She pointed to a pile of newspapers she’d set on the bedside stand. “Media is hailing you as a hero. The chief, mayor, everyone. You saved what they’re calling a daughter of the city, given her dad’s high profile.”
“Saw on the iPad. It was you who saved Annelise, not me.”
“No way. We made a good team.”
“Yeah. Maybe.”
“Look, I ... I’m sorry I left you there. I—”
“Hey, I’da have left you, too, Pallorino. Yous did what you was trained to do. You’re a good cop.”
“Except I’m not a cop.”
“Yeah, well. You still gots the bad guys. You still play a good game.”
She snorted. “So I’ve come to invite you to a wedding.”
He stared at her, a feeling of joy mushrooming quietly inside his chest. “For reals?”
“For reals.” She smiled. Really smiled. And it looked real good on her. And just for this moment Pallorino’s honest-to-God smile made the world seem like a better place.
It made Kjel feel just a bit worthwhile. Because he’d helped put that smile there in many tiny, little ways.
Yeah, maybe this was better than the alternative. For now.
CHAPTER 50
FRIDAY, MARCH1
Angie sat at her desk in her apartment, a hot mug of coffee at her side as she went through files for the new case she was working. Things were going well with Brixton and Coastal Investigations. He’d extended his contractual arrangement with her. He’d pretty much tripped over his feet to do so after the positive results from the Moss Girl case, as he called it, and the extensive media coverage that had flowed out of it. When Brixton had seen all the headlines, he’d seen fresh business. Angie was confident she’d have her full license before long and then her own firm. But for now she was content. She was getting the kind of cases that fired her engine.
The cell on her desk rang. She snatched it up and answered.
“Pallorino.”
“Angie, hey, it’s Claire. I’m in town to visit my gran. You busy today?”
Angie glanced up, feeling a punch of pleasure at the sound of the young woman’s voice. Outside her windows the sky was blue. Spring was in the air. She’d been so absorbed in her case reports she hadn’t even noticed it was past noon.
“A woman’s gotta eat,” Angie said with a smile in her voice. “What do you have in mind?” This was the third time Claire Tollet had called to see Angie when she’d come into Victoria to visit with Justice Jilly Monaghan. The old judge and her great-granddaughter were getting to know each other, one small step at a time, and it warmed Angie’s heart. Even while ripping apart one family, Angie had managed to bring this new and disparate family together. It made things seem worthwhile. On her last visit, Claire had told Angie that she’d successfully completed her GSAR, the requisite training to become a full-fledged member of Port Ferris Search and Rescue. She was volunteering with the team now but looking farther afield for a new place to live. She’d said she needed to make a full break. Maybe after time she’d manage to go back and form some sort of truce with Shelley and Garrison. Maybe after the trials, Claire had said. But it would still be a long way to trial for Garrison and his wife, and for Beau and Joey Tollet, and Wallace and Jessie Carmanagh. The forensic ident team was still busy carefully sifting through soil on Axel Tollet’s property and trying to identify the bones they’d found there so far. At least four more victims had been discovered buried on Axel Tollet’s spread, including, as Holgersen had suspected, the remains of a street worker who’d vanished from Vancouver’s Downtown Eastside in 2002 and the remains of the female who’d disappeared near Blaine in Washington State in 2009 after her car had broken down on the highway. The other two bodies were yet to be identified. There was a feeling there might be more unearthed yet.
“How about meeting at Fisherman’s Wharf?” Claire said. “It’s such a nice day, and”—she paused—“this time I have someone I wantyouto meet.”
“Who?” Angie said, her interest immediately piqued.
“You’ll see. One hour?”
“I’ll be there.”
Angie shut down her work, grabbed her jacket, and headed to the elevator. When she reached the lobby of her apartment building and saw the fresh green leaves budding on the branches outside, the sun sparkling on the waters of the Gorge, she decided to walk.
By the time she reached Fisherman’s Wharf and was making her way down the gangway to the docks, she was famished, and Claire was already there waiting. Angie saw her immediately, sitting in a red jacket at a picnic table near the water’s edge, her long black hair shining in the sun, her back to Angie. But there was no one else with her.
Angie paused, wondering if the person she was supposed to meet had bailed.
“Hey,” Angie said as she approached the table.
Claire turned and grinned broadly. Angie blinked in surprise. Tucked down the front of Claire’s jacket was little hairy black face with liquid eyes. A Labrador pup with a red collar.
