He
remembered first not reacting to the situation at hand, but going into a rage over the
fact that it was not spelled out in cut up magazine letters. He had insisted
they show him the letter, and would not accept their telling him “it doesn’t
really work that way anymore, sir.” He’d read the text of it off a computer
screen, but couldn’t remember it verbatim now. Something about the kids. Didn't he care about the kids? He had them one weekend a month for the past 12 years - although since turning 18, Molly hadn’t come more than a handful on times, but she was paid off now, so he didn’t really blame her). Of course he didn’t
wish anything terrible on them, but he certainly wouldn’t really say he liked them. They were simply his
responsibility (“responsibility” being a synonym for “burden”). And honestly, he wasn’t
a bad father. He never hit them, he never yelled, he never discouraged them
from doing whatever it was they wanted. And, obviously, he’d given them
everything they wanted, ever. It made sense, when he couldn’t show up to Molly’s
high school graduation, that she should get a brand new Prius. And the kids
liked it. They seemed to. They never complained.
What the note-writers had wanted
was 273.8 million dollars, which (he assumed they must have known by some
technological miracle he didn’t understand) was the almost-to-the-dollar exact
amount in all of his savings accounts combined, across three different banks in
two different countries. He had a few thousand in his local chequing account as
well, but aside from that, nothing, really (he had stocks, of course, but if he sold them now he'd suffer a huge loss, the way the market was sitting). He’d sold the business 3 years ago
and winding down from a lifetime of legitimate hard work, followed by, as is often the case for the most privileged of society, great financial success. He thought he’d be retired by next summer. He
hadn't wanted the kids to take that away from him. They’d already taken away
his good years, his adulthood, his sense of adventure and exploration. Not his
retirement too, now.
So, against the
strong-suggestion-turned-to-earnest-appeal of the police captain, he had given
instructions not to respond to the note. His ex-wife was so upset she dove through security and tried to break into his house. He called 911 and waited
inside, as it wasn't like she would be reasonable enough to talk to. Her latest attempt was having his served with a civil suit.
Trying to legal him into paying, he'd noted. He didn’t think she would have paid if it
was her money.
So when the police captain
called him to the station at 4:27 am, he knew this was going to either be
really good news, or really bad.
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