Like Father, Like Son - 8

With a bit of prompting from Declan, Gerard haltingly told him about the game. “And then…”

“Yes, grandfather?”

“And then that boy appeared, damn him, and the game was over.”

“Where is my father now?”

“They took him away because…” Gerard frowned. “He did something and they…I think they said he was insane. Yes. He went insane because he killed his brother. I had to have him caged up like a wild animal.” Suddenly Gerard looked at Declan, puzzled. “Who are you?”

“Bryant’s son,” he explained again. He stood, offering his hand. “I think I should take you home now, it’s getting cold, it’s going to rain.”

“Where do I live? I don’t remember where I live.” Gerard’s voice rose in panic.

Gently Declan asked, “Do you have your wallet?”

Gerard patted his pockets. “Here,” he said, handing it to Declan. “But it’s a secret,” he whispered. “I’m not supposed to have it.”

Declan opened it. It held only three things, a driver’s license belonging to his grandfather and two pictures. One was of a lovely woman, obviously taken many years ago. The other was of two men, one he instantly recognized as his father. He presumed the other was Crispin. He extracted the license and the picture with his father, leaving the woman’s, before giving the wallet back to his grandfather.

The address on the license was not local but in St. Cloud, a town he knew wasn’t too far away. He also had the idea it was not where his grandfather lived now. “We should get you back, before it rains,” he said again. “Do you know where to go?” As he talked he led Gerard toward the front gate of the cemetery.

The old man seemed baffled by the question. “I…somewhere…”

As they reached the gate a car pulled to a stop in front of them. A man jumped out, coming around onto the sidewalk. “There you are Mr. Hill. We were worried about you,” he said gently. He looked at Declan. “Was he at the grave again?”

“That’s where I met him. He seemed confused and lost. I was going to take him across the street to that restaurant,” he pointed, “and then call the police.”

“Thank you,” the man replied as he took hold of Gerard’s arm. “I don’t know how he managed to wander away. We’ve been looking for him and then I remembered he sometimes comes here because his son was buried here.”

“What’s wrong with him? Alzheimer’s?”

“Unfortunately, yes.” He turned his attention to Gerard, guiding him to the car and opening the door to let him in. “Thank you again,” he said to Declan before he walked back around the car. He got in, made a U-turn and drove off, but not before Declan saw the name of the nursing home on the driver’s side door.

It would probably be a waste of time to visit him there, but maybe, just maybe going to where he used to live will give me more information about father.

With that thought in mind he returned to his small apartment.