“How long?”
“Just my opinion, but I’d say Buggy gets twenty-five to thirty. Shooting at U.S. marshals isn’t a good idea. Casper and Ricardo, this wasn’t their first rodeo, so they’ve got the minimum fifteen coming their way. Now, Ivan Markovich is another matter entirely. Guy has no record. He’ll get bail of some sort, and then it’s a question of how many years they can pin on him. They’ll give him twenty and he’ll do fifteen. That’s my best guess.”
“Fifteen years for destroying all those lives.”
“Nadine’s still alive. It could be worse.”
Angie’s mind flashed on a picture of Sarah Winter. Was Sarah one of those worst-case scenarios? “Any chance Markovich gets off?”
“Not really,” Bryce said.
“Why’s that?”
“Because of Nadine.”
“What if she won’t testify?” Angie asked. “She did try to save Ricardo, after all.”
“She doesn’t have to testify. The FBI boys found her diary.”
CHAPTER 39
Angie drove Mike from her office to the Duke Street skate park, where Bao was waiting for them. The cloudless sky was the kind of cobalt blue that made the spring and summer months seem so darn short. It had been three days since the Nadine job had come to an end and Angie hadn’t spent much of that time outdoors. She’d been with her dad, who was still feeling under the weather and working from home these days, or she’d been at the office trying to put the pieces of her neglected business back together again. She had heard from Bryce, but only via text message. His texts were friendly and struck the perfect balance between I’m interested in you and I’m not going to turn into a stalker. They hadn’t made an official plan to meet, but no question, he intrigued her. She had every intention of continuing their cafeteria conversation in person.
For now, text messaging would have to suffice. Bryce provided updates on the girls, and he wanted Angie to pass along a message to Nadine. Ricardo, Buggy, and Casper didn’t or couldn’t make bail. Those three were locked up at least until trial and there was every reason to believe they would stay incarcerated for years longer.
Ivan “Stinger” Markovich was a different story. He’d posted a half million-dollar bond, no problem there, and had only to surrender his passport. Essentially he was back to living the life of Ivan. Nadine didn’t need to know everything.
The bright sunshine and warm wind brushed against Angie’s skin and rejuvenated her spirits, though her time outside would have to be short. Nadine and her mother were driving down from Potomac to meet Angie in her office. The purpose of the meeting was simply to say thank you. It would be the first time Angie and Nadine had met in person, and the pending encounter left her feeling strangely anxious.
Why did Nadine touch her so deeply? Angie wondered if it had something to do with timing. After all, Nadine’s case coincided with her mother’s death and with the appearance of a mysterious picture of a sad little girl. Maybe, in a way, Nadine had come to represent the girl in that photograph—a lost child in need of saving. But Nadine was real, not a mysterious photograph Angie kept in her purse at all times. Unlike the girl with the misshapen ear, Nadine was someone Angie could help.
The skate park, a concrete plaza enclosed in chain link fencing, featured a variety of well maintained (and graffiti free) ramps and rails. People of Bao’s ilk, those who lacked a gene for fear, traversed the obstacles at a startling rate of speed, turning their boards in midair, defying gravity and in some instances logic when they nailed a perfect landing.
Angie had questioned Bao’s insistence on meeting there and not at the office. His reply, “We should meet where my inspiration struck.”
He wouldn’t say more.
Of all the people hanging around the skate park, Mike Webb, dressed in his signature plaid and khakis, was perhaps the least hip of the bunch. Drinking coffee from a thermos didn’t elevate his hipster status any. Angie wore her most comfortable attire—Converse sneakers, black drawstring pants, and a long-sleeve white jersey. She fit in more than Mike, but not by much.
Bao, wearing a baseball shirt with THRASHER emblazoned on the front and knee length shorts, waved to Angie from the top of a high ramp. He descended like a missile, then used the back tail of the skateboard to bring it to a full stop five feet before taking Angie and Mike down like bowling pins.
“Yo, Ange, Mikey, so stoked you’re here. This is gonna blow your minds.” Bao looked like a kid with a Toys R Us gift card from Grandma.
“Happy to trek to you. What do you got?” Mike asked.