Every other time she had answered. She was programmed to do so.
Apparently, she was still programmed to do so.
She said, “Hello?”
A man’s voice said, “Did you remember the phone number?”
“Yes. Surprised you still have the same one after all these years.”
“Federal bureaucracy moves slowly, if at all. I’ve gotten a few promotions over the years, but the main number is still the same. And when the request came through I told them I wanted to handle it. You were and still are a very special case.”
“What request?” said Reel.
He didn’t respond right away. “Your father,” he finally said.
Reel said nothing at first. It was like a hand from the grave had just closed over her mouth.
“I don’t have a father.”
“I know in every sense of the word except biologically, you don’t. But the biological one has asked to see you, before he dies.”
“I have no interest in seeing him ever again.”
“I thought that would be your answer and I sure as hell can’t blame you.”
“He’s still in prison?”
“Absolutely. Same place. Alabama. And he’s not going anywhere. He’s currently in the prison hospital ward. Cancer. They can’t execute him because of his medical condition. He’s terminal. I was assured of that. The man will not be leaving prison alive.”
“Good. Lethal injection is fast. Cancer is slow. The more pain the better. Hell is too good for him. Anything that happens to him is too good for him. He was born a son of a bitch and he’ll die a son of a bitch and he won’t have one person to mourn him.” Reel’s voice had risen as she spoke.
“I know, but I’m just the messenger, Sally.”
“That’s not my name anymore.”
“They wouldn’t tell me what you’d changed it to. So Sally is the only one I know.”
“Okay.”
“Look, I debated whether to even bother you with this. But I decided it was ultimately your decision, not mine. I made a few calls. I sort of knew where you ended up. Pulled a few strings and they gave me your current number but not your name. Said I could make one call. It was up to you to answer it or not. They wouldn’t have even done that, but I am a fellow fed. It probably freaked you out when you saw the number.”
“It did. You know I’m no longer in Witness Protection. Haven’t been for a long time.”
“I know, but this was the only way he could think to reach out to you. Apparently he knew you were in the program. It must have come out all those years ago.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m not going.”
“No argument here.”
“How much longer does he have to live?”
“What? Oh, um, they didn’t really say. The doc I talked to said he was bad off. Cancer all over him. She wasn’t sure what was keeping him alive. Any day now, I guess. And then you can really lay that ghost to rest.”
Reel nodded to herself, thinking about things. “I appreciate the call.”
“Well, I wish it were over something better than this. You were very memorable, Sa—I mean, whatever name you go by now.”
“Jessica. It’s Jessica.”
“Okay, Jessica. It’s been a long time, but I’ve never come close to forgetting you. And with all the hoops I had to jump through to get to even talk to you, I imagine you’re a pretty big deal now. I’m happy for you. Always knew you’d do something special with your life.”
“I wouldn’t characterize my life as being ‘special.’”
“Well, whatever the case, I wish you the best of luck. And if you ever need anything, please call. I know you’re not in WITSEC anymore, but, well, I still care about what happens to you.”
“I appreciate that, I really do.”
“And your old man can go to hell.”
Reel clicked off and stared down at the phone in her hand.
She was still staring at it when Robie came back.
“What’s up?” he asked, taking off his coat and coming over to sit next to her.
“Nothing. How’s Julie?”
“She’s fine. She said you two had a nice talk on the drive over, but she wouldn’t tell me anything about it.”
“I like that kid more and more.”
Robie looked at the phone and then up at her. “What is it, Jessica?”
“I got a call.”
“From who?”
“WITSEC.”
“You’re not in the program anymore.”
“They reached out to me because someone reached out to them.”
“Who?”
“My father. Earl Fontaine.”
Chapter
32
ROBIE WENT INTO THE KITCHEN and made a pot of coffee. He carried two cups back into the other room and handed one to Reel. The rain continued to pour down outside as he sat across from her and took a sip, letting the warmth of the beverage battle the chill in his bones.
“Your father?”
Reel nodded.
“Want to talk about it?”
“Not really.”
“Okay.” He started to get up, but she said, “Wait. Just wait.”
Robie settled back in his chair as Reel took a drink and then clasped her hands around the cup. Robie could see that her hands were shaking slightly, something he had never witnessed in her before.
She didn’t say anything, so Robie said, “In the interest of full disclosure, DiCarlo told me some about your past. I know why you were in WITSEC. I know some things about your old man. And what he did.”
Without looking at him she said, “And my mother?”
Robie replied, “Yes.” He added, “I’m sorry, Jessica.”
She shrugged and sat back, almost burrowing into the cushion of the chair. She drank her coffee and they both listened to the rain.
“He wants to see me.”
“Your father?”
She nodded. “He’s dying, in prison, of course. He was supposed to be executed but he has terminal cancer.”
“And they can’t execute a dying inmate,” said Robie. “A bit ironic.”
“He wants to see me,” she said again.
“It doesn’t matter what he wants,” replied Robie. “The choice is yours, not his.” He leaned forward and tapped her knee. “I know that you understand that.”
She nodded again. “I understand that. The choice is mine.”
He cocked his head and studied her. “And it should be an easy choice.” He paused and added, “But it’s not?”
She let out a long breath that she seemed to have been holding in, because she gave a little gasp of discomfort. “Easy choices are among the most difficult of all,” she said in a husky voice.
“I take it you never got to face him back then?”
She shook her head, drank more coffee down, and retreated into a shell seemingly as thick as the armored hide of an Abrams tank.
