When No One Is Watching (24 page)

During those visits, T. J. divulged little about himself or his situation, other than the fact that he was twenty-two years old and had been drinking and doing drugs since he was fourteen. T. J. continued attending regular AA meetings, although he declined Danny’s invitation to pick him up and drive together. Danny understood. It was clear that T. J. did not want others to know where he lived, as that might reveal his identity and more about himself than he was ready to share. They met privately for coffee and pie several more times, until T. J. confided that he really wasn’t a coffee drinker and was trying to watch his weight.

Exercise had been part of Danny’s routine since he became sober. He walked precisely three and a half miles every day, regardless of the weather. He had five different walking routes through the neighborhood, each of which he had measured precisely to confirm the mileage. Upon learning of T. J.’s desire to lose weight, Danny invited the young man to join him on his exercise walk rather than going out and consuming calories. T. J. happily agreed, and they began walking together at four thirty every afternoon.

As with many who were new to the program, the “anonymous” aspect of AA was critical to T. J.’s willingness to participate in it. He had never divulged his last name, nor anything about his family, the kind of work he did, if any, or where he lived. He purposely avoided asking other AA members personal questions out of fear that they would ask about his life. That tended to make conversation stilted and difficult.

After three weeks of walking together, Danny had developed a genuine fondness for his young walking partner. T. J. was awkward and nervous in a crowd, but he loosened up considerably during their walks. He was clearly a lost soul who had lived a tough life, but there was a quiet warmth, a good sense of humor, and an undeniable intelligence that had become increasingly evident through their conversations. Danny sensed that a level of trust had clearly been established and that it was just a matter of time before T. J. would really open up and talk about his life. Danny awaited that time patiently, knowing that it was much easier to help someone once you truly knew and understood him.

“Let’s stop and rest for a few minutes,” Danny said to T. J. as they approached the playground at Beverly Park, the halfway point on their walk. “I thought I was in decent shape, but I’m feeling a little winded today.”

T. J. looked amused. “Now, there’s a switch,” he said. “I’m the one who’s fat and out of shape and always slowing you down. Are you feeling okay?”

“I never thought that just walking could wear me out,” Danny replied, taking a seat on the nearby swing. “I must be getting old.”

T. J. sat on the adjacent swing. “Well, you’re still in much better condition than I am, even if you are an old coot.” T. J. smiled and began swinging slowly back and forth, just a few feet in either direction. “You’re whipping me into shape, though, Danny. I haven’t had regular exercise like this in I don’t know how long. It feels good. I actually look forward to these walks. In fact, it’s the highlight of my day.”

Danny looked at his young friend and returned the smile. “I’m glad to hear that, T. J. I look forward to it, too.”

Danny started swinging, also, matching T. J.’s easy pace. T. J. looked at him and grinned as he began pumping his legs, swinging faster and higher. Danny began pumping, too, trying to keep up. It became a competition, each pumping furiously, trying to swing higher than the other. Danny glanced at T. J. and saw a competitive fire in his eyes and a huge, open-mouthed grin, the first time he had seen anything resembling joy on the young man’s face. Their swings rose until they were parallel to the ground.

“We look like damn fools!” Danny shouted.

“I don’t give a shit! This is fun!” T. J. yelled back. “Yeeeeehaaaaa!” he hollered like an exuberant cowboy. They looked at each other and burst into wild, unrestrained laughter.

To anyone passing by, it would have been an odd sight: a trim, dignified-looking, middle-aged man and a large, overweight kid half his age swinging furiously and laughing uproariously as if they were small children. Eventually, they slowed to a stop, because their laughter had them doubled over, at risk of falling off of the soaring swings. They looked at each other again and were seized by another laughing fit, knowing how ridiculous they must have looked.

When the laughter subsided, Danny noticed that, for the first time since they had met, T. J. seemed truly relaxed and uninhibited. Danny sensed that a breakthrough might be imminent. He had been in similar situations with other alcoholics struggling to get a grip on their lives, and he recognized the signs of progress: the ability to trust another person, to accept friendship, and to stop punishing oneself and accept small doses of happiness.

