Page 29 of Daddy Detectives: Episode 1
Right after lunch, we bundle the babies in warm clothing—in sweaters that Ingrid knitted for them, along with matching hats. I lay them in our double stroller and tuck them in with matching gray fleece blankets with little white baby elephants on them. The blankets are gifts from Tyler’s sister.
“Ready to go?” Tyler asks as he walks into the kitchen wearing blue jeans, a navy hoodie, and sneakers. As much as I love seeing him looking dashing in his black suit, I get a big kick out of seeing him dressed casually.
Tyler grabs my jacket off the coat rack by the back door and holds it for me as I slip my arms into the sleeves. He smiles down at Lizzie and Will, his voice softening as he talks to them. “Are you two ready to go out and face the world? Are you? Do you want to go for a walk?”
Hearing Tyler speak baby talk to our kids makes me weak in the knees.
Will kicks excitedly, and Lizzie blinks as she gazes up at Tyler. A moment later, she breaks into a big smile as she stares up at her Papa.
I grab Tyler’s arm. “Oh, my God, babe! She’s smiling!” I whip out my phone and take a picture of her huge toothless grin, which I then forward to our family group chat, which includes Tyler's mom and sister, as well as my parents and my sister. I caption the picture “Baby girl’s first smile!”
Tyler holds the back door open while I push the stroller outside. We head down the driveway and turn right to head toward Lake Shore Drive. We cross the busy street at the crosswalk and then make our way over to the paved walking path, which is rather crowded today, but that’s not surprising given how nice the weather is. The beach is filled with people, but of course no one’s in the water. It’s too late in the year for swimming. I’m excited about next summer, when we can take the kids out on the boat and play with them in the water.
“Which way?” Tyler asks me when we reach the path.
“Left. It’s less crowded.”
We walk for a good half-hour along the path that follows the shoreline. I glance out at the boats on the lake and feel a pang. I haven’t taken my boat out since the kids were born.
“Do you miss it?” Tyler asks. He must be reading my mind. “Being out on the water?”
“Yes. Maybe next year when the kids are older, we can all go.”
Tyler and I take turns pushing the stroller. I don’t think either one of us has gotten over the novelty of it.
Two white-haired women wearing matching tracksuits stop to see the babies. Theyoohandahhover them, and then glance up at us with curious expressions on their faces.
“Who’s the father?” one of them asks. She glances at Tyler. “I’m guessing you are. They have your coloring.”
Just as I begin to nod, Tyler says, “We both are.” And then he surprises me by laying one of his hands overtop mine as it grasps the stroller’s handle.
The women smile, first at each other, and then at us.
“My, how things have changed,” one of them says wistfully. She looks at the other woman. “Honestly, I never thought I’d see the day.” Then, to us, she says, “Congratulations, you two. You make a very fine couple.”
“Thanks,” I say, grinning from ear to ear. “So do you.”
The women’s smiles broaden as understanding sinks in, and I could swear they’re both blushing.
* * *
When we return to the townhouse, Kimi comes out through the carriage house door to meet us in the drive. “All right, guys. It’s been eight weeks. Does this mean you’re taking cases again?”
Tyler nods. “I suppose it does.”
“Good, because we got a call a few minutes ago from a woman who’s worried about her teenage daughter who’s sneaking out of the house at night. Her mom wants to know what she’s up to. I told her I wasn’t sure if we could take the case, but I promised I’d call her back this afternoon. I wrote down all the details if you want to see them.”
While those two are chatting about following up with the new client, I run down to the curb to see if the mail has come. I open the door to our mailbox to find a single white envelope inside, addressed to me. But there’s no postmark on the envelope. It wasn’t mailed through the post office. A chill goes down my spine when I realize someone put it in here.
I open the envelope and pull out a sheet of plain white paper. On it is a handwritten note.
Ian,
I know everything.
Your mother was a whore and a drug addict.
And you’re no better.
