The Mysteries by Lisa Tuttle Read Free Book Online Page A

owe them money? Or did you know something secret, or . . . ?”
    He sighed and shook his head. “No, no, nothing like that. No debts or drugs; nobody was after me. It was just . . . I couldn't stand my own life. I had to get out. You know, a wolf will gnaw off its own paw if it has to, to get out of a trap. That was kind of what it felt like I was doing.”
    What was I in that scenario, I wondered: his paw, or part of the trap? How had he been trapped? I didn't understand, and I said so. Finally, after all these years, I'd found my father, and I wasn't going to let him go until he'd explained himself.
    “What was it you didn't like? If you didn't want to live with us anymore, you could have just moved out, like a normal person. You were free; you weren't even married. You could have quit your job, too—it's not like you were some indentured servant. You didn't have to sneak away like a criminal and disappear and make everybody worry.”
    “I'm sorry.” He didn't sound it. If anything, he sounded bored with the whole business. He drummed his thumbs against the steering wheel. “I just did what I had to do. Sometimes, you have to look out for number one, even if other people get hurt. Surely you can understand that?” He gave me a hopeful look. I stared back, stone-faced, and he sighed. “Well, maybe when you're older. Maybe you'll be able to forgive me then. Now look. I'm going to drive you down to the bus station and get you a ticket to Milwaukee, and you can call your mother and tell her where you are—”
    “She knows where I am.”
    His eyes widened with shock. “Did she send you here?”
    “She doesn't know about you. I mean she knows I'm in Minneapolis—I'm here for a student conference.”
    “You didn't run away?”
    I shook my head.
    He looked disappointed. I felt I had let him down, then hated myself for caring. He wanted me to be a runaway, someone like him, who could disappear without a word of explanation and let people down. But I wasn't like that and didn't want to be.
    “Why didn't you ever call us? Once you got out of your trap and knew you were safe, I mean,” I added sarcastically. “Didn't you care what happened to me and Heather? Didn't you miss us at all?”
    “Of course I did—I missed you terribly.” He spoke with a sudden, intense sincerity which, I decided angrily, had to be fake. “You don't know how many times I started dialing your number—”
    “You're right, I don't know. Don't care, either.”
    “Of course you're mad at me for leaving. I don't expect you to understand why I had to do it. But, Ian, believe it or not, I've always wanted the best for you. Mary's a great mother. I knew she would look after you fine. And after a couple of years I thought, what right do I have to get in touch? You'd been managing all right without me. You'd probably nearly forgotten me. For all I knew, you might have a stepfather or something by then. It wouldn't be right, it wouldn't be fair to
you
for me to come barging back into your lives just because I wanted to see you again. It was better if I stayed away.”
    I felt like my head would explode if I listened to another second of his self-justifying crap. I yanked the door open.
    “Ian, where are you going?”
    “Away.” I got out and slammed the door.
    He lowered the window on my side. “Come on, get in. Tell me where you're staying, and I'll take you there.”
    “I can get back on my own.”
    “Don't be silly. Get in.”
    “Don't you tell me what to do.” I marched off, and the car rolled slowly after me, my father telling me to get in.
    I really did want to walk away and have nothing more to do with him, but I was miles from where I should be, with no idea of how to get back there, and it was dark and very cold. After a brief struggle with my pride, I got back into the car and told him the name of the motel.
    He tried asking me about the conference, and how I was doing at school, and what my interests were, but I wouldn't play,