They resumed their walk and were silent for a long while, but it was a comfortable silence. “Thanks for being there for me, Danny,” T. J. said after they had walked several blocks. “It means a lot to me,” he said softly, but without embarrassment, staring at the sidewalk.

“You’re welcome, T. J.”

“For the first time in years, I feel like I’m on a good path,” T. J. explained. Danny said nothing, sensing that T. J. wanted to say more and not wanting to interrupt. “My life has been a mess for a long time,” T. J. continued. “I’ve had some bad breaks, and they became my excuses for the booze and the drugs. I gave up, and I’ve been wasting my life away. And do you know what? Nobody cared. That made it so much worse, until you came along.”

“What about your family?” Danny asked.

“My dad died when I was twelve. That’s what started the downward spiral. It destroyed my mom. She got remarried about a year later, to a real jerk, and she’s on husband number four now. She drinks a lot. I guess that runs in the family. Anyway, we don’t keep in touch much.”

“Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

“One sister, four years younger than me. She’s got Down syndrome and lives in a home for people with special needs. I try to visit her as often as I can, but it’s not like she can help me get my act together. She’s got her own issues.”

“Sounds like you’ve had it pretty rough, T. J., but I’m glad you’re focused on the here and now rather than dwelling on your past. That’s what you really need to do.” Danny thought for a long moment, some part of him telling him not to probe deeper. “So, how did your dad die?” he asked with some hesitation.

“He was killed in a car wreck, by a drunk driver,” T. J. replied matter-of-factly.

“When was that, T. J.?” Danny asked, a sense of anxiety gripping him.

“Well, I’m twenty-two now, so that would make it ten years ago.”

Danny felt a cold chill overtaking him. “By the way, what does
T. J.
stand for?” he asked, trying his best to sound nonchalant.

“Thomas Joseph,” T. J. replied. “I used to go by Tommy when I was little, but I just felt like I wanted to change my identity when my mom remarried for the first time. So I became T. J. T. J. McGrath.”

Danny’s stomach did a somersault. He walked in stunned silence, trying to process the information he had just received. T. J. chatted happily, more open and talkative than Danny had ever seen him. He talked about being ready to build a new future, about going back to school, maybe even applying to law school eventually. He talked about job prospects that he might pursue while he went back to community college. He talked about ramping up his exercise program and really getting into shape so he’d feel as good physically as he did mentally.

Danny barely heard him. He was grappling with the undeniable reality that had just sunk in: he was the drunk driver, the one responsible for killing T. J.’s father and destroying his family. Could he possibly confront T. J. with that harsh reality? For what purpose? Should he make that confession now, when T. J. had at last seemed ready to pull his life together, when he finally felt that there was someone he could trust and confide in? How could he tell him that? It seemed so cruel. Yet his conscience tortured him. Knowing what he now knew, how could he conceal this information? Friendship and trust were based on honesty. How could he expect T. J. to believe he was trustworthy if he kept such a secret?

They reached the end of their trek, T. J. having chattered virtually the entire way since they left the park.

“Same time tomorrow, Danny?” he asked.

“Yeah, sounds good, T. J.,” Danny replied, looking and sounding distracted.

T. J. looked at him closely. “Are you okay, Danny? You don’t seem like yourself.”

Danny stared at his young friend for a long moment, looking troubled. “T. J. … there’s something I need to tell you.”

“Sure, what is it?” T. J. responded, starting to tense, based on the anxious look on Danny’s face.

“That car accident ten years ago … the one that killed your father …” Danny began, his voice trembling. “It was me. I was the drunk driver who drove him off the road.”

T. J. stared at him blankly, his mouth hanging open, unable to speak.

Danny continued. “My full name is Daniel Moran. Ten years ago, I was in a car accident with a man named Terry McGrath, who lived at Ninety-first and Hamilton. He died shortly after the accident. I went to prison—”

“It was
you
?” T. J. broke in, looking incredulous, his voice shaking. “
You
killed my father?”

