David. Apparently, you’re so
used to wearing that ankle monitor these days that you’ve forgotten
it’s there.”
I had. “So when you asked me…?”
“I wanted you to tell me. I told
you. I’m done digging for the truth. Either you trust
me, or you don’t. I’m kinda thrilled right now, because it
sort of seems like you finally get it.”
“I do,” I said. “And I’m glad.”
“Do you want to know what else David said to
me?”
“I’d like to know why you seemed reluctant
to share the video from Attica with him at all. It was more
than who Thomas Peterson really was, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Johnny said. “Although now, my
concerns seem unfounded.”
Panic rose into the back of my throat like
bile. “He already knows it was me, doesn’t he?”
Johnny shook his head. “No, he thinks
it was really Thomas Peterson, though they can’t figure out who he
is now. Seems that the name popped up on one of Wendell’s old
cases, a little boy who allegedly died in a car crash with his
abusive, alcoholic father.”
“Oh, well, that makes sense, I suppose.”
“Helen, did your father save that little boy
when you were a child? Did he find a better home for
him?”
I nodded. “It wasn’t a random name I
chose. I had to use one that I knew Dad would recognize, a
person that he’d be too curious about to refuse seeing.”
Johnny chuckled. “Well, fortunately
for you, David thinks it probably was the boy tracking down the man
who gave him a better life. He’s concerned about this Special
Agent Noah, however, and with good reason.”
“Clearly. He wasn’t with the FBI.”
“Think we ought to try to call Wendell
again? It occurred to me that he might’ve been less than
forthcoming, especially if he knew the identity of the man who came
to see him.”
“He didn’t lie to me.”
Manipulate, perhaps, but I doubted that Dad
lied to me when we last spoke. On the contrary, I was more
concerned that he’d told the truth, that his interest in Lyle
Henderson meant that another potential person of interest in the
human trafficking case was about to meet an untimely demise.
“Did you hear me?”
“No,” I admitted.
“You’re worried that he isn’t answering his
phone.”
“Terrified if you want the truth.
Dad’s interest in his former father in law has me concerned.”
“Don’t think that the idea hasn’t crossed my
mind too, Helen. I’d put the geriatric bastard down myself if
I found out he’s the one who threatened you and our sons.”
I knew Johnny only meant that in a vague,
heat of the moment sort of way. Still, it seemed ironic that
the man I eventually loved would have such a similar sense of
justice to my father’s.
“Our sons need their father,” I said.
“And their mother is suddenly famished again.”
“Blueberry pancakes?”
I grinned. “I’ve got a wicked craving
for baked macaroni and cheese. I don’t suppose it’s one of
the things you don’t think you cook well, is it?”
Johnny laughed and shook his head.
“Bachelors are required to know how to make mac-n-cheese,
sweetheart. It’s an unwritten law.”
“You’re not a bachelor anymore.”
“Yet thank God I was one for so long or we’d
both starve to death. Or live off of rack of lamb, pot roast
and cheese cake.”
While Johnny puttered around the kitchen, I
dialed Dad’s international phone number again and wondered what
happened that made him need more money all of a sudden. Was
he moving to a different country? On his way back here to
make sure Henderson didn’t hurt me again? Doing something
else he shouldn’t be doing?
I feared that I unleashed a monster on an
unwitting world.
Chapter 8
The screen in the confessional slid
open. “Bless me Father for I have sinned. It’s been
thirty-seven years since my last confession.”
He supposed that was a bad thing, foregoing
this ridiculous
used to wearing that ankle monitor these days that you’ve forgotten
it’s there.”
I had. “So when you asked me…?”
“I wanted you to tell me. I told
you. I’m done digging for the truth. Either you trust
me, or you don’t. I’m kinda thrilled right now, because it
sort of seems like you finally get it.”
“I do,” I said. “And I’m glad.”
“Do you want to know what else David said to
me?”
“I’d like to know why you seemed reluctant
to share the video from Attica with him at all. It was more
than who Thomas Peterson really was, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Johnny said. “Although now, my
concerns seem unfounded.”
Panic rose into the back of my throat like
bile. “He already knows it was me, doesn’t he?”
Johnny shook his head. “No, he thinks
it was really Thomas Peterson, though they can’t figure out who he
is now. Seems that the name popped up on one of Wendell’s old
cases, a little boy who allegedly died in a car crash with his
abusive, alcoholic father.”
“Oh, well, that makes sense, I suppose.”
“Helen, did your father save that little boy
when you were a child? Did he find a better home for
him?”
I nodded. “It wasn’t a random name I
chose. I had to use one that I knew Dad would recognize, a
person that he’d be too curious about to refuse seeing.”
Johnny chuckled. “Well, fortunately
for you, David thinks it probably was the boy tracking down the man
who gave him a better life. He’s concerned about this Special
Agent Noah, however, and with good reason.”
“Clearly. He wasn’t with the FBI.”
“Think we ought to try to call Wendell
again? It occurred to me that he might’ve been less than
forthcoming, especially if he knew the identity of the man who came
to see him.”
“He didn’t lie to me.”
Manipulate, perhaps, but I doubted that Dad
lied to me when we last spoke. On the contrary, I was more
concerned that he’d told the truth, that his interest in Lyle
Henderson meant that another potential person of interest in the
human trafficking case was about to meet an untimely demise.
“Did you hear me?”
“No,” I admitted.
“You’re worried that he isn’t answering his
phone.”
“Terrified if you want the truth.
Dad’s interest in his former father in law has me concerned.”
“Don’t think that the idea hasn’t crossed my
mind too, Helen. I’d put the geriatric bastard down myself if
I found out he’s the one who threatened you and our sons.”
I knew Johnny only meant that in a vague,
heat of the moment sort of way. Still, it seemed ironic that
the man I eventually loved would have such a similar sense of
justice to my father’s.
“Our sons need their father,” I said.
“And their mother is suddenly famished again.”
“Blueberry pancakes?”
I grinned. “I’ve got a wicked craving
for baked macaroni and cheese. I don’t suppose it’s one of
the things you don’t think you cook well, is it?”
Johnny laughed and shook his head.
“Bachelors are required to know how to make mac-n-cheese,
sweetheart. It’s an unwritten law.”
“You’re not a bachelor anymore.”
“Yet thank God I was one for so long or we’d
both starve to death. Or live off of rack of lamb, pot roast
and cheese cake.”
While Johnny puttered around the kitchen, I
dialed Dad’s international phone number again and wondered what
happened that made him need more money all of a sudden. Was
he moving to a different country? On his way back here to
make sure Henderson didn’t hurt me again? Doing something
else he shouldn’t be doing?
I feared that I unleashed a monster on an
unwitting world.
Chapter 8
The screen in the confessional slid
open. “Bless me Father for I have sinned. It’s been
thirty-seven years since my last confession.”
He supposed that was a bad thing, foregoing
this ridiculous
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