The woman who sat across from me in the diner kept picking at the stuffing coming out of the booth.
“Coffee?” I offered.
She looked over her shoulder at the waitress approaching the table.
“Yes, I’d like a cup.”
I nodded to the waitress to bring us two cups.
“So, tell me Ms. Martin. Why did you make up this story?”
I wasn’t the kind of man to hold back my emotions or my thoughts. I knew when someone was conning me. And this woman wasn’t taking my son from me.
She slammed her fist on the table and hissed, “My son was kidnapped. I didn’t make it up.”
“Yeah, that part of your story checks out. But why do you think it’s my son? Why did you contact DC policy last night? Hunter has been in the system for three years. There is no record of anyone ever trying to contact him, meet him, reach out to him. Nothing.” I glared at her.
She pulled the wool cap over her forehead. “How was I supposed to know he was in DC?”
She had met me on I-95, just south of Fredericksburg. I was surprised no one had spotted me yet.
I leaned back, crossing my arms. I didn’t buy it. None of it. “You’re not that far away. Tell me what it is you want.”
“I want my child,” she seethed.
“Hunter isn’t yours,” I countered.
If Julie knew I was here she would kill me. But I had to get to the bottom of this myself. The investigator had reluctantly given me the mother’s name: Martha Martin. The rest I did myself with a little web search.
“You don’t know that.” She wasn’t backing down.
We waited while the coffee was served until we resumed our argument. “I know that kid has had a shitty life. He’s been in and out of foster homes. He didn’t have clothes. He wasn’t eating. Shit, he barely spoke a sentence when I met him. But you know what? He’s happy now. And you’re crazy as hell, woman if you think I’m going to let you ruin that with some kind of insane claim.”
She leaned over the table. “You think the courts are going to take your side over mine?”
“It’s not going to get that far. Name your price. I know that’s why you’re really here.”
“Excuse me?”
“Don’t pretend you’re shocked. I know bullshit. Fuck, I invented bullshit. Hunter isn’t your kid. You saw him on TV. You saw the story on how I’m trying to adopt him and you thought you could cash in on that.”
Her eyes darted wildly.
I pulled out a file I had received from the lead investigator and slapped it on the table. “In here is a list of some of your pettier crimes. Check fraud. Shop lifiting. I think I saw an attempted breaking and entering. So I’m going to put my money on the fact that this was the biggest opportunity you’d ever seen and you thought you could walk away with some serious money.”
“I lost my son three years ago,” she spoke slowly. “How can you say any of this to me?”
I nodded. “I know. I’m sorry about that. I can’t imagine what it’s like to lose a child. But you know what that feels like. So why in God’s name would you try to put me through it?” I sat for a minute before I continued. “I’ll write you a check right now. A huge check. You take it and cash it in the morning and then you call the police and tell them you were mistaken. That you were so emotional you made a mistake.”
I pulled out my checkbook. I wrote in the date and her name on the top line.
“But what if he is mine?” She looked at me.
“Martha, we both know that Hunter is yours.”
She closed her eyes and nodded.
“I’m not going to report you. I’m not even going to consider this extortion. This is a gift from me to you.” I made sure there were lots of zeros on the end before tearing it from the book.