She stared at him.
Her father winked. “Never let it be said Nate Walsh stood in the way of the truth. Or of his little girl, when she’s got a mind to do something. You’ve got the plate number…” He shrugged. “I don’t think it would be too hard to find a name behind it. I think we both know a federal agent in Atlanta who just might get you an ID on it pretty quick.”
Carrie looked at her father and smiled at him gratefully, the blood rushing back into her face.
“And you damn well better hope they’re not stolen…” He rolled his eyes. “Which they probably are. ’Cause where the hell would that set your case?”
“I know.” Carrie grinned and nodded. “I know.”
“So come on…” He stood up. He reached a hand for her. “Let’s go help your mom clean up…”
She took his hand, and when she got to her feet, she looked into her father’s eyes, his deep, gray, shouldering eyes, and he put his arms around her and she put her head against his chest.
“Thank you, Daddy,” she whispered. “Thank you for believing in me.”
“As long as you know the real reason you’re taking this on, PK? Why you’re putting everything at risk, everything that only a few months back seemed like the world to you. Your position. Your reputation. It’s one thing to keep a secret from the job, something else to keep it from yourself.”
“Because it wasn’t everything, Daddy.” She lifted her head off his chest and looked him in the eyes. She knew exactly why she would do it, though the answer had never come so clearly, nor quite this way. “Rick was! And he would do it. He wouldn’t just let it go. He’d dig for the truth, right? Wouldn’t he, Dad? And right now…” Her eyes glazed up a bit and a tear rolled down her cheek and landed on his golf shirt. “Right now what I want more than anything in the world is to make him proud.”
“He would be proud, honey,” her father said, squeezing her. “He’d have to stand in line to say it, but I promise you, he would be proud.”
Chapter Thirty-One
“Maryanne…?”
I knew I was taking a chance. I could feel my assistant trying to decide whether to answer. And with all that had come out, I couldn’t blame her if she didn’t.
Finally, she said hesitantly,
“Yeah, Maryanne, it’s me. But please-before you say a word, I don’t want anyone else to know I’m calling. Is that all right?”
“Yes, of course. Doctor…” She lowered her voice. “We’re just all so confused about what’s going on. But I want you to know, no one here believes a word of it. We all know you couldn’t have done those things. We just want to help you prove yourself…”
It was like a warm breeze hearing her say that. To know that the people who actually knew me, who worked with me, didn’t blindly believe what was being said. Maryanne Kunin had been my assistant for fifteen years. I’d been there for her when her husband lost his contracting company and then a condo they owned in Destin went down below their mortgage.
Now she would be there for me.
“Maryanne, listen, I need something from you. It’s important! It’s just that no one else can know. That’s vital. But there’s nothing anyone can do for me right now that can help me more. Can I count on you?”
“Of course, Doctor,” she replied almost as quickly as I had asked her.
“Thank you.” I felt a lump catch in my throat. My voice cracked a little with emotion. “You just have to know, Maryanne, I didn’t do those things they said. Any of them. I-”
“You don’t have to say that to me, Dr. Steadman. Just tell me what you need.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
“Federal Bureau of Investigation,” the operator answered. “Atlanta Office.”
“Jack Walsh, please…”
Carrie took in a breath. She had to admit that she felt some doubts about calling her brother. One side of her hoped he would be out in the field and unable to take her call. Another side told her she was doing the right thing. There had been a Steadman sighting the night before at a motel somewhere in northern Georgia. The night clerk had realized that he’d been there only when she saw the morning news after he had gone. Now the woman was all over the news. Carrie was pretty sure she herself knew where he was heading.
Anyway, she decided, the damage was done already.
The real damage was done the moment she withheld that call.
“Special Agent Walsh.” Her brother picked up the phone.
“Jack…” Carrie said. “Here’s one for you: the CIA, FBI, and LAPD are all trying to prove they’re the best at apprehending dangerous criminals. President Obama devises a test. He releases a rabbit into a forest and tells each of them to catch it.”
She and her brother always started things off with a joke. He said, “Okay…”
“So the CIA goes in, and they embed animal informants throughout the forest. They question all plant and animal witnesses. After three months of extensive investigations, they conclude that rabbits do not exist.”
Jack chuckled.
“The FBI goes in next. After two weeks with no leads, they burn the forest down, killing everything in it, including the rabbit. And they make no apologies. They say the rabbit had it coming!”
He chuckled again.
“Finally, it’s the LAPD’s turn. They come out two hours later with a badly beaten bear. The bear is yelling crazily: ‘Okay, okay…
This time her brother laughed.
“It’s making the rounds here,” Carrie said. “Thought you’d get a laugh.”
“Hey, Car, I was just thinking of you.”
She and her brother didn’t talk as much as they used to. Mostly they just traded e-mails a couple of times a week on family matters. Jack was two years older; he and his wife, Polly, had two young kids of their own, and half the time he was off on assignment somewhere. So they took a minute now to catch up, about how she was feeling back on the job. And about Raef.
“Pop says he’s about ready to get back to school again?”
“Definitely after the summer. He’s really doing great, Jack. Listen…” She switched from the small talk. “There’s a reason why I called…”
“I knew that,” her brother said. “The joke wasn’t
“I need a favor, Jack.” She took a deep breath. “I don’t want you to ask me about it. About why I need it. I just need you to do it for me. I need you to track down a license-plate number for me.”
“Plate number? You guys don’t have people down there who do that kind of thing?” His tone was both jocular and a bit suspicious.
“What can I say, dude, budget cutbacks.” Carrie sighed, playing along. They always had the kind of relationship where they shared everything with each other. Though Jack was always the great pontificator. Captain of the wrestling team in high school. Debate team. Villanova Law. But this time she wasn’t volunteering anything more. But Jack was no dummy. He knew they could get that kind of information in thirty seconds down in Jacksonville. Why would she be asking him to trace the plates other than some reason to keep it out of the office? No doubt his next call would probably be to their father.
“I have confidence you wouldn’t be getting the FBI into something they ought not to be in, right, little sister?” Maybe he’d
