She felt a jolt of excitement. A lot had happened in the two weeks since her father’s cremation, not much of it good for the U.S. Marshals. Walter Odette turned out to be a very rich man. Those long vacations he took didn’t even put a dent in all the money he’d made hiding people who could pay for his brand of witness protection. He had hid his wealth from Louise, so as to not attract attention, but in reality he lived a double life. His long fishing trips and other excursions were really lavish solo vacations—not exactly with the jet set, but skirting close.
Walt must have grown attached to his money, and for whatever reason he couldn’t stop doing what he’d started years ago when he was a young marshal handling witness protection. When it came time for him to retire, he’d transitioned his operation to another marshal named Raynor Sinclair, who worked in witness protection and had access to the files they needed to manipulate. Questions were raised about a hunting accident that might not have been an accident. Maybe Walter learned a few things about Raynor Sinclair and knew he was a good pick to take over the operation and rake in profits from murder.
It would take time and a lot of effort to figure out everyone Walter Odette and Raynor Sinclair had helped to hide by killing those the government had sought to protect. Their special clientele weren’t people turning state’s witness, but rather criminals who wanted or needed to disappear and had the means to pay. The transactions were a death sentence for those slated to go into the program. A little bit of manipulation of paperwork and files, and two sets of people disappeared—those in the program legitimately, murdered by Sinclair and Odette, and those who paid to take over the victims’ government-manufactured identities. Others had been involved, and others paid off, but Odette was the mastermind and Sinclair his pro-tégé.
Text messages between them drew a picture that clarified the last moments of Gabriel DeRose’s life. Walter, panicked that Gabe was going to tell Angie the truth, ordered Raynor to make the hit. That took place while Angie was at Walter’s, when she thought he was looking through his files. As best she could guess, Walter had come to the house planning to kill Raynor and the whole program would have gone dark. He may have heard what Raynor planned to do to Angie, and didn’t want her to suffer. But when the time came, Walter couldn’t bring himself to pull the trigger.
“Walter faked a lot of things,” Angie had said to Bryce. “But his love for me wasn’t one of them.”
Her father had substantial assets, more than Angie realized. The money could have come from his past life, when he stole from the mob. Walter probably hadn’t taken it all, just a cut. Angie had plans for the money. All of it, every last penny, would go to the Microtia-Congenital Ear Deformity Center in Burbank, California. Dot, the center’s receptionist, would be shocked by the note that would accompany the gift.
Angie glanced toward the back of the room. The head of the funeral home was trying to take his cue from her when to begin. She held up a finger to ask him to wait a minute. He obliged with a nod.
“So what’s this big news you have to share?” Angie asked Bryce.
He leaned in close, took hold of Angie’s right hand, and put his lips to her ear. It wasn’t the first time his lips were in that spot, and it wouldn’t be the last. “They arrested Albert Tuttle.”
Angie whispered back, “That’s great. Who the heck is Albert Tuttle?”
Bryce pulled away and smiled. “Well, he was supposed to be Dante Lerardi, but Dante was murdered—and guess who took over his persona?”
Angie broke into a smile. “Ivan Stinger Markovich.”
“The one and only. Back where he belongs, in jail,” Bryce said.
“Hot damn. That is great news. I’m so excited to tell Nadine. But I’ll wait until after.”
“Speaking of after, I could use a little nursing, if you know what I mean?”
Angie kissed Bryce tenderly on the cheek. “That’ll have to be later. Nadine asked me to go out with her. She has someplace she wants to take me.”
“Where to?” Bryce asked.
Angie shrugged. “She won’t tell me. She just said she needs my help with something.”
CHAPTER 61
Why did I do it? Why did I make this my life’s mission? I guess I saw too many families like Sarah Winter’s out there, too many people left wondering if their kid was alive or dead. I didn’t want Jade to be like Sarah—a picture hanging on a wall in limbo. Somebody loved Jade, somebody missed her, and I believed somebody wanted her to come home.
I probably should have come clean with Angie from the start, just told her what I wanted her to do, but I was afraid she’d say no. I figured if I took her, and she could see Jade, it would make her think about her friend Sarah, and she’d agree to help even if I couldn’t pay.