Chapter 16: Who Your Dad Is

Abe was dressed before I found my sweater.

He had his jeans on and his boots half laced, and he was already at the door.

"Stay here with Finn. My men will be on the house."

"No."

He turned.

"Nobody in this family goes anywhere alone today," I said. "We all go."

"Yvette, a man with a rifle..."

"Is not going to shoot at you while you're holding a five-year-old in pajamas."

He stared at me.

Then he went and got our son out of bed himself.

Finn slept the whole way to the hospital with his face in Abe's neck.

Evanston Hospital at six in the morning smelled like floor wax and burnt coffee.

The plumber from the van was already in the hallway outside Hank's room, in a clean jacket now.

So was the man with the dog, without the dog.

A third man came off the elevator while we were walking.

He was small and grey and carried a sandwich bag.

He held it out to Abe without a word.

Inside was a single brass shell casing.

Abe took it out and rolled it under the hallway light.

He looked at the stamp on the bottom for two seconds.

"That's ours," he said. "That lot went to a dealer in Gary two years ago."

"Want the buyer list?" the small man asked.

"By tonight."

The small man got back in the elevator.

I was learning not to.

Hank was propped up in bed with his shoulder wrapped.

His wife was in the chair beside him, a small woman with a big purse, doing a crossword in pen.

"There he is," Hank said, when he saw Abe. "The reason I've got a hole in me."

Abe went to the bed and stood there.

He didn't seem to know what to do with his hands.

"Hank."

"Don't you cry in here. She'll make me hold your hand."

"I might," his wife said, without looking up.

Abe laughed once, and it came out broken.

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