“You?”
“Numb,” Walter said, his voice warm but a bit more gravelly, a bit tired.
“Yeah, me too.”
“Louise has been crying her eyes out for days. She can’t believe your mom is gone.”
Angie looked across the room and saw Walter’s wife of forty years at the buffet table talking with a group of Kathleen’s friends. Over the years, they had become Louise’s friends as well. They all sort of looked alike—women in their sixties, early seventies, put together, hair kept short but styled, bodies kept in decent shape by frequent visits to the health club, friendships maintained through book, movie, and bridge clubs, as well as various charitable endeavors.
“I haven’t been able to get over to her,” Angie said. “I actually haven’t left this spot.”
“I know you’ve heard it a million times,” Walter said, looking Angie in the eyes. “But if there’s anything I can do to help, don’t hesitate to ask. I’m here for you.”
“You always have been, Uncle Walt.”
They hugged as a familiar voice spoke. “Any room for me in there?”
Angie’s face lit up. She broke from Walter’s warm embrace to give her good friend Madeline a hug.
“Hey! I’ve been looking for you,” Angie said, her smile genuine and bigger than any she had made all day. Tears stung her eyes. She hadn’t realized the importance of having her friends there until they began to arrive. Paying their respects were a dozen or so people from various facets of her life—some she knew from high school, others from college, a few from the PI biz.
Of all who had come, none was more important to Angie than her dear college friend, Madeline Hartsock.
Back in college, Sarah, Madeline, and Angie had been an inseparable trio—the Three Musketeers some had called them. When Sarah vanished, the tandem of Angie and Madeline led the search for their missing friend. They’d seemed to merge into one over the many months they hung posters, managed the website, fielded leads, and worked with law enforcement, all to no avail.
The experience altered the trajectory of their lives. Angie became friendly with a private investigator hired by Sarah’s mother. Angie searched relentlessly for Sarah. Her alertness and situational awareness impressed the investigator so much he offered her a job with his well-established firm, The Kessler Group, right out of college. “You have a mind for this work,” he’d told her, “and you don’t slack off. Stamina and a sharp eye, that’s what you need to be a PI.”
She worked five years for the firm, earning her masters degree in criminal justice at night. Her time with The Kessler Group gave her the confidence she could run an agency of her own. Her mentor not only agreed and supported her transition, but had made his own firm part of Angie’s & Associates network.
Madeline, who was pre-med at the time of Sarah’s disappearance, gave up medicine to become a sex crimes prosecutor in Washington, DC. She always believed Sarah had fallen into drugs and somehow got swept up in the sex trade, a theory that was never proven. Her research into human trafficking, however, opened her eyes to the prevalence of predators and she’d found her calling putting the bad guys behind bars.
“One of these days, I’m going to get the guy who took Sarah from us,” Madeline had said. Angie had vowed to be the one to bring her that prize.
“Madeline, you remember my Uncle Walt.”
“Of course.” Madeline hugged the man she didn’t really know. Funerals made for fast friends. “I’m sorry about your loss. I know you thought of Kathleen as a sister.”
“I did,” Walter said, his eyes misting. “The DeRoses are like family to me.”
Madeline, who was tall, thin, and naturally blond, looked nothing like Angie, but called her friend a sister from another mister. She understood Walter’s point completely.
“I was wondering if any of your mom’s family might have come to pay their respects,” Madeline
“Numb,” Walter said, his voice warm but a bit more gravelly, a bit tired.
“Yeah, me too.”
“Louise has been crying her eyes out for days. She can’t believe your mom is gone.”
Angie looked across the room and saw Walter’s wife of forty years at the buffet table talking with a group of Kathleen’s friends. Over the years, they had become Louise’s friends as well. They all sort of looked alike—women in their sixties, early seventies, put together, hair kept short but styled, bodies kept in decent shape by frequent visits to the health club, friendships maintained through book, movie, and bridge clubs, as well as various charitable endeavors.
“I haven’t been able to get over to her,” Angie said. “I actually haven’t left this spot.”
“I know you’ve heard it a million times,” Walter said, looking Angie in the eyes. “But if there’s anything I can do to help, don’t hesitate to ask. I’m here for you.”
“You always have been, Uncle Walt.”
They hugged as a familiar voice spoke. “Any room for me in there?”
Angie’s face lit up. She broke from Walter’s warm embrace to give her good friend Madeline a hug.
“Hey! I’ve been looking for you,” Angie said, her smile genuine and bigger than any she had made all day. Tears stung her eyes. She hadn’t realized the importance of having her friends there until they began to arrive. Paying their respects were a dozen or so people from various facets of her life—some she knew from high school, others from college, a few from the PI biz.
Of all who had come, none was more important to Angie than her dear college friend, Madeline Hartsock.
Back in college, Sarah, Madeline, and Angie had been an inseparable trio—the Three Musketeers some had called them. When Sarah vanished, the tandem of Angie and Madeline led the search for their missing friend. They’d seemed to merge into one over the many months they hung posters, managed the website, fielded leads, and worked with law enforcement, all to no avail.
The experience altered the trajectory of their lives. Angie became friendly with a private investigator hired by Sarah’s mother. Angie searched relentlessly for Sarah. Her alertness and situational awareness impressed the investigator so much he offered her a job with his well-established firm, The Kessler Group, right out of college. “You have a mind for this work,” he’d told her, “and you don’t slack off. Stamina and a sharp eye, that’s what you need to be a PI.”
She worked five years for the firm, earning her masters degree in criminal justice at night. Her time with The Kessler Group gave her the confidence she could run an agency of her own. Her mentor not only agreed and supported her transition, but had made his own firm part of Angie’s & Associates network.
Madeline, who was pre-med at the time of Sarah’s disappearance, gave up medicine to become a sex crimes prosecutor in Washington, DC. She always believed Sarah had fallen into drugs and somehow got swept up in the sex trade, a theory that was never proven. Her research into human trafficking, however, opened her eyes to the prevalence of predators and she’d found her calling putting the bad guys behind bars.
“One of these days, I’m going to get the guy who took Sarah from us,” Madeline had said. Angie had vowed to be the one to bring her that prize.
“Madeline, you remember my Uncle Walt.”
“Of course.” Madeline hugged the man she didn’t really know. Funerals made for fast friends. “I’m sorry about your loss. I know you thought of Kathleen as a sister.”
“I did,” Walter said, his eyes misting. “The DeRoses are like family to me.”
Madeline, who was tall, thin, and naturally blond, looked nothing like Angie, but called her friend a sister from another mister. She understood Walter’s point completely.
“I was wondering if any of your mom’s family might have come to pay their respects,” Madeline
Similar Books
