Epilogue
State attorney Abe Beckham was true to his word. No charges were brought against anyone for the staging of Owen Pollard’s
suicide.
C. J. Vandermeer was not so lucky. A blood test confirmed what Elliott had believed all along, since Elle’s first look at
her baby: Austen’s biological parents were a couple of curious teenagers who’d willingly lost their virginity in the back
seat of a parked car. The scientific confirmation changed everything. Finally, Elliott was able to press charges against CJ
without any risk of labeling Austen “the son of a rapist.” CJ was arrested for sexual battery of a minor, a first-degree felony
punishable by up to thirty years in prison. The open question was whether it would be purely a matter of Elliott’s word against
CJ’s. Jack discussed it with his client in his office after CJ’s arrest.
“I can be a fact witness, if needed,” said Jack. “I would testify as to what CJ said in my office.”
“Will that be enough to convict him?” asked Elliott.
“An admission seven years after the crime is still an admission. Granted, testimony from a witness who was there the night
it happened would be better.”
“If you mean my mother, fat chance she’ll do anything to help me.”
“You never know,” said Jack. “I never fully understood why CJ went to such lengths to avoid testifying at your bail hearing.
I think it was Serena who made that happen.”
“I don’t disagree,” said Elliott. “But she didn’t do it to help me. Raising doubts to get me released on bail helped her. She needed at least one of us on the outside for her blackmail to work. Not that I was willing to go along.”
“She might still come around and help you on the sexual battery,” said Jack.
“Why would she?”
“My assumption is that the state attorney will tell her she can be a witness for the prosecution or a codefendant charged
as an accomplice to sexual battery. Serena will make the smart choice.”
“I hope you’re right,” said Elliott.
He thanked Jack one more time, and Jack walked him to the reception area. They stopped at the front door.
“Have you and Helena come to an understanding about Austen?”
“I’d say we are in agreement so far,” said Elliott.
“So far?”
“We agreed not to take any next steps until the calls from the media stop. It’s a private matter, so our decision will be
made in private.”
“I hope it works out for you.”
“For Austen,” said Elliott.
“Yeah,” Jack said. “For Austen.”
They said goodbye. Elliott started out, then stopped. “You might want to lock the door after I leave,” he said with a wry
smile.
“Good tip,” said Jack. “Take care of yourself, Elliott.”
“I will,” he said.
Jack watched as his client walked down the porch steps and continued to his car. And he kept watching until the car pulled
out of the driveway and Elliott was well on his way.
Andie paid her second visit to Cy’s Place without Jack. Theo was working behind the U-shaped bar, and she took an empty stool
all the way at the far end, away from the other patrons, where she could speak without being overheard. Theo wasn’t on the
FBI’s “need to know” list, but when it came to Operation P-P-P, he was definitely on Andie’s “deserves to know” list.
“C. J. Vandermeer has a long list of problems with the law,” she said. “But he’s not going to be charged with gunrunning.”
Theo was filling her glass with club soda from the soft-drink dispenser and stopped cold. “Why the hell not?”
“It turns out CJ didn’t know what Baptiste was doing with the guns he purchased from VanPoll Enterprises.”
Theo mulled it over. “Makes sense, I guess. If CJ knew his company was running guns to Haiti, he wouldn’t have invited Jack
and me inside the plant for a tour the way he did. But somebody had to know.”
“Yeah. Owen Pollard.”
Theo squeezed a lemon wedge into her soda. “From the grave?”
“No. Owen and Baptiste had a long-term supply agreement. This has been going on for over a year. That’s why you found yourself
on the FBI radar when you and Jack went to visit the plant and then you went to CJ’s training class.”
“You just said CJ wasn’t involved.”
“The FBI didn’t know at the time. Operation P-P-P was watching him when you started buddying up to him. When the FBI checked
you out and discovered you had a warehouse full of barrels in the foreign trade zone, you came under suspicion before you
even met Baptiste.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve been kinda under suspicion since the day I was born. But tell me this: Why did Owen do this deal with Baptiste
and hide it from CJ?”
“CJ controlled the company—fifty-one percent owner. It was entirely up to him how much Owen took home in salary and profit
distributions, which was apparently peanuts. Owen signed the agreements with Baptiste as an officer of VanPoll, but most of
the money was paid under the table—and went straight into Owen’s pocket.”
“That’s why I’ll never have a partner,” Theo said with a smile. He topped off her club soda. “You want something stronger
than that?”
“No, thanks. I have to get home. But before I go, I wanted to say thank you.”
“For working with the FBI?”
“No. For the advice you gave me. That Jack and I ‘help each other.’”
“Ah, you don’t need to thank me. Hell, I don’t even know what I meant by that. ‘Help each other.’ What kind of advice is that?”
“Good advice,” she said.
“Okay. You tell me what it means when you figure it out.”
“I will,” she said, as she climbed down from her bar stool. “After I tell Jack.”
Jack spent Saturday morning outside, on his deck, preparing for the noon celebration.
It was Righley’s birthday, two dozen friends were invited, and she wanted balloons for her party—“Lots and lots of balloons.”
By 11 a.m., Jack was on the third tank of helium, his fifth spool of string, and his tenth bag of balloons. So many floating
balloons of every color imaginable were tethered to the wood railings that it seemed the deck might lift off and float over
the bay behind their house.
“Daddy, more balloons!” Righley shouted.
“Working on it,” said Jack.
She slid open the glass door and went inside. Andie stepped out and joined him on the deck. She’d been in a funk the last
few days, but not about Theo. She couldn’t share all the details with Jack, but she’d made a connection with a teenage girl
on her busted undercover assignment. A friend in the Seattle field office had promised to follow up, but the girl went missing.
Not all endings are happy. If it was an ending. It would come as no surprise to Jack if Andie were to negotiate her way through
the FBI bureaucracy and back to Seattle to find her.
Jack tied a cluster of inflated balloons to the corner post and then sat in the Adirondak chair next to her. The tank was
between them.
“We need to talk,” Andie said in a helium voice.
Jack laughed—probably harder than he should have, but such ominous words in such a silly voice struck him as hilarious. And it was good to see that the party had rekindled Andie’s sense of humor.
“Your turn,” she said in a normal voice.
Jack inhaled. “Honey, I shrunk my voice!”
Andie grabbed the hose, took another hit, and said, “Wanna make a baby?”
Jack laughed.
She took another hit. “Jack, please, I’m being serious!”
It was in her helium voice, but she wasn’t laughing. Or smiling. She was serious.
“Really?” said Jack.
She set the helium hose aside. “Righley’s now at an age where it would be like having another ‘only child.’ But what’s wrong
with that?”
Jack needed to catch his breath. It wasn’t completely out of the blue. They had planned on having more children, but they
hadn’t really talked about it in over two years, not since a gunshot wound and sudden loss of blood had caused Andie to miscarry
in the second trimester.
Jack leaned closer and kissed her. “I think it’s a great idea. If you’re ready.”
“I’m ready.”
Jack smiled. “We’ll start tonight.”
“Well, I need to go off the pill for more than twelve hours. I don’t think it works that fast.”
Jack inhaled more helium. “Practice makes perfect,” he said, sounding like a chipmunk.
Andie laughed, and they kissed again.
“Eww, gross,” Righley said from the open doorway, and then the birthday girl went back inside.