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Ava put a hand on her arm. “Who is that?” she asked quietly.
“Tommy. My brother.” Her voice was a squeak, barely audible, but Ava took her hand, held it, and Jennifer felt better.
Margo offered coffee or water. Her dad took water. Tommy took nothing. They sat at the large table, prearranged so that Jennifer could watch her dad’s face.
“I talked to Jennifer—Virginia—and she’s not coming,” Margo said. She put a water bottle in front of Jennifer’s dad and sat down next to Jack. “You need to convince us that you’re no threat to her, and we’ll relay that to your daughter. Ultimately, any decision about how to proceed will be up to her.”
He nodded once. “Thank you for your time. I’ll get right to the point. You know that my daughter staged her death eight years ago and has taken another identity.”
“Yes.”
“And she told you about my business.”
“I learned most on my own, but she filled in some holes.”
“Virginia was always a smart girl,” he said wistfully. “I hadn’t even considered she hadn’t died. Even though there was no body...” He took a deep breath, coughed, drank some water. “Jenny White was Virginia’s best friend. She died just before their fourteenth birthdays.”
“Died in an arson fire, correct?”
A nod. Jennifer saw the flash of pain and anger in her dad’s eyes, then it was gone.
“Her father was my best friend. My...enemies...killed them.”
His words were calm, cool, but Jennifer felt the heat of his eyes as he kept them firmly on Margo.
Margo said, “How did you find her?”
“Two weeks ago, a local investigator called my insurance agent to confirm the deaths of the Whites. Jimmy and I had used the same insurance firm, and my agent thought it was odd—he hadn’t had inquiries about Jimmy or his family for years. The investigator told the agent he was tracking a woman named Jennifer White in Phoenix who had parents of the same name. White is very common, but my agent wanted to let me know, in case...well, in case someone was trying to mess with me. It made me wonder...” He shook his head. “I didn’t believe that Virginia was alive, but I thought I should look into it. I hired Trident Security and asked them to locate Jennifer White, twenty-six, in Phoenix and provide me with a photo and fingerprints.”
“And she did.”
“The photo, yes, and the fingerprints were being run. But I didn’t need them—I knew by the picture that it was Virginia. I asked Ms. Endicott to track her so I had information before I reached out. I didn’t know how I would do so.”
Fingerprints. How had they gotten them? Had they broken into her condo? Her work? Her car? Jennifer probably shouldn’t be surprised.
“And then...?” Margo prompted.
“Thomas and I consulted and decided the best thing was to talk to Virginia face-to-face. But when we arrived on Monday, she was missing. I feared she had somehow found out I was here, that she ran and I would never be able to find her, to explain everything.”
His voice cracked, and Jennifer sucked in her breath. Her dad looked like he was still grieving.
“What do you plan to do with Jennifer?”
“Do with her?” He shook his head. “Talk. Ask for her forgiveness. I would like her to come home.”
Jennifer shook her head. She would never return to Florida. It was full of pain and grief and death. Never in a million years.
“But mostly,” he said, “I want to see her, to tell her I am sorry about the life I gave her. It wasn’t fair to her, or to Thomas. Her mother and I...we grew up the same, in families that, let’s say, didn’t always play by legal rules. We knew how hard it was, but we didn’t face death as Virginia did. First my wife, my strong, beautiful wife, taken too soon. Then my best friend, murdered. And I didn’t see what it did to my children. I don’t know if I would have cared if I had seen, not at the time. Now I see everything clearly, and I want to make it right.”
“How?” Margo asked bluntly.
It’s what Jennifer would have asked.
“I love Virginia. With all my heart and soul, I love my daughter and I will beg for her forgiveness. For what I did, for what she suffered. Thomas was gracious enough to forgive me.”
Her dad was crying. She had never seen him cry. Not after her mom died, not after the Whites were murdered, not ever. But tears rolled down his hollow cheeks.
Tommy took their dad’s hand and squeezed it. For the first time, he spoke, “My dad is dying. We walked away from everything in Miami—everything,” he repeated for emphasis. “We bought a hundred-acre ranch in Wyoming, and that’s where we’re going tomorrow. We want—both Dad and me—for Virginia to come with us. I want my family back.”
