An Unfinished Story(67)

“What is this?” She took the picture from his hands and looked. Her body went rigid.

Whitaker asked, “Who is he?”

Claire was staring at the photograph in shock. David and a boy were standing in front of a baseball stadium. The sign above their heads read: HOME OF THE BALTIMORE ORIOLES. David was wearing a green polo shirt and seersucker shorts. And he was holding his arm around a boy she’d never seen before—a white kid with a broad nose and straight brown hair partially covering one eye.

Whitaker was asking again, “Who is he?”

Claire shook her head and looked again. “I don’t know.”

But she did. She did know.

“I think that’s—” Whitaker paused.

Claire and Whitaker said at the same time, “Orlando.”

Claire looked up at Whitaker, who was now leaning with both hands on her car door. She looked back down at the photo. “What are they doing in Baltimore?”

Whitaker pointed to the stadium in the background. “No, that’s Ed Smith Stadium in Sarasota. It’s where the Orioles have their spring training.”

Claire nodded. “I’ve never seen him before. I don’t understand what’s going on.” She could barely wrap her head around what this picture had to say, all the possibilities.

Whitaker circled to the other side of her convertible, picked up the books, and climbed into the passenger-side seat. “We need to find Orlando.”

She was still staring at the picture. “Where did you find this?”

“Behind the drawers.”

“How did we not see it before?”

“I don’t know. Must have been stuck between the runners.” Moving along with his thoughts, Whitaker said, “Something crazy is going on right now, Claire. I feel like you were meant to give me that desk, and I was supposed to find this picture. And now we’re supposed to find the boy.”

Claire turned to him. “Five minutes ago, you were telling me you were done.”

“I know! But that was before the story fell into my lap. This is it. This is the lead I was waiting for . . . and thought would never come.” He lifted up the three composition books. “I can’t stop now. What if Orlando is truly in trouble? I mean, in real life.”

He was right. Claire’s mind was racing so quickly, she couldn’t process the next steps. “Where would we even start?”

The man beside her had suddenly come alive and was apparently thinking more clearly than he had in a decade. He said enthusiastically, “Probably by getting me out of this robe and into something more presentable.”

She looked him up and down. “I agree.”

Whitaker looked to the sky and back. “I don’t know about you, but I’m going to Sarasota. Orlando would be fourteen or so now. I’m going to find him. I’m not coming back until I know he’s okay. And I have the ending.” Whitaker turned fully toward her with bright eyes. “Are you with me?”

Claire felt blindsided by the idea but couldn’t imagine not going. She wanted answers as badly as he did. Was Orlando okay? How much of the story was actually true? And what was this secret life David had been living? “Yes, I’m with you.” She wanted this book finished more than he did!

“Come here,” Whitaker said, opening up his arms.

Their hug was awkward as they fumbled over the center console, but once their arms wrapped around each other, he pulled her in. “What a ride, Claire.”

And she found herself not wanting to let go of him. How much longer could she keep her feelings for him a secret?

They discussed the logistics as they returned to his house. Claire offered to drive to Sarasota. While she waited in Whitaker’s driveway for him to pack a bag, she asked a coworker to take care of Willy. Then Claire took a picture of David’s photo with her phone and sent it to his close friends and family members, asking if they knew anything about the boy. She was in touch with them enough that reaching out wasn’t a complete surprise.

The news settled in her mind, and she wondered how David could have had a relationship with a boy without her even knowing it. What else had he been doing of which she was unaware?

Tapping her fingers, she reminded herself that she had always trusted David implicitly. Why was she jumping to conclusions? It’s not like he had a wife and family down in Sarasota. This wasn’t a picture of his son. Right? David could have gone down one time to a game and met this kid, something as simple as that. To that end, she texted the picture to a couple of David’s old friends too.

As Claire pulled away with Whitaker riding shotgun, she drove with great anticipation. They were closing in on answers. Though she was terrified of learning the whole truth, she knew that they were onto something amazing. She had a feeling that Whitaker was right. The end of the story was waiting with Orlando, and those two cutting across town in her convertible right this moment was meant to be.

“How in the world are we going to find him? A picture and a first name. That’s all we have. Assuming Orlando is his real name. I don’t know what’s truth or fiction anymore.”

“Why don’t you reach out to the people you’ve been interviewing? I’m sure someone can lead you.”

“That’s actually a great idea.” He took out his phone and worked away for a while.