Chapter Six Margo Angelhart
Chapter Six
Margo Angelhart
I paced the length of the living room as I told Cal everything. Every lead, every failure over the last three and a half years.
Mostly, there were dead ends. Sharing with someone who didn’t question or judge felt cathartic.
I’d never told anyone, not even Uncle Rafe, everything I’d done since Dad went to prison. Until now. Cal sat on my couch and
just listened to me half rant as I questioned and second-guessed what I’d done and learned.
I’d dug through every file, every rumor, every name connected to the VA, searching for proof that my father was innocent,
or, God help me, guilty. But there was nothing. No footage from the wing where my father found Dr. Klein’s body and called
911 while trying to save his life. Few people had been around that late at night, and no one I could question. The police
would never have charged Dad because there was no evidence against him—except that he confessed. And gave them the murder
weapon.
How the hell did he have the murder weapon?
I said as much to Cal, but didn’t wait for him to respond before explaining that no one the police interviewed had heard a gunshot.
There was likely a suppressor on the gun, but my father didn’t turn in a suppressor.
I’d read the police report over and over until I could practically quote it verbatim.
They had never asked him if he used a suppressor.
And then I launched into the years of dead ends, years where I did little for Dad because I had other cases and no real leads . . .
until I found Georgia Rollins working in Tucson. I told him about the wild-goose chase she’d sent me on.
I told him about waiting for Liz Swanson to show up, how I sensed something was wrong when she was late, the emergency vehicles
that my gut screamed were for her. By the time I recounted the conversation with my father and the fight with my mother, I
was physically drained and emotionally exhausted.
“We’re going to the prison tomorrow morning,” I said. “I don’t know if my dad is going to tell me the truth, or keep his mouth
shut. Not knowing is worse than anything. Hell, I’d almost prefer he just tell me he killed Dr. Klein and why, then make me
believe it!”
I didn’t tell Cal I felt guilty for everything that had happened today. But somehow he knew anyway.
“None of this is your fault, Margo,” he said.
“I’m not so sure,” I muttered. “The timing of Liz’s conversation with Georgia is after I talked to her, I’m almost certain, but I have nothing to back that up. Was it an accidental meeting? Or did Georgia seek
her out? If I’d left it alone—never found Georgia, never pressed her for information—Liz might still be alive.”
“Really?” Cal’s voice sharpened; I was surprised to hear the anger. “Because Liz might’ve told someone else about the suspicious
records. Or maybe she was killed not for calling you but for accessing the file that disappeared.”
What he said made sense, but I wasn’t ready to let go of the guilt.
I stared out into the dark backyard. The only light came from the white bulbs strung along the edge of the patio. My reflection in the window looked like a ghost. What had I missed? Because I had to have missed something. The truth was out there, but I couldn’t see it.
“My mom,” I said quietly, sighed and rubbed my eyes.
Cal didn’t push as I worked through more emotions than I expected.
“I’ve never seen her like this,” I said after a moment. “She’s faced killers and rapists in court, and until now, I have never
seen her scared. She said ‘they,’ like there’s some big conspiracy behind Dr. Klein’s death. She knows more, I’m sure of it.
She said if they thought she knew what my dad knew, she’d already be dead. How do you believe something like that and act normal for three
and a half years?”
Even as I said it, doubt crept in. She hadn’t been normal, not really. She’d been adamant I stop investigating. Furious when
I found Georgia in February. We’d fought and not spoken for months. That wasn’t normal at all. Sure, the arguing was normal,
that was par for the course while I was growing up, but it would end after a day or two and we’d be fine.
How did she know I had spoken to Georgia at all? I don’t know why I didn’t think about it at the time. I’d denied it and she
knew I was lying and I didn’t care. But now, in hindsight, there was something very bizarre about that whole exchange.
“Do you think your parents were threatened?” Cal asked. “And that’s why your dad confessed?”
“I honestly don’t know what to think.” But when he said it, coupled with what Mom said this afternoon, it seemed logical.
He patted the couch beside him. “Come here.”
I sat down, more from exhaustion than obedience, leaning into him without meaning to.
“I’m glad you’re here,” I said.
“You’re not getting rid of me.” He kissed the top of my head. “But you need to be careful. Until you know what’s really going on, you don’t know where the danger is.”
“I am. I will.”
“It’s not the threats you can see that scare me,” he said quietly. “It’s the ones you can’t.”
He was right. All I had was my training, my instincts, and while I had never doubted either in years, I felt that they’d failed
me this time.
“Did you tell Jack?” Cal asked.
“Not yet. After Mom and I talk to Dad, once I have some answers, I’ll call a family meeting.”
“Right now I don’t think the Swansons’ killer knows you’re involved,” Cal said. “But the more questions you ask, the more
you put a target on your back.”
“Are you going to go all overprotective Neanderthal on me?”
“Well,” he said lightly, “I suspect Neanderthal women were pretty self-sufficient.”
I grunted. I wasn’t in the mood for jokes, but I did grant him a small smile.
“But yeah,” he added softly. “I am protective of you. Because I care. About you, about what you’re doing, about how this hurts
you. Whatever you need, whenever you need it, I’m here.”
I exhaled, tension sliding out of me just enough for me to wrap an arm around his chest. My head found his shoulder, and he
held me, his hand running up and down my arm. I felt myself relaxing even more, in spite of everything.
“I don’t know what I need,” I said. “My mind’s spinning. I wish I could go to the prison tonight and tell my dad that I’m
not leaving until I know what he knows.”
“When do you leave?”
“I’m picking Mom up at eight.”
“Then you have a plan.”
“Talk to my dad. Force him to tell me the truth.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“Mom will be there. She promised to make him talk. She knows, Cal. Maybe not every detail, but she knows why he pled guilty.”
“Why protect a killer? If it’s not your father, why would he protect anyone? Who would your parents protect?”
I opened my mouth to say I don’t know, but then I hesitated.
“What?” Cal pressed. “What were you going to say?”
“That I don’t know why or who, but I just thought now that maybe they don’t actually know who killed Dr. Klein.”
“Why go to prison for a ghost?” he muttered.
“That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it.” I sat up, turning to face him. “I’m really glad you’re here.”
“So you’ve said.”
He reached out, fingers brushing my face. I closed my eyes and leaned into his hand. His warmth steadied me.
But when I opened my eyes again, the dark outside the window looked deeper, the shadows heavier. Somewhere in that darkness
was a truth my father had traded his freedom for. Not only his freedom and life, but my mom’s happiness and security. Our
whole family had suffered because of his lie.
And someone was willing to kill again to keep the truth buried.