“Yeah, makes sense,” she said, still dazed.
A dozen memories of Oliver flitted through her mind in that instant. Instead of playing tag on the beach with the rest of them, he’d sit for hours in the sun digging for shells. And she remembered the funny way he’d stick his tongue out in concentration while coloring. The way he’d randomly stand on his hands because he was a kid and he could.
“I wish I had better news,” he said.
“I asked you to help.”
“Is there anything else I can do?”
She shook her head, although McQueen wouldn’t have seen it. She was too dazed to think straight. Except, maybe there was something.
“McQueen? Can I ask for another favor?”
“What is it?”
“Two more names,” she said. “Can you get me their information?”
“What are the names?”
“Kendra Tate,” she said. “And Antonio Russo.”
“Other siblings?”
“Kendra came to the house a couple months before I left. Antonio... I never met him. He came and left right before I did, but I still want to talk to him, anyway. Deacon said Antonio was one of the kids Dr. Capello couldn’t help.”
“I’ll see what I can find for you.”
“Thank you. Really, thank you.”
“Of course. But, Allison?”
“Yes?”
“I don’t like this.”
“You don’t have to help me if you don’t want to,” she said.
“No, I mean, I don’t like hearing that a teenage boy killed himself a few months after leaving that house you’re in.”
“Do you think I like hearing it?” she asked.
“First you, and now this boy? I’m tempted to bring the police in.”
“That’s insane, McQueen.”
“Insane? Someone tried to kill you, and this kid kills himself a couple months after leaving that house,” McQueen said.
“I’m trying to find out what happened. And whatever did happen, children were involved. Young children, who probably didn’t understand what they were doing. I’m not trying to put anybody in jail,” she said. “I just want to know the truth so I can stop wondering what happened. That’s all. And I really don’t want anyone bothering Dr. Capello. He doesn’t have much time left, anyway.”
“I’m going to lose sleep at night over you,” McQueen said. “And not for the reasons I used to.”
Allison sighed heavily.
“Look,” McQueen said with a sigh, “I’m not telling you to leave. I wouldn’t dare tell you what to do. But where there’s smoke there’s fire, and if I were you, I’d keep my mouth and nose covered.”
Allison wanted to argue with him, but she was afraid he might have a point.
“I’ll be safe,” she said.
“Better be.”
She got off the phone with him and a minute later had the email. She found Roland in the side yard chopping wood again. It was warm that day, surprisingly so for October on the coast, and Roland was just in jeans and a T-shirt. For a couple minutes, she stood far back and watched him work. It amazed her how he made it look so easy as he raised the ax, brought it down, split the wood in two. His grip was strong and his swing fluid and fearless. This was not a man who worried about chopping off a toe. She took great comfort in Roland’s strength and size. He was the sort of man one instinctively ran to when scared or in trouble. A human umbrella, a living breathing shelter from the storm. McQueen had never done anything more physically taxing than lift weights at the gym three times a week with his trainer. If he could see Roland right now, he wouldn’t worry one bit about her. With Roland with her, she would be safe.
Roland finally noticed her presence. He took his safety glasses off and set his ax aside.
“You looking for me?” he asked.
“More firewood? Still not cold out,” she said.
Roland sighed. “What can I say? It’s good stress relief. I was the wood chopper at the abbey, too. Wonder who they suckered into doing it now that I’m gone.”
“You had to chop wood at the abbey?”
“We ran a working farm,” Roland said. “Grew most of our own food. And we had sheep and a few cows. We also brewed our own beer. It helps pay the bills.”
“Your own beer? Hipster monks. You even have the man bun.”
“It’s just a ponytail.”
“You’re so Oregon,” she said, smiling. “I was wondering how a monk got your bulk.”
“Throwing hay and chopping wood every day for eight straight years is a good workout. Now, what’s wrong? You look upset.”
“McQueen called me back. Finally.”
“He found Oliver?”
“Yes and no.”
“What does that mean?”
Allison told him everything while Roland listened in silence.
“Roland?” she asked when he hadn’t responded at all.
He ran a hand roughly through his hair.
“Shit,” he said, followed by a few more choice words. “He’s sure about all this?”
“He had his assistant triple-check it. He didn’t want to freak us out without reason. That’s why it took so long to get back to us.” Allison took a step toward him but didn’t touch him. He didn’t seem ready for that yet. “What do you think we should do?”
He exhaled heavily.
“You said his mom’s in Vancouver?” Roland asked.
“Vancouver, Washington,” she said. “Not Canada.”
“That’s two hours away,” Roland said. “Right across the bridge from Portland.”
“You really think we should go knocking on her door?”
“We’ll call first, but we should go, too. You can hang up on a call but it’s a lot harder to slam a door in someone’s face. Especially your face.”
“Do you want to come with me?” she asked.
“No,” he said. “But I will. I want to know why I never knew my brother killed himself. That’s something we should have known. And it wasn’t like with you. He seemed fine when they took him home.”
“Do you think they told your dad when he died?” Allison asked.
“If Dad had known, he would have told me.”
“You sure?” she asked. “He didn’t tell you the whole truth about why I left.”
Roland shrugged. “I thought I was sure.”
“You want to ask him?”
“If he weren’t so sick I might,” Roland said. “He barely slept last night. He’s in a bad mood this morning already. I don’t want to risk upsetting him.”
“Yeah, I wouldn’t want to tell a dying man one of his foster kids killed himself, either,” Allison said. “You think he’ll be suspicious if we went away for a day?”
“Let me handle that,” he said.
She went to him and kissed him.
“I needed that,” he said.
“Me, too. I was doing laundry when McQueen called. I was folding your underwear.”
He laughed. “You don’t have to do my laundry.”
“I threw yours in with mine. I kind of like folding your underwear,” she said. “Is this what a real adult relationship feels like?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never been in one.”
“Me, neither. I’m enjoying it,” she said. Shared work, shared sorrows, shared joys...she could get used to living like this.
He kissed her again. “Don’t tell my abbot but...so am I.”
Roland offered to make the phone call to Oliver’s mother. He’d met her once and had been closer to Oliver during his time at The Dragon than anyone else. Meanwhile Allison returned to the house and changed out of her yoga pants and sweatshirt into her jeans, brown leather boots and her favorite burgundy wraparound cashmere sweater. She hoped it was appropriate for paying condolences to a total stranger. As she’d finished putting her hair up in a twist, Roland came into the bathroom.
“Well?” Allison asked.
“I got his mom on the phone. She said we can come by this evening for a few minutes. She remembered Oliver telling her I was his best friend.”
Allison smiled weakly. “That’s sweet. How did she sound?”
“Not very happy to hear from me, but it sounds like she’s never very happy to hear from anyone. I think she’s depressed. Can’t blame her for that.”
“She say anything else?”
“She said Dad did know. She called him right after it happened.”
“He knew?” Allison wasn’t as surprised as she wanted to be.
Roland nodded. “I couldn’t get much more out of her. She said we could talk about it this evening.”