“I’m afraid so, T. J. I didn’t know until just now. I can’t tell you how sorry—”

“You killed my father?” T. J. asked again in a loud voice, his shock quickly transforming into rage. “I can’t believe this! You ruined my life!” he shouted angrily, tears streaming down his face. “You ruined my mother’s life! You destroyed our family!” He stormed away, turning around after he’d gone ten feet. “Screw you, man! Stay the hell out of my life!” He ran off.

That evening, Danny sat in his living room armchair, feet up on the ottoman, flipping through his devotional like he did at the end of every day. The Scriptures and inspirational thoughts almost always brought him comfort and peace of mind. Tonight, he couldn’t focus on the words or the thoughts. He was consumed by misery and remorse. He had known for years that he had grievously harmed the McGrath family, and that guilt would always be with him. But learning of the consequences firsthand brought back a harsh sense of reality and renewed pain. His heart broke for T. J. and the difficult life he had endured for the last ten years. He felt a profound sense of anguish as he imagined what T. J. was going through at that moment as he confronted the possibility of his world crashing down around him again, just when there’d been some glimmer of hope.

He turned off the reading lamp and sat in the darkness. After a while, he flipped on the lava lamp and stared absently at the molten wax, amorphous, contorted shapes rising and falling in the blue water as he tried to blink back the tears. The effort was too much for him, and he gave up trying, weeping bitterly until he drifted off into a fitful sleep.

CHAPTER 36
V
ic Slazak awoke feeling exhilarated, now that he was back in investigative mode again. It had taken a little creativity and a healthy dose of bullshit to coax a reluctant campaign staffer into providing Freddy Salazar’s private cell phone number, but he had gotten it. Likewise, it took a bit of effort to locate Mike Nolan, who had left the Chicago Police Department nearly five years ago, but he had succeeded.

 

Nolan and a colleague had launched their own investigation and forensic testing company, where he was able to parlay his considerable skills into a growing and lucrative business. Their clients included private companies, county coroners’ offices, and an expanding list of suburban police departments that found it more economical to outsource non-routine evidence work than to try to maintain a staff with the necessary expertise, which was hard to find.

“Nolan? This is Vic Slazak.” Slazak was genuinely pleased to hear an old familiar voice answering his phone call.

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. “Vic Slazak? Jesus Christ, it’s been a long time. I figured you were probably dead, finally pissed off the wrong guy or something.”

Slazak chuckled. “No, I’m not dead. I just moved away for a while, but I’m back now. Just got into town.”

“Well, welcome back, Slazak.” Nolan sounded cheerful and friendly. “So, I’m sure you’re not calling to invite me to a ball game. What can I do for you?”

Slazak laughed again. “You’re right on the money, as usual, Nolan. I’ll get right to the point. I’m here because I’m finishing up some old business. Do you remember, right before I left, I was working on an auto accident case involving a drunk driver who ran somebody off the road and killed him?”

“How could I forget? You asked me to hang onto some evidence for you and told me I’d be in deep shit if anything ever happened to it.”

“You’ve got a good memory, Nolan. Were you able to get that stuff and put it somewhere for safekeeping?”

“It was against my better judgment, but I did it. I’ve got it in a safe at home. At least I don’t have to worry about getting fired by the police department anymore.”

“Excellent! Mind if I take it off your hands?”

“I’ve been hoping you would, but once you have it, you have to promise to leave me out of whatever it is you’re up to. I don’t want any part of it,” Nolan said sternly.

“You have my word. And I can assure you, I’m not up to anything devious. I’m just trying to make sure that an old case gets handled the right way.”

“I believe you, Slazak,” Nolan said agreeably. “I didn’t always agree with your methods, and sometimes you were a real horse’s ass, but I never questioned your motives.”

“Thanks, Nolan. Hey, if you’ve got a minute, I’d like to test your memory. Mind if I ask you a couple of questions?”

“Not at all. Fire away.”

“Good. First, I know it’s been a long time, but I was wondering whether you might recall the content of that blood analysis report?”

“Yeah, there wasn’t much to it. It was just a preliminary screening, no DNA testing. All it shows is that the blood recovered from that vehicle was Type B negative.”