Forgive Me(111)

Forgiveness.

Angie forgave her parents while she mourned for them and for the little girl with the sad smile and misshapen ear. A girl whose fate very well could have been Angie’s were it not for the terrible choice her parents had made.

Mike Webb and Bao each gave Angie a gentle hug—she’d been shot, and they were careful. For the occasion, Mike wore a semi-wrinkled beige suit, and Bao had on a long-sleeved Oxford shirt buttoned to the top, crisp looking dark jeans, and his best Doc Martens. They each expressed their sincere condolences, but the conversation wasn’t all about matters of life and death.

“You think you can come back to work next week?” Mike asked. “I got a big rental gig to prep for and we’re really swamped. I mean, I know it’s a horrible thing what happened to you and all, but honestly Ange, the publicity has been incredible for business.”

It hurt to laugh—if the bullet in her side had gone a few millimeters to the right, she’d be dead—but Angie let go a little one anyway.

Maddy, who was nearby, said, “Hey, Mike, let the girl heal and farm out the jobs you can’t handle for now.”

“Maybe we should hire a new full-time associate.” Bao had made the suggestion on other occasions, but thought this time it might carry a bit more weight.

Angie said, “Guys, let me say good-bye to my father. Okay? We’ll talk shop later.”

Maddy gave Mike and Bao a look that said I told you so, and the three took seats in the fourth row, directly behind Carolyn, Greg, and Nadine Jessup, who had come as a family to offer their condolences.

Bryce showed up in a sharp-looking suit minutes before the service was scheduled to begin. His wounds were more severe than Angie’s, and he had spent the better part of a week recovering in the hospital. He walked slowly. Like Angie, he would carry the scars of that day around with him forever.

He made his way to the front of the room where he pulled Angie aside. “I’ve got some new news.”

She felt a jolt of excitement. A lot had happened in the two weeks since her father’s cremation, not much of it good for the U.S. Marshals. Walter Odette turned out to be a very rich man. Those long vacations he took didn’t even put a dent in all the money he’d made hiding people who could pay for his brand of witness protection. He had hid his wealth from Louise, so as to not attract attention, but in reality he lived a double life. His long fishing trips and other excursions were really lavish solo vacations—not exactly with the jet set, but skirting close.

Walt must have grown attached to his money, and for whatever reason he couldn’t stop doing what he’d started years ago when he was a young marshal handling witness protection. When it came time for him to retire, he’d transitioned his operation to another marshal named Raynor Sinclair, who worked in witness protection and had access to the files they needed to manipulate. Questions were raised about a hunting accident that might not have been an accident. Maybe Walter learned a few things about Raynor Sinclair and knew he was a good pick to take over the operation and rake in profits from murder.

It would take time and a lot of effort to figure out everyone Walter Odette and Raynor Sinclair had helped to hide by killing those the government had sought to protect. Their special clientele weren’t people turning state’s witness, but rather criminals who wanted or needed to disappear and had the means to pay. The transactions were a death sentence for those slated to go into the program. A little bit of manipulation of paperwork and files, and two sets of people disappeared—those in the program legitimately, murdered by Sinclair and Odette, and those who paid to take over the victims’ government-manufactured identities. Others had been involved, and others paid off, but Odette was the mastermind and Sinclair his pro-tégé.

Text messages between them drew a picture that clarified the last moments of Gabriel DeRose’s life. Walter, panicked that Gabe was going to tell Angie the truth, ordered Raynor to make the hit. That took place while Angie was at Walter’s, when she thought he was looking through his files. As best she could guess, Walter had come to the house planning to kill Raynor and the whole program would have gone dark. He may have heard what Raynor planned to do to Angie, and didn’t want her to suffer. But when the time came, Walter couldn’t bring himself to pull the trigger.

“Walter faked a lot of things,” Angie had said to Bryce. “But his love for me wasn’t one of them.”

Her father had substantial assets, more than Angie realized. The money could have come from his past life, when he stole from the mob. Walter probably hadn’t taken it all, just a cut. Angie had plans for the money. All of it, every last penny, would go to the Microtia-Congenital Ear Deformity Center in Burbank, California. Dot, the center’s receptionist, would be shocked by the note that would accompany the gift.

Angie glanced toward the back of the room. The head of the funeral home was trying to take his cue from her when to begin. She held up a finger to ask him to wait a minute. He obliged with a nod.

“So what’s this big news you have to share?” Angie asked Bryce.

He leaned in close, took hold of Angie’s right hand, and put his lips to her ear. It wasn’t the first time his lips were in that spot, and it wouldn’t be the last. “They arrested Albert Tuttle.”

Angie whispered back, “That’s great. Who the heck is Albert Tuttle?”