“How can you even work?” she asked.
“How can I not?”
I moved the conversation to Julia, and Jo said, “I came to tell you. I checked on Julia before I left and talked to the surgeon. He said he’d spoken to you.”
“Yeah, we talked early this morning and again this afternoon.”
“There’s new swelling from the surgery, but it’s still looking hopeful tonight. Did he tell you that?”
“Not quite like that, no.”
“He’s being careful with you.”
Jo sat down on the edge of a lounge chair.
“I didn’t know if you’d be home, but thought I’d try.”
“I’m home for a few hours, and I’m glad you’re here.”
I sat down next to her. She reached a hand out. I took it.
“You have a lot to figure out,” Jo said.
“I do.”
Neither Jo nor I have kids, and I wasn’t really sure what it meant to see my niece through high school into college, or how to make it work if it turned out that Julia was paralyzed. Jo squeezed my hand.
“I think she’ll be okay,” Jo said.
“Do you really believe that or just hope for it?”
I saw her hesitate and heard her choose her words.
“Swelling after injury varies in all of us. Julia may be on the low end of the curve.”
“I thought this was about bruising.”
“It’s about both, and the early signs are good. Latik is the best we have. He heard about the bombings last night and drove straight to the hospital.” She squeezed my hand. “This is terrible timing, but I have to say this. I’ve been thinking a lot about us. When I heard about the bombings and your family, I decided I wouldn’t wait any longer. We made a mistake. We belong together. That’s not for tonight, but I want you to know that.”
I had similar thoughts most days.
“I’m here for you,” she said. “I’ll call you if I learn anything. About us, I’m going to leave it there for you to think about when you’re ready.”
She kissed me, then walked out the back gate. I heard her car start and pull away as I sat thinking about her. Then alone in the night by the pool, I let go and wept for everything: for Melissa, whom I’d never hear laugh again; for my closest friend, Jim Kern; and for Nate, so full of life and forward-looking. Melissa used to tell me in a regular way and only half-jokingly, that I was so, so lucky she and Jim and their family were in Vegas. I had a standard retort, but I knew her point was true. I was always a workaholic cop, and after Carrie died, that only got worse. Melissa’s family was my family, my link to seeing children grow up and a lot of other things. I was so lucky. I knew that and never forgot it. I’d have to change and be more than I have been to truly help Julia cope and move on.
I sat there by the pool and talked to Melissa and promised her what I would do. I don’t even remember what time it was when I got up and walked inside. I slept an hour, maybe an hour and a half, and headed back in.
14
In December 1988 a bomb brought down Pan Am Flight 103. That was nine years before I joined the FBI, but I still kept a file titled Lockerbie. In it were scanned copies of satellite imagery, helicopter surveys, and an accounting of the path leading to the Swiss-made part, a Mebo MST-13 timer used to make the bomb. Early in the morning on the sixth of July, I scanned the file as a kind of touchstone. At 7:00 a.m., I sat down with Lacey Shah, the young agent Venuti had assigned to work with me.
I drank black coffee, my habit, and Shah drank tea while she thumbnailed her background. This was her first year with the Bureau, first six months, really. Started in January and arrived here yesterday. Headquarters was beefing up staff in the area for the duration of this investigation. Venuti had said he didn’t know if she was aware yet that I’d lost family. He left it to me to sort that out, and from the easy way she was talking, I knew she didn’t. I liked the calm, confident way she expressed herself and I didn’t want to interrupt that with my sadness. It could wait.
“You rate yourself highly computer literate?” I asked.
“I am and I believe the computer is the greatest investigative tool ever.”
Venuti loved to say the same thing, but were we solving more cases now that everyone camped out in front of a screen? That conversation could also wait. We moved on. Lacey had never written a FISA request nor done a Title III, but was confident she could, along with anything else we needed.
“I need coaching, but I’m resourceful.”
“That’s a good trait around here.”
“When I was six years old, my mom would go to work and leave me to take care of my baby brother and sister.”
“How old were they?”
“Three-and-a-half and five.”
“Which one was easiest?”
“My brother. He was the five-year-old, so he understood that if he gave me trouble I’d beat the shit out of him.”
“You left this out of your FBI interview.”
“I don’t tell many people.”