Vintage Rob

Chapter 2 - Skeletons in December

Instead of Alan Lord at the FBI, voice mail picked up again. Rob put away his phone. In front of him, red and white Santas papered a brick school building's first floor windows. Snowflakes decorated the second floor windows. Years ago, Makiko attended a similar looking school in Cambridge. Now, she was almost old enough to be a high school graduate. She had to be a completely different person.

Rob's phone rang and he fumbled for it. "White Taliban?" First Lieutenant Tim Brown of the Massachusetts National Guard shouted. "Don't tell me! Tell the Pentagon!"

"I had to make sure the desk sergeant tracked you down."

"You lied?"

"I'm an evil genius," Rob said. "Hey listen, we have a problem."

"We? What we?" Tim Brown spoke quickly. "Is there a mouse in your pocket, or what?"

Soldier banter. Rob was out of practice. He lingered at the bottom of stairs that lead to the school's front door. An American flag hung at half-mast from a tall pole on his right. "Tim, I met a man today who knows what happened during that patrol. You get my message about Navy officers?"

"I did. Major Martinez wants to know why you're asking."

"Then it rings a bell?"

"Martinez said a Mark from Naval Intelligence was at brigade headquarters during that time."

"Why?"

"I'm an artillery officer in the National Guard, Rob. My day job's in an ugly cubicle. Get real. All Martinez said was that some prick named Mark observed for a few days. No one knew why, and no one cared."

An older man wearing a brown suit coat peered out the glass in the school's front door. "I have to go," Rob said.

"So what you want, Pirone?"

"I don't know. I'll call you back in a few days."

"Come to Lynn, the City of Sin, and join us for a Fatty Burger and beer. Some of us made it back because of you, so bring this Mark guy. We'll set him straight. Believe you me."

Rob reached the top stair. "Not a bad idea, Tim. We'll see." He put away his phone. He had visited schools before, but the flag at half-mast shook him. It had not occurred to him that they might ask about recent events. Kids ask crazy stuff.

The man inside the building held open the door. "Robert Pirone, the photographer?"

***

A few hours after the read aloud, Rob raised his hand to catch Molly's attention. She surveyed the bookstore cafe's seating area with furrowed brows, an expression inherited from her mother. She resembled Samantha in other ways too: same speckled skin on her cheeks, same soft brown hair. Rob longed for a flicker of joy on her face. Expressionless, she walked toward him, swerving around the Christmas shoppers filling the cafe's narrow aisles. Afraid to risk a handshake, never mind a hug, Rob stayed behind the small table. He rested his hand on a travel guide about Japan. "Great to see you." He would not mention she looked grown up. She would make a mountain out of that, for sure.

Molly eyed the travel guide. She lacked her mother's affection for him, but not her brutal intelligence.

"I'm going to Japan next week," Rob said. "To see Makiko, I hope."

Molly shifted her gaze from the book. Her skepticism rained down on him like acid. "Good luck with that," she said.

Rob's Buddha nature, or desperation, shut his mouth. Molly had Makiko's contact information and he wanted it. Besides, her lack of reverence was an admirable thing. Rob had always loved angry rebels. "I can't decide whether to buy this or not." He tapped the book. "I'm still checking it out." His finger froze. Anything loosely connected to sex or flirting was dangerous. Molly excelled at taking offense, but she was also all that was left of Samantha.