When Gibson and I stepped in front of the cameras, he held up his fist.This is why we work so well together.I hated not doing things by the book. Gibson loved it.We balance each other out.
My fist bump was less enthusiastic than G’s before I nodded to Doug.
Doug’s thumbs up let us know the cameras were rolling.
We flashed out badges and IDs and introduced ourselves. I restated what’d we’d found in the hostel locker before taking the items out of the backpack, starting with the jewelry box.
I described every item in the jewelry box, giving each to G to add anything he noticed.
We held each picture up to the camera and turned it around if there was writing on the back. Most had names, dates, and locations.
The pictures created a photo journal of Mrs. Singer’s pregnancy and Nina’s infancy.
If we found nothing else, the pictures and family heirloom jewelry would mean the world to Nina.
After the CIA releases the evidence.
My hand paused midway to the small drawer at the bottom edge of the box. The CIA would bury everything we’d found if it ended up in the wrong hands. Just like they had with the Singers’ evidence.
G nudged me with his foot, reminding me of the task at hand.
The drawer contained one small envelope, addressed to Nina.
I held it for the camera and placed it on the table. If I opened it, I’d feel compelled to read it, and that felt too personal.
Like I’m not already violently invading their private lives. Telling myself it was for the right reasons, I shut down my guilt.
I could practically hear Gibson’s thoughts. What the fuck? Why aren’t you opening it?
But he couldn’t ask until the cameras stopped rolling, so I had time to come up with an excuse.
I’ve lost my edge.
I picked up the journal, untied the thin, aged ribbon, and opened the cover.
“To our most precious jewel, we didn’t plan for you, but we couldn’t love you more—”
I flipped through the pages; the entry dates more or less matched the dates on the photos. They’d kept a journal of their thoughts and feelings as Nina grew inside the womb, and then outside it.
I didn’t read the entries out loud, except for the last date.Seven weeks before they were officially listed as MIA.
The name Foster caught my eye as I closed the journal.
They knew all along that Nina was in danger.
Fuuuuck.They’d brought Nina to Dallas, secured her future, and returned to Germany. All the while knowing they might never see their daughter again.
I’d respected the Singers before, but my respect turned to awe at the sacrifice they’d made for their country.
I’d restate my vow out loud as soon as I could, but it rang out clear in my head.I will protect your daughter and find your killers.
Gibson forcibly handed me the first manilla envelope.
I’ll deal with his irritation later.
Inside was Nina’s birth certificate, copies of her parents’ insurance policy and bank statements, and an old USB. I summed up the contents for the camera while fanning out the paperwork.
“Officer Gibson and I will review the paperwork back at the office.”
