Unintended Consequences - By Marti Green Page 0,54
a short fuse, a problem since his teen years. He’d gotten good at keeping it under control after he joined the FBI, but it still sparked now and then. “Look, somebody here’s got to know her number. Don’t you have a personnel office, or what do they call it now—human resources?”
“Sure, but they won’t give you her phone number. What’s the big deal about waiting one more day?”
“A man’s fucking life. That’s the big deal,” Tommy said as he got up and left the office.
He’d had enough for one day. Flying always tired him out. He headed back to the hotel, where he took a long scalding-hot shower and ordered room service. While waiting for it to be delivered, he called Dani to report on his day.
“Please tell me you have good news, Tommy.”
“Not yet. But it’s also not hopeless. I’ve got a few things going here that might pan out. And I’m heading over to the hospital tomorrow.”
“Well, we struck out today. The judge didn’t even wait overnight to think about it. He ruled from the bench.”
“You know, even though it’s true that Angelina had leukemia, it doesn’t mean our guy didn’t kill her. Maybe it gave him more of a reason—he couldn’t handle it. Or maybe he thought he’d save her from suffering in the end.” He heard a sigh at the other end of the line. He pressed on. “You can’t just ignore Sallie’s confession. I mean, it’s nineteen years later and she’s still saying they killed their daughter.” He appreciated how much Dani wanted George to be innocent. The thought of a parent murdering his child was abhorrent. But Tommy knew from his days at the FBI that most murders of children under the age of 5 were done by parents—fifty-seven percent. And the bulk of the rest were committed by other family members or family acquaintances. He would spend the time in Rochester looking for another answer, and he would do it diligently, but he didn’t have high hopes that he’d find any trace of Angelina Calhoun in this city.
“She could barely look me in the eyes. There’s no question she feels enormous guilt, but maybe it’s over abandoning her sick daughter. Nineteen years of not knowing what happened to her. Not knowing whether she suffered a horrible death, all alone. Not knowing whether some stranger picked her up and did awful things to her. Yeah, I can see a mother feeling that she killed her daughter by leaving her the way they did.”
Tommy would keep investigating and maybe he’d find something that would prove Dani right. He knew he’d never convince her otherwise.
Finally, the clouds were gone and sunshine greeted Tommy when he pulled back the heavy drapes in his room. The bright sky put him in a better mood. Not a great mood, just better. Being on the road, being away from his family, tired him. Lately, he’d thought about leaving HIPP and finding a steady security job, a 9 to 5 life. He wasn’t like the others there who were on a mission against capital punishment. He’d heard all the excuses criminals gave for their acts—their abusive childhoods, their alcoholic parents, their crime-infested neighborhoods. But for him it boiled down to this: Murderers should get what they gave.
He downed his usual breakfast—coffee and a cinnamon roll—and headed back to Olmstead Community Services to find Alice. An attractive young woman stood behind the counter with a welcoming smile. Her name tag read “Pam.”
“You’re a breath of fresh air to start the day with,” he said.
Pam’s smile dimmed. “Excuse me?”
“Just teasing you, sweetheart. I had a sourpuss wait on me yesterday over at Vital Records and you’re a welcome improvement.”
“Is there something I can do for you?” she asked, the smile now completely gone.
“I’m looking for Alice. Maybe Roger mentioned to you that I’d be back today?”
Pam’s smile returned. “Oh, you’re that investigator. Alice is all the way back in that corner,” she said, pointing down the row of desks. “You can go on back. She’s expecting you.”
Tommy made his way past the various public workers, some busy at their desks, others chatting with each other. He passed one guy playing Freecell on his computer. As he approached Alice’s desk, he saw a petite gray-haired woman, with thick-lensed glasses, dressed in a flowered blouse and a pleated skirt.
“Morning, Alice. I’m Tommy Noorland. Did Roger happen to speak to you about me?”
“You’re the investigator, right? Asking about an abandoned child?”