“Yeah, fine. Thanks.”
“Walt’s down in his workshop,” Louise said, tightening the tie of her robe as she led Angie into a spacious kitchen, the heart of most any home. “Do you want some coffee?” She glanced at the kitchen clock and noticed the time. “Oh goodness me, you probably want lunch. We’re not always this slow getting started, dear.”
“I’m just going to have water.” Angie helped herself to a glass. She knew where everything was.
“I’ll go grab Walt.”
Moments later, Angie and Walt were seated across from each other at the round kitchen table.
“Talk to me, Angie,” Walt said.
She glanced out the window and made sure Louise was still in her garden, watering plants in her bathrobe. Angie wasn’t sure if Louise was in on the secret.
“I know,” Angie began. “About my mom and dad . . . and me. About our being in witness Protection all these years.”
Walt didn’t look as shocked or surprised as she had expected. “Did your dad tell you or did you somehow figure it out on your own?”
“My dad,” Angie said.
Walt returned a grim nod. “You must be in a state of shock. Look, I’m sorry, kiddo. Keeping the secret wasn’t easy, but it was the job. I hope you understand.”
“I do, and I don’t blame you. Honest I don’t.”
Walt gave Angie’s hand a squeeze. “Thanks. That’s a huge relief. You know I love you and I’d never do anything to hurt you.”
“I know. But I’m confused about something.”
“I imagine you’re confused about a lot.”
“There’s really nothing about William Harrington and his Ponzi scheme in any of the archives I’ve searched. Nothing I could find about my dad turning state’s evidence, either.”
Birdsong filtered in through the open kitchen windows and the aroma of Louise’s fresh brewed coffee tickled Angie’s senses.
Walt cleared his throat and pursed his lips. “I don’t know anything about that. My job was to help get your dad a new life, and that’s what I did. We were close in age back then, and well, we just became friends. It was the only time in my career with the Marshals that ever happened to me. I really liked your dad and I empathized with his situation. You were too young to remember anything from that time. It was very tense, very scary for your parents, but I assured them it would get better with time and it did. They built new lives as new people, and we’ve been close ever since. I’m afraid there’s not much more to the story than that.”
Angie leaned forward. “But there is, Walt. How is my mom connected to Isabella Conti?”
“Who?”
Angie took the picture out from her purse and explained all she’d learned about the Contis and what she had shared with her father.
“My dad stole from the Mob and Conti was in the Mob, and somehow this girl is connected to my mother.”
“And what did your dad say?” Walt asked.
“He says he doesn’t know anything. Doesn’t know the girl or how my mom knew her or why she would write forgive me on the back of the photograph.”
Walt made a hmm sound—it was curious to him, got him thinking. “What can I do, Angie?” He sounded earnest.
“What do you remember from that time? About my dad’s business dealings. There’s something there.”
“Why don’t you ask your dad?”
Angie looked again out the window and saw Louise bent over her nascent flower garden weeding without gloves on. The garden wasn’t much to look at now, but it would be glorious in a few more weeks. Louise was quite gifted with plants.
Angie looked back at Walt. “I guess I was hoping you could tell me.” For whatever reason it felt better than saying, “I don’t trust my dad to tell me the truth.”
“Tell you why there wasn’t a trial?”
“It seems to me my dad got a free pass into witness protection. He committed crimes and got away with it.”
“Hardly got away scot-free,” Walt said. “He had to give up his entire life, his family, your mom’s family. It was hardly an easy road.”
Angie couldn’t disagree there. “Okay. And just to reiterate, I don’t hold any of this against you. You were just doing your job.”
“And just to reiterate, I think of you as a niece,” Walt said. “You’re family to me. That’s what’s important. Not a name on a piece of paper.”
Angie thanked him, and didn’t mention that Bao had told her something similar. She got up from the table. “Well, wish me luck, Uncle Walt.”
“Luck with what?”
“I’m going to take your advice and confront my dad again. And this time I’m not going to leave until he tells me the truth once and for all. I’m going to make him go through all of his business dealings until I know everything about his past, and figure out how my mom was connected to Isabella Conti.”