Edge

Chapter 43

WHEN WE RETURNED to the house, I punched in the code and the door unlocked.

Inside we were greeted by two solemn faces staring our way. Her face white, mouth open, Joanne looked at her sister and walked forward.

“I’m so sorry,” Joanne whispered. She tentatively touched Maree’s arms and then stepped back. Maree’s face was neutral. Neither accepting nor rejecting the apology.

“Mar, look, I was possessed… I was so upset… Amanda.”

The young woman shrugged, walked to her computer, picked it up. She flopped down on the couch and scanned through it. This was something else I’d noticed that my principals had done more and more recently, in the safe house and halfway motels: withdrawn into their cyberwombs.

Joanne continued, “Please… say something.”

“I’ll be moving out when we get out of prison.” Her voice was eerily soft. She continued to look through the files of pictures.

Images. We call them images…

Joanne lowered her head, about to say something more, but couldn’t conjure the words.

It was then that my own computer pinged. I stepped into the den. It was an email from Claire duBois, with, I hoped, an answer to what I’d had her research when Joanne had told us about the Colombian diplomat.

I was prepared for some of the contents. The rest was a bit of a shock.

I stared at the screen for some moments then printed out the documents and returned to the living room. As I did, my face must have revealed something because I found the mood in the room had changed from recrimination and contrition-in varying degrees of sincerity-to intense anticipation as they gazed at me.

I read through the four or five pages carefully once more. Then I glanced toward my principals. “It’s not Maree. She has nothing to do with Loving.”

Joanne sighed. “I just thought, because of Allende…”

I continued, “My associate just talked to some people involved in the investigation. They know the man in the picture. He’s Allende’s mistress’s son. Has nothing to do with any illegal operations. He was sharing music downloads on the thumb drive. Even if they saw Maree was taking pictures, they wouldn’t have an interest in hiring Loving to get any information from her. And his phones and travel records are clean.”

Joanne shook her head. She may have continued to speak. I didn’t know. I was reading the rest of the documents duBois had sent, a third time now, just to make sure.

They drooped in my hand.

“My associate found something else,” I told them.

“What?” Ryan wanted to know. He was absently massaging his game leg.

“The answer-why Henry Loving’s been hired.” I looked up, toward Joanne.

She froze. Her eyes regarded the sheets in my hand as if she were identifying the body of a loved one.

In a low, grim voice, very different from her tone throughout the past few days, Joanne said to me, “It’s not a problem, Corte. It’s been looked into.”

Maree stared at her sister. Ryan took in Joanne’s face, flushed, lips taut.

He asked her, “What are you talking about?”

I was the person who answered. “Henry Loving’s after your wife, not you.”