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“He’s out of town.”
“Talk to him when he gets back, then. He’s got to be hurt by what you did. If you get a paper cut, you suck on your finger and go on a few seconds later. If you stub your toe, you curse and jump around on one foot for a minute or two before you can walk again. The time to get over something changes with how big the hurt is. You can’t expect him to get over this in a few minutes.”
“You think he’ll ever forgive me?”
She took a deep breath. “That’s something even he probably doesn’t know yet.”
I nodded.
She got up. “How about if I make the pizza and you find a movie?”
I scrolled through the choices and settled on the same movie I’d seen a while ago:Two Weeks Notice. At least in that one things had worked out in the end.
I was about to pour another glass when I decided it could wait until bedtime. I’d need all the help I could get finding sleep tonight.
* * *
Dennis
“I didn’t expectyou back so soon,” Dad said.
We sat in the Atlantic Aviation conference room at the airport. I’d left DC quickly after being told twice by Parsons that staying would only make things worse.
“The agents out there weren’t going to let me stick around to look over their shoulders, and Kelly called off our dinner.”
“I expected them to be more cooperative now that we’ve got a lead on Debbie. I could get young William’s Uncle Garth involved.”
I waved him off. “Let’s hold off on the big guns until later. The local agents will keep me up to date, but the ones out there aren’t worth pissing off—antagonizing right now.”
Parsons had said they wouldn’t give me the time of day, and pissing them off would only make it harder for her to get any cooperation out of them.
I believed her.
Dad held up the picture I’d brought, which was less than ten hours old. “This is Deborah?”
“No doubt about it. The DNA sample is definitely from her. Agent Parsons thinks she did it on purpose.”
“Parsons…I know that name.”
I filled in the blanks for him. “In Boston she worked with Ashley.”
“Yes, I remember. I met her at Vincent’s place. Short girl?”
“Yup.”
“Smart cookie, that one.” He stroked his goatee. “She thinks it was purposeful?”
I used the same line Parsons had. “When was the last time you spit on the floor inside a building?”
“I see.”
“Parsons’ thinking is that Debbie wanted to be identified. She spit when the other robber’s back was turned.”
“Good thing, then. Otherwise, we’d never have known.”
“Exactly.” I hoped Parsons was right, because I’d drunk the Kool-Aid and bought into her hypothesis. “It implies but doesn’t prove she was coerced.”
He lifted the picture again.
