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People died in filth and garbage and the city kept running. My mom wouldn’t stop doing drugs and none of the programs were designed to truly help people quit. More people came to the streets and fewer people were leaving. And then my mom was dead and I felt...lost and alone.
But now, for the first time in years, I had hope. This roomful of people were all working to help me. Well, not specifically me. The police wanted to solve a murder. They cared about Craig Dyson and wanted justice for him. I talked to two FBI people on the phone, who worked with Michael, and explained what I had learned in city hall. They actually seemed to care and understand what I said. Even better, they thought my information and analysis would go a long way into exposing the fraud and corruption in the housing projects. They asked smart questions and listened to my answers.
Other than Will and Craig, no one had ever really listened to me. Maybe because I never had much to say.
That was then. Now I realized I needed to use my voice, join Will in speaking up.
“I’m okay,” I said to Michael. “Thank you for staying with me.”
“That’s my job.” But he didn’t smile.
“Are you okay?”
“I heard what happened to your mother. I’m really sorry.”
I didn’t want sympathy and automatically mumbled, “Thank you.”
“My mom died of a drug overdose,” he said quietly. “I was fourteen.”
I hadn’t expected that. Michael seemed to be so...levelheaded. Smart. Organized. He didn’t look like he’d grown up in a house full of ups and downs and chaos.
“Oh.” What else could I say? “I understand how you feel.”
“I don’t understand it. Logically, I do,” he said. “Logically, I see how people fall down the self-destructive path. But in my heart, I don’t get it. I’ve been angry with my mother for my entire life. I don’t like that in myself, but I can’t stop hating her for what she did to our family, what she did to herself.”
I reached over and took his hand. It surprised me—I don’t really like touching people. But he gripped it like a dying man and I realized he needed help. He was in pain. It didn’t show on the surface, but he hurt like every other survivor on the planet.
“I never hated my mom,” I said quietly. “She always had ups and downs, but it wasn’t until after my dad was killed in an accident that she started seriously using. She blamed it on her pain, but that was an excuse. Everything in an addict’s life is an excuse to keep using. I blamed myself—sometimes I still do. If I could have found the right words or the right treatment center, if I could have just let her live with me one more time...” I stopped. This wasn’t about me, this was about Michael. He’d been a child. Alone. Angry.
“It’s okay to be angry,” I told him. “I am. I just turn it to the people who cause the problem. The doctors who overprescribe. The drug dealers who push fentanyl. The people profiting off the homeless crisis. Yes, I blame my mom. Because I gave her every opportunity to get clean. I did everything in my power and it wasn’t enough.” For the first time, I believed it. For the first time in my life, I believed I did everything I could. Failure wasn’t on me.
“I admire you,” Michael said.
“I’m not anyone special. You’re the big, tough FBI agent,” I said with a little laugh.
He smiled. “I am. It helps, being able to do something good in the world. Like protecting supersmart computer nerds.”
I laughed for real and he smiled wider. “Thank you.”
“I just wanted to share because watching you and how you’ve handled what happened with your mother has helped me. You didn’t try, you didn’t even know, but I think for the first time I’m beginning to understand my mom better. I don’t know that I can forgive her, but I don’t want to hate her anymore.”
“Good,” I said. “Because hate is exhausting.”
Michael frowned and pulled his phone out of his breast pocket. “It’s my boss. Don’t leave the room, okay?”
“Roger that,” I said as he got up and walked to the corner for semiprivacy while he talked.
Lex, Peter and two cops were going over stacks of files on the table. Elena walked in and sat with them, motioned for me to join her at the table, so I did. “I just finished debriefing Campana and the chief of police.” I didn’t know who Campana was, but assumed this was someone high-ranking. “Campana himself is making the argument to the judge for the data center warrant, and as soon as it comes in, we’re rolling. I need you with us, Violet. You’re the only one who knows what we actually need, according to everything I’ve heard.”
“It’s more I’m the only one who knows how to retrieve the data without reinstalling the virus that destroyed it in the first place. But I’m ready. This will prove everything I’ve been saying from the beginning, and we’ll finally know exactly what was removed from the server.”
“That’s what we hope,” Elena said.
I didn’t hope; I knew. This was my world: computers and data. I knew what files had been removed, I just didn’t know what was in those files.
Now I would. Once and for all. Not only me, but the police, the DA’s office, the people of Los Angeles.
Everyone would know what was hidden...and who did the hiding.
