Forgive Me(29)

When Bao said this, he was right.

“What did you get?”

“Well, I limited the words. Based on the poster and font size, I did some calculations and I didn’t think any word was greater than six letters. Also, I used only words that had DS and THS on the end. And I didn’t mix the DS and THS words because there would be too many combinations. So the first search was for one thousand, Alkyds, Poster, then ten thousand, Alkyds, Poster, and so on.”

“That sounds like nonsense to me.”

“It’s total nonsense. I was only looking at the first few rows of images for every number and word combo that got returned. It didn’t take too long. I sifted through a lot of nonsense until I ran a search for ten thousand, AIDS, Poster.”

Bao used his phone to run this exact search query. The results displayed a preview of the images, and he clicked on the first one. The image showed a black and white picture of a bald, middle-aged man. The words on the poster read 10,000 NEW YORK CITY AIDS DEATHS HOW’M I DOIN’?

Angie realized the words they couldn’t make out because they were too small and blurry in the photograph were the most important words of all.

“At first I didn’t know who the guy was,” Bao said, “but I figured it out easy enough. It’s a guy name Ed Koch.”

Angie knew the name. “He was the mayor of New York City.”

“Right on! And there’s a history to this poster. A group called Act Up made it to criticize Koch’s inaction in dealing with the AIDS epidemic. ‘How’m I doin?’ was his catchphrase. He used to ride the subways and greet people with that slogan. I looked that up, too. So the poster was meant to be ironic.”

“But now we know the city. It was New York. Nobody would hang a Mayor Koch poster in another city.”

“We know more than that. We know the exact year this picture was taken. The poster was made in 1988. It could have been plastered to that building for years, but it’s not all torn or faded, so I’m guessing it’s pretty new in this photograph. Who knows, right? But based on the photo paper, we know roughly when the image was taken. So photo paper plus the date the poster was made, and I can tell you with one hundred percent, Bao-certified certainty that this image was taken in New York City and the year was 1988.”

One of Bao’s outstanding talents was his ability to tackle a problem from angles others might ignore. Angie had seen him work his magic on a number of cases, and the police who used to chase him now often thanked him for his efforts. She should not have been surprised at Bao’s findings.

She gave him a big hug. “This must have been a lot of work.”

“You can send my girlfriend some flowers to thank her for letting me vanish for a while.”

“And I can thank you with some thank-you money. How many hours do I owe you?”

“Zero. Put this one on the house, Ange. You’ve done a lot for me. Least I can do this for you.”

“Not happening. I’m writing you a check.”

“When it’s over, how ’bout you buy me a board. Polar Skate came out with a new line that’d be totally gnarly. I’m stoked we got this far, but big questions remain.”

“Right. Like why does my mom have a picture of a little girl from 1988?”

“And why does she need forgiveness? Thinking out loud here. Did your mom and dad ever live in New York City?”

“No,” Angie said.

“Any relatives?”

“My dad grew up in a Michigan orphanage. It’s closed now. He went from foster home to foster home and ended up in California, where he met my mom. They moved from California to Virginia after the big blowout over my mom being unwed and pregnant, with me no less.”

“Like whoa on the guilt.”

“Like whoa, there were no stops made in New York.”

“Maybe a relative you didn’t know?”

“That she kept secret from my dad? I don’t think so. He saw the picture. I think he’d remember a little girl with a deformed ear. Makes no sense that my mom would hide that from him.”

“Well, maybe you should track down the family. Find out for yourself.”

Angie grimaced at the thought. “That would break my mother’s heart.”

“Not to be cold and all, but your mom is gone.”

Angie’s gaze went to the large jade plant resting on the mantel by the window. She had taken the plant from her parents’ home with a solemn vow to keep it alive, not an easy assignment given her work schedule. Angie had made arrangements with her neighbor to water the plant if necessary. It was her mother’s favorite plant. She had tended it with loving care like she did all the green things in the house. Angie felt an obligation to the plant, and in a way, it echoed the obligation she felt toward her mother’s history. Both had to be respected.

“My mom was adamant about having no contact with her family. Not ever. What they did to my father, what they said to her, was beyond awful. I can’t just go opening doors to the past because my mother’s not here to guard them. I respect her too much to do that.”

“Then you may never know.”

Angie gave this only a moment’s thought. “There are other ways of finding out.”

“Like?”

“I’ll go to NCMEC and get the girl aged using age progression technology. Then I’ll put the photo online. This girl would be in her thirties by now. Her friends would be on Facebook. Someone will recognize her and contact me. That way I honor my mother’s wishes and still get the answers I need. And you can get that skateboard.”