Barry stared at the message for what felt like an eternity. His biological father had been dead for twenty years. Barry had attended the funeral himself. He had watched the casket being lowered into the ground. He had grieved for a man he barely knew, a man who had abandoned his family when Barry was five years old.
But now his father was sending him messages. His father was alive. His father was calling him son.
"Stop the vehicle," Barry said to the driver. "I need to make a phone call."
"That's not advisable," the driver said. "Your location needs to stay secure."
"Stop the vehicle," Barry repeated, this time with more authority. "Now."
The driver pulled over at a rest stop. Barry got out of the vehicle, walked to a payphone in the rest stop bathroom, and dialed the number from memo
