Chapter 9: What the Record Shows
Dad made the call from a booth near the back of the diner, away from the table.
I watched him through the window of the booth — not close enough to hear, just close enough to see.
He stood with his cane in one hand and his phone in the other, and he talked for a long time.
At one point he put his hand flat against the glass partition of the booth and leaned his forehead against it.
At another point he laughed — a real laugh, short and surprised, the way he laughed when something caught him off guard.
When he came back to the table, he sat down and picked up his coffee cup.
It was cold.
He drank it anyway.
"How did he take it?" I asked.
"He said, and I'm quoting directly, 'Dad, I always thought the maintenance story was a little thin.'"
I laughed.
I couldn't help it.
"He's flying in tomorrow," Dad said.
"He wants to be here."
Director Marsh had used the hour to make calls of her own.
When Dad returned to the table, she was ready.
"I've spoken to the deputy director," she said.
"He's aware of the situation.
He's authorized a formal review, which means Victor's documents will be taken into evidence under a protected chain of custody." She looked at Victor.
"You and Ray will be placed in a secure location tonight.
Not a field office — a private residence we use for sensitive witnesses.
You'll be comfortable."
Victor looked at Ray.
Ray gave a small nod.
"All right," Victor said.
"The woman named in that document," Director Marsh continued, "has not been contacted and will not be contacted until the deputy director has reviewed the full record.
That review begins tomorrow morning." She paused.
"She doesn't know we have the documents yet."
"She will soon," Dad said.
"She has eyes in a lot of places."
"I know.
That's why the review is being handled by a team that reports directly to the deputy director and no one else." She looked at Dad.
"Your name will be part of the record.
There's no way around that.
But the deputy director has agreed that your operational file will remain sealed to the public.
What becomes part of the investigation record is separate from what becomes public."
"I understand."
"Do you want legal representation before this goes further?"
"I want to go home," he said.
"After it's done."
She nodded.
Captain Reeves came in from the parking lot.
He leaned down and said something quietly to Director Marsh.
She looked up.
"There's a car parked across the street," she said.
"It's been there since we arrived.
Reeves ran the plate."
"Whose is it?" Dad asked.
"Registered to a federal motor pool.
Which means either we have a tail from our own side, or someone borrowed a car they shouldn't have."
Dad looked at Victor.
"Did anyone follow you here?"
"Not that I saw.
But I'm not twenty-five anymore."
Ray spoke for the first time in an hour.
His voice was quiet and flat.
"There was a man at the counter when we arrived.
He left about ten minutes after you came in.
I didn't like how he left."
"How did he leave?" I asked.
"Like he'd already gotten what he came for."
Director Marsh was already on her phone.
She spoke for thirty seconds, listened, spoke again.
When she hung up, her expression was controlled.
"The car across the street just pulled away," she said.
"We have a team picking it up." She looked at Dad.
"We need to move Victor and Ray now.
And I need you somewhere secure tonight."
"I'm staying with my daughter," Dad said.
"Thomas—"
"I'm eighty-one years old and my granddaughter got married today.
I'm staying with my daughter." He looked at her with the same steady patience he'd had all day.
"Send a car if you need to.
But I'm not going to a safe house tonight."
Director Marsh looked at him for a long moment.
"There'll be an agent outside the house," she said.
"Fine."
Victor stood up.
He was slower than he looked, and Ray steadied him with one hand under his elbow — an automatic gesture, the kind that came from long practice.
Victor looked at my father.
"I should have called you first," he said.
"Instead of going through channels."
"You did what made sense," Dad said.
"You're here.
The documents are here.
That's what matters."
Victor put out his hand.
Dad shook it.
"The Shepherd," Victor said quietly.
Not mocking.
Something closer to relief.
"Go get some sleep, Victor," Dad said.
They left through the back.
Director Marsh followed, then turned at the door.
"Eight o'clock tomorrow," she said to Dad.
"The deputy director wants to speak with you directly."
"I'll be there."
She left.
Captain Reeves held the door.
Dad and I walked out into the Pittsburgh night.
The street was quiet.
The neon sign above us buzzed — the P still dark, the rest of the letters glowing a tired orange.
I unlocked the car.
We got in.
Neither of us spoke for a moment.
"Are you all right?" I asked.
He was looking out the windshield at the dark street.
"I've been carrying that for a long time," he said.
"I know."
"I want you to know that I would make the same choice again.
Staying quiet.
Protecting you and your brother." He turned to look at me.
"But I want you to also know that it cost something.
Every year.
It cost something."
I reached over and put my hand over his.
"I know, Dad."
He turned his hand over and held mine.
May you like
"Take me home," he said.
I started the car.
