Page 117 of In the Air Tonight

“Are people giving you a hard time about being involved with this?”

“Here and there. It’s nothing I can’t handle. I did my job. I’d do it again. Information was conveyed to me, and I passed it along to the proper authorities. If people don’t like that, there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“Would it have been easier for you to tell me there was nothing you could do with the information at this point? Because if you had, I would’ve believed you.”

I can tell she’s struggling, so I level with her. “Yeah, it would’ve been easier. My brother is furious with me over this, but I told him the same thing I told you. I did my job.”

“That means he’s probably furious with me, too. I’m sure a lot of people are.”

“You said you don’t care what anyone thinks of you.”

“I don’t. It’s just a lot to process.”

“I understand.” I really need to get to work trying to find that key, but I wait to see if there’s anything else she wants to talk about.

“Do you think I’m in serious danger?”

“I’d like to say no, but people do crazy things when they’re desperate, and who knows what’ll happen now that he’s been arrested. You need to be careful, and if you ever feel unsafe, you can call me. I’ll be there within minutes.”

“Thank you for that. Maybe I should go back to New York until I have to testify.”

“Is that what you want to do?”

She hesitates before she shakes her head. “I’m having a very nice time with Jack.” Her face turns bright red as she says that.

“I’m glad for you both.”

“It’s been a surprising development in the midst of this other stuff.”

“I’m sure.”

“Well, I’ll let you get to work. Thanks for everything, Houston.”

“You’re welcome. Keep your head down and stay focused on the goal.”

“I will.”

“Do you want me to walk you back to your car?”

“Would you mind?”

“Not at all.”

Fifteen minutes later, I return to the clearing and fire up the metal detector, hoping to find a key that was lost there fourteen years ago. The day is unusually warm for this time of year, and when I start to sweat, I toss my jacket aside and roll up my sleeves. I’m at it for two hours before I get a hit. Crouching over the spot, I put on a latex glove to run my hand over years’ worth of leaves and brush and connect with a solid object thatI withdraw from under the brush. A Honda key. It’s covered in moss and other growth, but the silver H logo stands out, nonetheless.

I hold it up to the light for a closer look and then drop it into an evidence bag.

As I’m heading back to my SUV, my parents arrive home from dentist appointments. It amuses me that they do such things together as retirees.

Mom gives me a kiss on the cheek as she goes into the house, talking on the phone. “Aunt Betty says hello.”

“Tell her hi from me.”

“Did you find the key?” Dad asks.

“I did.”

“That’s good. What’s the next move?”

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