“What do you mean?”
Mike did not reply, but both of them knew. The truth was, horrible as it might seem, that their interests and the Hills’ interests might no longer be in harmony. Neither one of them wanted to say it. But they both knew.
“Let’s just find him first,” Tia said.
“That’s what I’m trying to do. You work your end, I’ll work mine.”
“I love you, Mike.”
“I love you too.”
Mike knocked again. There was no answer at the door. He lifted his hand to knock a third time when the door opened. Anthony the bouncer filled the doorway. He folded his massive arms and said, “You look like hell.”
“Thanks, I appreciate that.”
“How did you find me?”
“I went online and looked up recent photographs of the Dartmouth football team. You only graduated last year. Your address is registered in the alumni site.”
“Smart,” Anthony said with a small smile. “We Dartmouth men are very smart.”
“I got jumped in that alley.”
“Yeah, I know. Who do you think called the police?”
“You?”
He shrugged. “Come on. Let’s take a walk.”
Anthony closed the door behind him. He was dressed in workout clothes. He wore shorts and one of those tight sleeveless tees that were suddenly the rage not just with guys like Anthony, who could pull it off, but guys Mike’s age who simply couldn’t.
“It’s just a summer gig,” Anthony said. “Working at the club. But I like it. I’m going to law school at Columbia in the fall.”
“My wife is a lawyer.”
“Yeah, I know. And you’re a doctor.”
“How do you know that?”
He grinned. “You’re not the only one who can use college connections.”
“You looked me up online?”
“Nah. I called the current hockey coach—a guy named Ken Karl, also worked as the defensive line coach on the football team. Described what you looked liked, told him you claimed to be an All-American. He said ‘Mike Baye’ right away. Says you were one of the best hockey players the school ever had. You still hold some scoring record.”
“So does this mean we have a bond, Anthony?”
The big man didn’t reply.
They headed down the stoop. Anthony turned right. A man approaching in the other direction called out, “Yo, Ant!” and the two men did a complicated handshake before moving on.
Mike said, “Tell me what happened last night.”
“Three, maybe four guys kicked the crap out of you. I heard the commotion. When I got there, they were running away. One of the guys had a knife. I thought you were a goner.”
“You scared them off?”
Anthony shrugged.
“Thanks.”
Another shrug.
“You get a look at them?”
“Not their faces. But they were white guys. Lots of tattoos. Dressed in black. Skanky and skinny and stoned out of their freakin’ minds, I bet. Lots of anger. One was cupping his nose and cursing.” Anthony smiled again. “I do believe you broke it.”
“And you’re the one who called the cops?”
“Yup. Can’t believe you’re out of bed already. I figured you’d be out of commission for at least a week.”
They kept walking.
“Last night, the kid with the varsity jacket,” Mike said. “Had you seen him before?”
Anthony said nothing.
“You recognized my son’s picture too.”
Anthony stopped. He plucked sunglasses out of his collar and put them on. They covered his eyes. Mike waited.
“Our Big Green connection only goes so far, Mike.”
“You said you’re amazed I’m out of bed already.”
“That I did.”
“You want to know why?”
He shrugged.
“My son is still missing. His name is Adam. He’s sixteen years old, and I think he’s in a lot of danger.”
Anthony kept walking. “Sorry to hear about that.”
“I need some information.”
“I look like the Yellow Pages to you? I live out there. I don’t talk about what I see.”
“Don’t hand me that ‘code of the street’ crap.”
“And don’t hand me that ‘Dartmouth men stick together’ crap.”
Mike put his hand on the big man’s arm. “I need your help.”
Anthony pulled away, started walking faster. Mike caught up to him.
“I’m not leaving, Anthony.”
“Didn’t think you would,” he said. He stopped. “Did you like it up there?”
“Where?”
“Dartmouth.”
“Yeah,” Mike said. “I liked it a lot.”
“Me too. It was like a different world. You know what I’m saying?”
“I do.”
“No one in this neighborhood knew about that school.”
“How did you end up there?”
He smiled, adjusted the sunglasses. “You mean a big black brother from the streets going to lily-white Dartmouth?”
“Yeah,” Mike said. “That’s exactly what I mean.”
“I was a good football player, maybe even great. I got recruited Division 1A. Could have gone Big Ten.”
“But?”
“But I also knew my limitations. I wasn’t good enough to go pro. So what would be the point? No education, joke diploma. So I went to Dartmouth. Got a full ride and liberal arts degree. No matter what else, I will always be an Ivy League graduate.”
“And now you’re going to Columbia Law.”
“Yup.”
“And then? I mean, after you graduate.”
“I’m staying in the neighborhood. I didn’t do this to get out. I like it here. I just want to make it better.”
“Good to be a stand-up guy.”
“Right, but bad to be a snitch.”
“You can’t walk away from this, Anthony.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Under different circumstances, I’d love to keep chatting about our alma mater,” Mike said.
“But you got a kid to save.”
“Right.”
“I’ve seen your son before, I think. I mean, they all look alike to me, what with the black clothes and the sullen faces, like the world gave them everything and that pisses them off. I got trouble sympathizing. Out here, you get stoned to escape. What the hell do these kids have to escape from—a nice house, parents who love them?”