Page 128 of You'll Never Find Me

“He’s not going to turn himself in,” Jack said, “especially if there is no evidence of crimes he’s committed.”

“I don’t expect him to. But maybe he agrees to put everything down and we release it upon his death? Like a death-bed confession? Mom would know how to put it together.”

“If she has specific knowledge of a crime that has been committed, she has to go to the court,” Tess said.

“Then he makes the video without her in the room,” I said. “Look, they’re leaving tomorrow. What are we supposed to do? Call the cops and have him arrested? For what?”

Mom came into the room and surprised me by saying, “I agree with Margo.”

We all looked at her.

“I just got off the phone with the AUSA in Florida. There is no open investigation into Vincent Bonetti. My friend didn’t know the name. He knew about the Leone crime family, but said they disbanded after the patriarch died a few years ago. They had never been able to build a solid case against any of them, and shelved the investigation when Bonetti’s father-in-law died.”

“Jennifer said her father was responsible for a nightclub bombing,” Jack said. “I looked it up. Eight people were killed. Eight. Only three of those eight were known to be criminals, the others were innocent bystanders. And even if they were all criminals, that’s vigilante justice.”

“We have no evidence,” Mom said, “and neither does Jennifer. If the FBI opens an investigation into Bonetti, we’ll cooperate. But ultimately, it’s only Jennifer’s statement that her father was behind the bombing, and she doesn’t have firsthand knowledge.”

Sometimes the system worked.

And sometimes it didn’t.

Thirty minutes later, Thomas and Vincent walked out of the conference room. I glanced through the open door to make sure Jennifer was still in there and in good health. She sat at the table, head in her hands, her face splotchy from tears that no longer ran.

Vincent took first Mom’s hand, then Jack’s, then mine. “Thank you.”

“And?” I asked.

“Virginia has asked for tonight. I recognize it’s a lot to ask of her, but I must be in Wyoming for a doctor’s appointment tomorrow afternoon. I have a private plane and we’re leaving at eight in the morning. I gave Virginia the details. Whatever decision she makes, I’ll respect.”

Thomas didn’t look like he felt the same. “Dad, you need to go back to the hotel and rest. It’s been a long day.” He nodded to us, then steered his father out the door.

My mom watched them leave, then went into the conference room to check on Jennifer. I followed; Jack and Tess didn’t. I guess I was always the nosy kid of the family.

Mom sat next to Jennifer and immediately the girl turned to hug her. “I don’t know what to do,” she said.

“What did your father say?”

“He has about six months to live. Stage four pancreatic cancer, like you said. He went through chemo already, doesn’t want to do it again. Tommy showed me pictures of the ranch. It’s beautiful. Sheep, horses, a heated chicken pen. Tommy’s going to stay, even after dad d-d-dies.” She took a deep breath. “He wants to work with his hands, and he loves animals. I didn’t know—he wanted to be a veterinarian. Went to school for it, but when dad got sick, he quit, to take care of him. They planned to move to Wyoming because dad pulled out of the business and there were people trying to get him back in. And then they found out I was alive.”

She took a deep breath, the conflict in her expression real.

“He wants me to forgive him so he can die in peace. I do—but—I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore. Everything I believed is true—his business, what happened to my mother, my best friend, everything. For the first time, he told me the truth, and it hurts. But I love him. And I hate him. And I don’t know.”

“You don’t hate him,” Mom said quietly. “He is your father, and he treated you with love even though he’s done some horrific things. But he loves you and your brother and I believe he wants to make up for raising you in a violent life. For your mother, for your friend. I don’t know if I could forgive him if I were in your shoes, but I would definitely try. Because forgiveness is for your soul, not his.”

When Jennifer didn’t say anything, Mom said, “Do you believe he will hurt you? Physically hurt you?”

She shook her head. “No. He never did before. I was scared because of the people around him, what happens to people he loves.”

“Very understandable. Do you believe that he told you the truth tonight?”

She didn’t respond at first, tears in her eyes. “Yes,” she finally said. “I do. Do you think Tommy can forgive me? For making him believe I was dead?”

“Sweetheart, he already has.”

How my mom knew that, I didn’t know. But when she said it, I knew she was right.

“I don’t know what to do,” Jennifer said, clearly miserable. “He should pay for his crimes, but he’s dying. I want to forgive him, but...” She started crying and Mom reached out and pulled the young women to her again.

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