“And you want that shot now, before it’s too late? Hence the easy becomes difficult.”
“It’s irrational.”
“Half the things people feel are irrational. It doesn’t make it easier to deal with. It actually makes it harder, because logic doesn’t come into it. That’s one of the downsides of being ‘merely’ human.”
Reel rubbed at one of her eyes. “He was an evil man. No conscience, Robie. His greatest thrill in life was to…was to hurt other people.”
“And he hurt you?”
“Yes.”
“And he killed your mother.”
A tear formed at the corner of Reel’s right eye. She flicked it away fiercely, even angrily, her hand moving like she was blocking a punishing blow about to be delivered against her.
She looked up at him, dry-eyed now. “He was the principal reason I do what I do.” She paused, seemed to consider her own statement, and added, “He’s the only reason I do what I do.”
“Normal people don’t grow up to do the sorts of jobs we do, Jessica,”
said Robie.
They listened to the rain a bit more before Robie said, “So what are you going to do? Just let it go?”
“Is that what you think I should do?” she said quickly, seizing on his words.
“The only thing I’m sure of is that you’re the only one who can answer that question.”
“And if it were you, what would you do?” she asked pointedly.
“But I’m not you,” he said evenly.
“You’re not helping much.”
“I’m listening. I can’t make up your mind for you. Not that you’d let anyone do that anyway.”
“With this I might.”
He drank his coffee and said nothing in response. He watched her as she closed her eyes and took several long breaths. When she opened them she said, “Why do you think he wants to see me?”
Robie sat back and put his cup on the coffee table that sat between them. “He’s dying. Redemption? Say goodbye? Tell you to go to hell? All of the above?” He leaned forward. “I think the more important question is, what would you say to him?”
She looked at him and Robie suddenly saw a fragility that he had never thought could possibly dwell inside her.
She said, “There is no forgiveness. I don’t care if he is a dead man.”
“I can see that. But it doesn’t answer the question.”
“And if I don’t have an answer?”
“Then you don’t have an answer.”
“Then I shouldn’t go?”
He said nothing to this, just continued to watch her.
She said, “I feel like I’m back in the shrink session.”
“I don’t have the qualifications. But whatever you decide to do, you’ll have regrets either way, you know that, right?”
“No, I don’t know that,” she said sharply. In a softer voice she said, “Why do you say that?”
“Maybe you’re not the only one who’s tried to come to grips with their past.”
Her lips parted slightly. “You?”
“Again, I don’t matter in this discussion. Just know that one answer over the other does not equal a solution. It’s only a decision. And decisions have ramifications either way.”
“You actually sound very qualified to be a shrink.”
Robie shrugged. “You want more coffee?”
She shook her head but he rose and got another cup for himself. When he settled back down across from her she said, “So does it come down to a decision of lesser regrets, then?”
“It might very well. But that’s only one set of factors.”
“What’s the most important one? In your opinion?” she quickly added.
“Like I said before. If you have something you want to say to him, then okay. If you have nothing in your heart that you want this man to hear before he croaks, then…”
“But not forgiveness,” said Reel. “I can never forgive him.”
“No, not forgiveness. And you don’t have to make a decision now.”
“They told me he could die anytime.”
Robie took a swallow of coffee. “Not really your problem, Jessica.”
“Can I ask you something, Robie?”
“Yes.”
“If I decide to see him.” She stopped. It seemed she was searching for either the words or possibly the courage to go on.
“Just say it, Jessica.”
“If I decide to go, will you go with me?” She added in a rush, “Look, I know it’s stupid. I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself and—”
He reached over and gripped her hand. “Yes, I’ll go with you.”
Chapter
33
THE AIRPORT WAS SMALL AND the car rental options stood at one. Robie got the car while Reel retrieved the hard-sided bag containing their weapons.
She handed Robie his pistol while she slid into the seat next to him. He holstered the weapon and said, “What are the gun laws like in Alabama?”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“No, I’m being serious.”
“Basically, in Alabama if you have a pulse you can have a gun, as many of them as you want.”
She thunked the door closed and Robie started the car. “Thanks for the clarification,” he said curtly.
“You’re welcome.”
The ride to the prison would take an hour. Reel had called ahead and they were on the visitors’ list.
He gave her a sideways glance. “You ready for this?”
“No.”
“When was the last time you saw him?”
“When I was a little girl.”
“Then he’s changed a lot. I mean physically.”
“I’ve changed a lot more. And not just physically.”
“Decided what you’re going to say yet?”
“Maybe.”
“I won’t ask any more questions.”
She reached over and gripped his arm. “I really appreciate you coming with me, Robie. It…it means a lot to me.”
“Well, we’ve been through a lot together. If we don’t watch each other’s six, who will?”
She smiled at this comment and sat back against the seat. “I haven’t been back to this part of the country for a long time.”
“DiCarlo said you were a teenager when you went undercover and busted that neo-Nazi gang. Pretty remarkable. And the CIA found out about it when you were in WITSEC and recruited you.”
Reel was silent for a few moments. “My father believed in all that shit too. White supremacy. There’re many things to love in this country. The skinheads are not one of them.”
“So your father was a skinhead too?”
“I’m not sure he was that specific, actually. He basically hated everybody.”
“So the gang you busted all went to prison?”
“Not all of them. The head guy, Leon Dikes, had a good lawyer and only spent a few years in prison. When I was in foster care the ‘dad’ was related to someone in Dikes’s hate group.”
“A guy like that is eligible to be a foster parent?” said Robie.