Chapter Fourteen Margo Angelhart
Chapter Fourteen
Margo Angelhart
We took Mom’s Escalade to San Diego for two reasons: It was more comfortable than either my Jeep or Luisa’s two-seater pickup,
and if we got tired driving back to Phoenix, we could pull over and recline the cushy leather seats for a catnap.
But I was used to minimal sleep.
On the drive west, I was behind the wheel and Luisa was on her keyboard. She narrowed Nadine Pierce to two possibilities:
a VA doctor in Austin, Texas, or a psychiatrist with a private practice in New York City. The number Dad had called had a
San Francisco area code—415—and there were no Nadine Pierces listed in the greater San Francisco area. That didn’t mean anything
in the twenty-first century when people could take their cell phone number with them.
I called before we even left, but the voice mail was a generic computer message with no name attached. I left a simple message—my
name and number, nothing else. No one had called back, but I’d give her a day.
Angelhart wasn’t a common name. Whoever got the message would likely assume I was related to Cooper Angelhart, if they knew my dad.
Mostly, though, we were silent, listening to classic rock at a low volume. I didn’t mind the quiet, but Luisa had something
on her mind. I considered not pushing, figuring that on our way back to Phoenix I’d get her to talk.
We arrived at Georgia Rollins’s small Ocean Beach home at six thirty, a little later than I planned since we’d hit traffic
in San Diego. We quickly determined she wasn’t home. Mom had given us the address where she worked, but I doubted she was
still there, and if she were, I didn’t know if we could easily get past security. I didn’t care how late she was, I had no
intention of going home without speaking to her.
We walked back to the car, which we’d parked half a block away with a clear visual of Georgia’s house. We’d be able to see
any vehicle that approached.
Ten minutes of silence and I couldn’t wait until the ride home to ask Luisa what was bugging her. “What’s on your mind?”
Silence.
“Wow,” I said dryly. “That’s a lot.”
“I’m playing catchup,” Lu finally said.
“How so?”
“I left the Marines sixteen months ago. I wasn’t here when Dr. Klein was murdered. I missed Dad’s confession, your falling-out
with Mom, and the birth of Angelhart Investigations. Everyone treats me like an outsider. Which isn’t new. I’ve always been
the outsider. You, Jack, Tess, Nico—you were all close growing up. Then I came along seven years after Nico. The whoops baby.
I felt like an only child, except I wasn’t. And when everything fell apart, I wasn’t here. Again. I was just . . . an afterthought.”
Her voice was calm, but the pain in her tone stopped me. I saw her clearly now, maybe for the first time. She was right. When
she was born, we just folded her in and kept going.
She was much younger. She hadn’t been included in a lot of what we did growing up. I just hadn’t realized how much it hurt
her.
“I don’t think Mom and Dad saw you as a whoops baby.”
I shouldn’t have said that, but it was all I could think of.
Luisa sighed, staring out the window.
“No one meant to exclude you,” I added.
“No one told me about Dad until he was already in prison,” she said flatly. “Yeah, I was overseas, but I could’ve gotten leave.
I could’ve seen him before he surrendered.”
I thought about how furious I’d be if it had been me.
“I’m sorry,” I said quietly. “I didn’t think.”
“Mom should have. Dad should have.”
“Mom was a mess. But that’s no excuse.”
“I just feel . . . separate. Like I’m on the outside looking in.”
“We’ll do better. We’re not perfect, but we try.”
“It’s too late.”
That stung. “Really? That’s pretty fatalistic.”
“I’m twenty-five. I’m an adult. I don’t need to be included in everything.”
“You know,” I said after a pause, “I was always a little jealous of you.”
Lu snorted. “Right.”
“I’m not bullshitting you. Smartest kid, prettiest kid, and you got Mom and Dad all to yourself for years.”
“So?”
“None of us had their undivided attention. We were all born one after the other. Bang, bang, bang. We fought for every second
of their time. You didn’t have to. You just had it.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“It does. They love you. You’ve always been their pride and joy.”
“They love all of us,” she said, brushing it off.
“And they should. We’re great. But you’ve never come second, Lu. Not to them.”
She didn’t respond for a long minute. I could feel her pulling away, and I hated it. But I also got it. Big families are messy.
Loud. Full of strange hierarchies no one talks about until someone gets hurt.
“You’re all so close,” she whispered.
“Who?”
“You four.”
“We had to be. We shared a bathroom most of our lives. You know how many times I popped the lock on Jack while he was in the
shower because I had to pee? He hated me for it.”
