And it wasn’t urgent. The more Angie thought about it, the more she understood the FBI’s lack of response. Markovich didn’t disappear to go hunting after one of his sixteen-year-old victims.
He had vanished to get away for good.
The next evening, Madeline Hartsock leaned her thin frame against the doorway to Angie’s office and cleared her throat to get her friend’s attention.
Angie peered out from behind a computer monitor, held up a finger— just a moment. The movie, a new action flick starring the ever-youthful Tom Cruise, was starting in thirty minutes and Maddy’s impatient expression made it clear they were going to be late if Angie didn’t stop what she was doing right then.
Angie wasn’t in the mood for a movie, and regretted accepting Maddy’s invitation. She was reeling from a triple-whammy of disappointing news. Ivan Markovich was still missing and actively being sought by the U.S. Marshals along with other law enforcement types. Bryce’s contact at the Marshals Service was in the dark about what had happened to the Contis, and had no clue who they might have become after they went into witness protection. And most discouraging of all was her father’s failure to react to the name Antonio Conti. Her mother was connected to the mobster, and Angie felt certain he and her father had traveled in the same circles at some point. Frustrating. Angie had finally identified the girl in the photograph, and it didn’t make a lick of difference.
Madeline glanced at her phone for the third time in a minute. “Angie, come on. Take a break, will you?”
Mike Webb appeared in the doorway behind Madeline. His sudden arrival was unannounced and unexpected. He wore gym shorts and a sweat-stained gray jersey. A blue sweatband was stretched across his head. “Mind if I use the can?”
His voice startled Maddy and caused her to jump a little. She moved aside to let Mike into the office.
“You came here just to go to the bathroom?” Angie tried to minimize the degree of her eye roll.
“I was playing pickup hoops down the street and I didn’t think I could make it home, if you know what I mean.”
“TMI, Mike,” Angie said, motioning toward the bathroom door. “TMI.”
Mike dashed into the bathroom and emerged moments later with a smile on his face.
“Better?” Angie asked.
“Much. Sorry. I didn’t think anybody would be here at this hour.”
“We’re not supposed to be here,” Madeline said with obvious disappointment. “We’re supposed to be at the movies, and now I think I’m going to go by myself unless you can help unglue Miss DeRose from her computer.”
“Conti?” Mike asked, knowing how overwhelming her obsessions could be.
“Yeah, Conti,” Angie said.
“Maddy’s right, Ange,” Mike said. “Take a break. Go see a movie. Isabella isn’t in any immediate danger, if you know what I’m saying.”
“You think she’s dead.”
“If you believe the code Bao broke, then yes. She’s dead.”
“But it’s also the same date they were supposed to go into witness protection.”
“A metaphorical death is still a death,” Mike said.
Maddy sighed. “Ange, remember how much fun we had in New York? Just take a breather from it all. You’ll get the answers later.”
New York . . .
Maddy’s reference brought Angie back to their recent visit with Jean Winter. Something Jean said had been simmering in Angie’s subconscious ever since. It seemed inconsequential at the time, but now Angie wasn’t so sure.
Life is too short for petty differences.
Those were Jean’s words, and it was also, Angie believed, a possible answer. She cringed because it was so damn obvious.
“Maddy, I’m sorry. I’m going to have to skip the movie. I’ll pay for my ticket.”
At the same time, Mike nonchalantly opened the top drawer of a three-drawer file cabinet and fished out a Snickers bar from one of the file folders within. He used his teeth to pry open the wrapper.
Angie frowned. “You store candy in my file drawer?”
“I thought you knew. I file it under S, for Snickers.”
“I’ve been looking under C, for candy,” Angie said with an edge.
“Come on, Angie,” Maddy said. “Please go. I’m dying to see this movie.”
“Say, I might go,” Mike said. “What’s the movie?”
“The new Tom Cruise.”
“Oh yeah? Hmmmm . . .” Mike took a bite of his candy bar and chewed it slowly.
Angie didn’t answer Maddy. She was too busy looking through another set of files in the cabinet compartment of her desk. She had one of her mother’s death certificates in there someplace. She was sure of it.
“Hello,” Maddy said. “Earth to Angie. Come in, Angie. What are you doing?”
“All these years I’ve respected my mother’s wishes about her family,” Angie said. “I never asked to speak with them. I had nothing to do with them. But Jean is right. Life is too short for petty differences.”
Mike suddenly got interested. “You’re going to contact your mom’s family?”
“Yes,” Angie said. “And I’m going to ask them about Isabella and Antonio Conti.”