Forgive Me(55)

Walt and Gabe were products of a different era, when a room full of computers wasn’t nearly as powerful as the phone in Angie’s purse, and a fax machine was something of a novelty. Her father had always worked in finance, a little staid compared to Walt’s distinguished career in law enforcement. When they could speak in private, Angie would tell Walt all about the two thugs she took down and show him the bullet hole in her car. He would get a kick out of the story. It would be the opposite of her dad’s reaction.

Angie and Walt frequently talked guns, police techniques, and law enforcement trends when they got the chance. He had begun his career with the Washington PD, but found his true calling when he’d joined the U.S. Marshals. He’d been with the Marshals Service for thirty years, accruing plenty of commendations and accolades along the way. He was also a wellspring of stories.

Angie enjoyed her long chats with Walt on the back deck, drinking beer and talking shop. He spoke of his marshal days with reverence. She wondered if one day she would look back on her time with DeRose and Associates with the same misty-eyed recollection. Having built the agency from the ground up, she held every expectation she would.

With his marshal days long behind him, Walt enjoyed traveling and spoiling his five grandkids. It wasn’t uncommon for him to take off on lengthy solo adventures, or for him and Louise to be gone months at a time. Sometimes, Angie’s parents had gone with them, but her dad wasn’t big on traveling. Instead, he and Walt went on local fishing trips together or blew off steam at the gun range.

Her father owned several firearms that he kept in a gun safe in the basement. As a young girl, Angie found the unfinished basement creepy, and never went down there alone. Her parents used it for storage, though her father kept an elliptical machine down there he used on occasion. Hopefully, he would start using the elipical more.

“So any idea who this girl might be?” Walt asked.

“No idea at all,” Angie said. “But I’ve got my guy Bao working on it. He’s trying to figure out the code on the back.”

Walt turned the image of the young girl over and read it for himself. He gave a few head scratches as if to say Bao had his work cut out for him, and handed both pictures back to Angie. “Well, if there’s anything I can do to help, you let me know.”

“Will do. I have to get back on the Nadine case soon. I think we’re close. This may have to wait.”

Gabriel coughed to get attention. “What do you mean by soon? I’m in need of some help here, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“Dad, you are not in a nursing home and you’re not even that sick. You just need to take better care of yourself, that’s all.”

“What about the Nats games? I have tickets for tomorrow night. I wanted to take you.”

“I’ve got to get back to Baltimore,” Angie said.

“I’ll go with you,” Madeline said.

“Hey, you didn’t give me a chance,” Walt said, grinning.

Gabe took a look at Madeline. “Yeah, maybe next time, Walt.”

The next several hours, the four sat in the TV room and watched the Nats dismantle the Cubs. Well, Madeline, Gabriel, and Walt watched the game. Angie was busy going over e-mail, answering voice messages, and making sure the agency and her farmed-out cases continued to run smoothly. She touched base with Bao only to learn he had made more progress with his skateboard tricks than her mom’s mysterious code, but it wasn’t for lack of trying.

She also got in touch with Mike Webb, who was at a bar a few blocks from Angie’s Alley, as he called it.

“Any luck getting inside that apartment building?”

“I haven’t seen Hat Man or Casper the Hefty Ghost since you went all ninja on them,” Mike said.

“Well, are you looking?”

“I’m at a bar. Of course I’m looking.”

“For the men, Mike. Not a hookup.”

“Oh. Well, I’m looking for them, too. I’m blending here. I’m being seen, so when I make the approach, I’ll be a known entity, not some stranger who could be a cop.”

“Right. What’s your cover? That’s a pretty crappy part of town to just hang out in.”

“Restaurant consultant. And it’s not that bad here. There’s a couple good places to eat. A chicken joint and some gyro thing. And I got a nice hotel.”

“How nice, Mike?”

“Nice.”

“Mike.”

“I’m away from kids, Ange.”

“Okay, okay. Just make it nice-ish, all right?”

“Yeah, yeah. How’s your pop holding up?”

“Better, thanks. Call when you got something. And Mike, thanks for being there for me. I owe you.”

Walt left during the seventh inning stretch, but Madeline made it all the way to the ninth. “We’re still on for next week, right?”

Angie slapped her own forehead. “Sarah’s mom.”

“Every year. She looks forward to our visit.”

“I’ll be there, of course,” Angie said as she gave Madeline a hug. And Sarah won’t, because Sarah’s dead. Sarah’s body has decomposed down to the bones. Angie kept her thoughts private, but Madeline would have agreed.

When the house was finally quiet, her father snoring softly in his chair, the e-mail queue down to something respectable, the phone calls answered, the work fires all put out, Angie got into her pajamas and read a magazine in her old bedroom, but not on her old bed. The home had been renested after Angie left for college, the furniture changed long ago, and all echoes of her childhood subsequently silenced. All echoes except for the one made by a little girl Angie didn’t know, who had some connection to her and to her mother.