408 The Search (2/2)

"Part of the Bay Area." Noah mumbled. "But don't read too much into it. Maybe he doesn't want to admit being from the south."

Noah went to the third article. "Third time's the charm." He scrolled to an insert that mentions Jeremy Patterson growing up in the Bay Area with his uncle. Uncle? Uncle...

I shook my head. "Maybe I was projecting too much on this guy. He grew up with an uncle. I don't have any." I was wrong. I was just trying to see something when there wasn't anything to see.

Noah frowned, but didn't say anything. He just continued reading. Finally he backed out of that webpage and went back to the search bar. "Let's find out why he grew up with his uncle then." He added the word uncle and pushed 'search' again.

New article choices popped up.

Noah clicked on one from San Mateo. It was a special on Jeremy Patterson right before he was drafted.

[Jeremy Patterson, the future of baseball. He hits, he fields, and he can throw you out at home plate. The kid does it all and is preparing for the next step in his journey to become a professional baseball player: the MLB draft.]

Noah skimmed the article, scrolling until an interview portion.

[CC: You're not just a baseball star at school, correct?

JP: I participated in football as well. Just as a wide receiver.

CC: So you have no interest in pursuing a professional career in that sport?

JP: Nope. Baseball is it for me. It's in my blood.

CC: I've heard that not only your uncle played in the minors, but your dad as well?"

JP: Yes, they actually played together and were on the same team until my dad passed away.

CC: I'm sorry for your loss.

JP: It's okay. I think of my dad frequently when I'm on the field. We would play catch and he taught me a lot before his time was up. I'm happy with the time I got.

CC: That's a very positive outlook.]

It went on, but I loss interest. I sat back and slouched in my seat.

Noah noticed and pulled his eyes away from the screen. "What is it?"

"It's not him. He's not my brother." I couldn't tell if that made me happy or not.

"You don't know that yet." Noah pointed at the part where they talked about the dad passing away. "Look. Here."

"What? His dad passing away? How does that relate to me?"

"Jake." Noah stressed. "Think about it. What would be a good reason for the state being unable to find your father? Death! You can't find someone who is dead unless you know where to look."

I sat up a little, but was still skeptical. "Wouldn't he be slightly easier to find? Since he wouldn't be on the run or anything?"

"They don't have a last name, but we do." Noah tapped 'Patterson'.

"We don't have a first name though...Patterson is a common last name. I'm sure a lot of Patterson's die every day."

Noah grinned. "Yea, but how many played in the minors until they passed away?" Noah went back to Google search. He then typed, 'baseball minor leaguer Patterson death'.

The very first link was from the SoCal Register.

"Drunk Driver Kills Minor League Star"

As soon as the article opened, a picture of the victim appeared at the top. He looked more like my dad than Jeremy Patterson did. He...he's definitely the man I remember.

My eyes stung and my vision blurred, making it impossible for me to read the article. The picture and headline told me everything I needed to know anyways. My dad is dead.

"It happened about eleven years ago." Noah said in a low voice. "That's when you were three. You said before, the last time you saw him, you were little. Real little."

The tears started to fall. I didn't know what to do. I buried my face in my sweatshirt and cried. Cried for the things I couldn't have. Cried for being so angry at a dead man. Cried for myself and the painful childhood I had to survive without him.