he said, "But this is a nightmare."
"I didn't mean it to be, Son," his dad said, wincing and looking up into the starry sky. "You have to believe that. I was never going to take your money. I was just going to trade it. You have to understand. They said they'd kill me, Troy. I took their money and invested it because I thought I couldn't lose. I was in the big time. It was all going so well-my condo, the planes, the Porsche-and then the economy, it just…no one thought it could ever happen. I…I…"
His father hung his head, and his shoulders sagged. He clasped his hands, wrung them together, and swayed. Over the sound of crickets, Troy heard the growing thump of the helicopter's blades pounding in the night. Above, the fat beam of a spotlight stroked the stars, wavering, and then burst through the trees to light up the bridge. They turned and shielded their eyes against the white light. Troy's father took Troy's arm and pulled him into a tight hug. He squeezed the back of Troy's head so that it almost hurt.