“That’s exactly it!” she said, using her hands to drive home the point. “You have all these funny, chaotic memories. I was
just the kid on the sidelines. Shit. I guess I’m just feeling sorry for myself.”
“For what it’s worth,” I said, “you are the smartest of all of us. But more than that—you’re one of us. You’re an Angelhart. That’s never going to change.”
“Thank you,” she said softly. “I’m working on it.”
I wish I knew what to say or do to convince Luisa that she was wrong. Except . . . maybe she wasn’t completely wrong. She
knew we all loved her, she knew she was an Angelhart, she was simply mourning not being part of a group we didn’t realize
we had created. That wasn’t something I could fix overnight.
I glanced at the car dash. The digital clock showed 7:55. We’d gained an hour driving to California because Arizona didn’t participate in Daylight Savings Time, so it was only 6:55 p.m. San Diego time. Georgia lived on a side street without a lot of cross traffic.
Less than five minutes later lights turned down the street. I watched.
“That’s her,” I said when I saw the headlines disappear as the car turned onto her driveway. “Count to fifty, then we approach.”
We waited, then got out of the car and walked half a block to her house.
I knocked on the door. Georgia answered.
“Hello, Georgia,” I said.
She stared at me. “Well, shit.”
“Your mom told me that Liz Swanson was murdered yesterday,” Georgia said.
We sat in the cramped living room of her very clean but tiny house. It was smaller than mine. But I didn’t live a short walk
to the beach. The open windows brought in the sound of the ocean two blocks away, a soft, steady hush meant to soothe. I wasn’t
soothed. I wanted answers.
“Yes,” I said bluntly. “She was on her way to meet me.”
Georgia shrugged, her dark eyes flicking toward the window, but not before I caught the gleam of tears.
“You told Liz to call me,” I said.
“Yeah,” she said quietly.
“Why?”
She didn’t say anything at first, but I could see that she was struggling. Maybe I should be more sensitive. I was willing
to give her the moment, but I wasn’t going to let her avoid my questions.
Then she said, “Liz was a friend.” Her voice cracked and she cleared her throat.
“More than a friend, really. Like, a big sister. I’m not close to my family, and Liz is so friendly and supportive.
She trained me when I started at the VA.
It was my first job. We used to have coffee together a couple times a week.
She’s the one who told me about Devin’s assistant position opening because she knew that’s what I wanted to do.
I hated being a nurse. I’m not a people person. ”
She didn’t have to tell me that, but I didn’t comment.
“She gave me a recommendation. I loved that job, and I loved working for Devin. I learned so much . . .” Her voice trailed
off and then she shook her head as if to clear the memories. “Anyway, we kept in touch over the last three years. Just Christmas
cards and check-ins. She was worried about me because I quit abruptly, and I didn’t tell her anything, because I knew there
was something wonky going on. After you tracked me down in Tucson, I started thinking again.”
When she stopped, I said, “Thinking about what?”
“Just . . . you reminded me that the real killer was still out there. I mean, I didn’t know it. I almost convinced myself that Dr. Cooper was guilty because it was much easier to believe that than to think that there
was a killer who might come after me.”
She paused again, but this time I didn’t push. She would tell me her story in her own way, and if it wasn’t to my satisfaction,
I would ask more questions.
“I was just his assistant, no one really knew me. My job was mostly analytical and clerical. Thinking I was in danger seemed
ridiculous, but I also knew that Devin was becoming obsessed with a drug trial he was certain had been falsified.” She paused.
“I wondered if I should have told you when you found me in Tucson. Instead, I called Ava. I told her I didn’t tell you anything,
but the next day she showed up at my work, furious I’d even spoken to you. I assured her I told you just enough that you would
go away, which is exactly what she had told me to do.”
I was getting angry all over again at my mom.
I was about to ask about Nadine, when Georgia continued.
“She offered to get me a new identity, a job out of state. I wanted to tell her to shove it, but she pointed out something I’d been intentionally avoiding.
If the people behind Devin’s death found out I might know something more about it because of your investigation—” she flung her wrist toward me “—then I was in danger too. Even though I don’t know who or why or how.
I just know that Devin was looking into the data of this drug trial he had several patients involved in. ”
“Do you think she was right?” I asked. “That you might be in danger?”
Georgia got up and went to the kitchen. It was only a couple feet away. She put on a teakettle. “Tea? I don’t drink coffee.”
“No thanks,” I said. I glanced at Luisa sitting next to me, and she shook her head.