Forgive Me(88)

Bryce got the same, explaining, “I had coffee the last time I was with you.”

Angie looked surprised, and found it interesting he remembered such a minor detail. “Yeah, it’s good to change it up.” She didn’t know what else to say.

They took everything back to the table along with an assortment of napkins, forks, and knives.

“So how’s Nadine?” Bryce was sweet to ask, though Angie wanted to dive right in to the meat of their meeting.

She tempered her desire. “Good, I think. We met at my office once, but I haven’t really spoken to her since. I think she’s adjusting. I think about her all the time, to be honest. What about the girls?”

“I don’t really know,” Bryce admitted. “I can barely keep track of all the numbskulls we have to track down. But I like I said, I think they’ll all be treated fairly.”

Angie took a bite of her pie and savored the taste.

Bryce did the same. “Wow, you weren’t kidding about this place.”

“Worth the hour drive?”

“Hour and twenty with traffic,” he corrected while chewing. “And yes, well worth it. Tell me about your dad. Is he feeling better?”

The question made Angie light up inside. “Yes, and thanks for asking,” she said. “Though I’ve had a hard time not telling him about Antonio Conti.”

“That’s understandable. I think it was the right call to wait and see what I could dig up before you dropped that bombshell on him.”

Angie’s nerves rattled. She sensed the moment was at hand. What had Bryce learned? Why did he feel so compelled to share the news in person? She was good at waiting for something to happen while on stakeout, but this type of anticipation felt foreign to her.

“God, I hope my mom didn’t have an affair. Did she have an affair? Oh crap, I don’t think I want to know.” Angie paused a beat. “I want to know. Did she?”

“I don’t know,” Bryce said, “and I’m not trying to be cagey or cute here. I really have no clue.”

“What do you mean?”

“Listen, my job is fugitive apprehension. I’m not a witness protection specialist. Those files are safeguarded really closely, and it’s not an all-access type of thing.”

Angie deflated. She’d held such high hopes for this encounter.

“But I have some friends who owe me some favors,” Bryce continued, “and they agreed to look for me. My contact volunteered to give them a message from you. Obviously, he couldn’t give you Conti’s new four-one-one, because their new identities are a secret.”

Angie set down her fork and locked her gaze on Bryce. Her heart bubbled in her throat as her skin heated up. A thin coat of sweat crept along the back of her neck. “And? Is Isabella alive?”

Bryce let go a heavy sigh. “I don’t know.”

Angie’s temples were pounding. She took out the picture of Isabella and put it on the table in front of him. She flipped the picture over so that he could see the code on the back. “We think this code means the date Isabella was born and the date she died, March fourth, nineteen eighty-eight.”

“I can’t tell you if she’s alive or dead.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Can’t.”

“Are they in witness protection or not?”

“Sort of are,” Bryce said.

“Sort of?” Angie’s thoughts jumbled, trying to guess how someone could sort of be in witness protection. Nothing made sense. If they had her in the program, then they should know her status, and the status of her parents.

“Conti and his family are in the system,” Bryce said. “They exist. There’s a record of their approval from the Chief of Witness Security and the Special Operations Unit of the OEO.”

“OEO? What’s that?”

“Office of Enforcement Operations at the Department of Justice. They handle the approvals. We, meaning the U.S. Marshals, can’t just put people into the program. That’s for the higher-ups to handle.”

“So Conti and his family went in?”

“Yes. Once they’re in, they’re in. Then it’s the job of a U.S. marshal inspector to set up the new identity, handle communications, monitor telephone calls and such. The OEO is pretty much out of it at that point.”

“Once you’re approved, the government oversight is a lot less, is that what you’re saying?” The picture Angie had formed in her mind was still rather fuzzy.

“Yeah, in part. Witnesses in the protection program go through rigorous psychological testing. It’s a hard life, and not everyone is suited to the task. All this is predicated on a U.S. attorney sponsoring the request, and that only happens if the witness’s testimony is deemed to be of real value.

“If it is, the witness is subjected to a battery of polygraphs, medical exams, and such. Applications are submitted and if approved the USMS takes over. We provide reasonable help getting the witness a job, finding them suitable housing, providing all the identity documents for family members, that sort of thing. The area of relocation is known only to the USMS. Even the case attorney doesn’t know where they go.”

“So who protects them? You?”

“Honestly, witness protection is a bit of misnomer. We don’t provide around-the-clock protection services. It’s more like witnesses are moved to a safer location and given new identities to help them live new lives. Their identities are government manufactured and as authentic as can be—new name, driver’s license, and social security number. It’s highly effective, but also isolating. The attorneys make it as clear as possible what a witness and the family should expect after going into the program. From what I understand, they do a good job painting a pretty bleak picture.”