In Real Life (Prologue)

Part 3: The Ghost

1.

My cellphone was ringing to that iPhone tone everybody hates because it is the same noise everybody uses as an alarm to wake up in the morning—everyone except Leo. He waked up to Bad Bunny singing about this good girl-gone bad. To be honest, I never thought I would actually like Bad Bunny. But as I was saying... I already told you that my Father was a delicate topic to write about. He gets to the bottom of everything. I am confident enough to say that my Father could end the FBI's career if he were interested to do so. But he wouldn't clean up other people's messes unless that mess would damage him in some way. And I haven't spoken with him for weeks. He would only call if it were urgent—an emergency or such... some mess that would damage him in some way.

"Are you going to send him to voicemail?" Leo spoke with true fear in his words.

I had drifted off once again. I faced directly at the screen with the incoming call. God—I hated that 'sencha' ringtone, but no Bad Bunny jingle would save me now. I slid my finger to accept the call and brought the phone to my ear. My heart accelerating to the sudden silence. But my Father was already at the other side of the line. I could hear him breathing.
With all the courage that was left inside of me, I took a deep breath and broke the silence.

"Hello?"

Leo beaconed Venice to follow him out of her own living room. Bold, but smart of him. I felt sorry if Venice would have the impression that my Father was a hit man. Maybe he was. But maybe her parents were as well. This was her unconventional manor after all.

"Are you alone?" Those were always his first dry words. No greeting—not even some sprinkle of emotion.
I nodded before telling him I was. Leo and Venice were already walking through the hallway. A fluffy white cat trailing behind them like a tiger stalking its prey.

"We have to have a word son, and I don't have much time so I will cut right to the chase. Did you or your friend have anything to do with Daniel Adams's dissapearance?"

I froze for a moment, feeling how my Father's words peeled through every layer of nerves in my body. A million of questions came storming through me as I tried to come up with why he would ask me that.

Silence.

I could hear him 'question-marking' me at the other side of the line.

"Dad? Why would you ask me that?" Even a first grader could tell through my lying voice
"Dead bodies smell a hell of a lot, and they can be a huge mess if not properly taken care of. The cops already called and my attorneys already handled their first attempt to find some evidence. You are my son, Lincoln, and if you are in trouble you have to tell me."

Of course I had to tell him. He did care because this would make my Father an easy target. If the police caught his son they could easily come up with some excuse to investigate him. He's been so careful at protecting himself after all these years... he wasn't going to simply let me drag him down with me. In a mess I was responsible for cleaning.

"We didn't do it, Dad. But Leo and I are almost certain of who did."

Silence.

It was the type of silence that would cue me to continue.

"Joe Damon. He goes to my school and he had a motive. Leo and I think—"
"I don't have much time," my Father cut me off. "Tell me the facts and tell me how can I protect you."