Page 62 of 3rd Tango
Mr. Bronson’s words are simple, but that flat, monotone sound conveys so much more.
Matt glances up. “You weren’t a fan?”
“From the get-go something was off. I sure as hell didn’t know he was a criminal. When Ev left with him, I figured she’d be back. That it was a temporary thing. She said she wanted to travel. See the country. How the hell did I know her boyfriend was robbing banks?”
I check out another page. All Evelyn and Chris. “How did you find out?”
“The night he got killed. I saw his picture on the news. About had a stroke.”
“Did you think she was involved?” Matt asks.
“I was more worried she might’ve gotten killed along with him. I called the FBI right away. It took them a day to get back to me. Imagine that? A whole damned day. I told the agent who contacted me she was Svenson’s girlfriend. They said it looked like she’d bugged out. That if I heard from her, I was to call them. Eventually, they told me the cash was still missing. They thought she took off with it. Maybe left the country.”
I try to imagine what that might feel like and cannot. Listening to a federal agent tell you your sister has absconded with stolen money from multiple bank robberies.
“Did you ever hear from her?”
“No. But I also didn’t think she took it. It wasn’t her style. And she’d lived with our parents until she met Svenson. What did she know about being on her ownandon the run? She’d never even paid an electric bill.”
The room falls silent and Matt turns another page. I’m thankful for the distraction as I’m not quite sure what to say next. I skim the left side. More photos of Evelyn and Svenson. I remind myself to check for bank robberies in Niagara Falls. See if the dates match what’s on the photos. I move to the next page and—hello—a photo of Evelyn and another woman, a platinum blonde stops me cold.
Three photos.
The women at a bonfire. They’re smiling and holding paper cups up in a toast. In one, Evelyn beams, the light from the fire reflecting her luminous skin. She looks absolutely ethereal while the woman next to her is…not. In her I sense a hardness. Her smile, although wide, hits me more as a tight sneer.
Dimple. Left cheek.
I move closer, then finally lift the binder so I can study the album. And dimple.
The platinum blond hair—and something else, the eyes maybe— throw me off, but…her.
Across from us, Mr. Bronson shifts, craning his neck to see what captured my attention. “That’s her friend. Mary. They went to high school together.”
Mary.
Marie.
The names are so close. If this was indeed Marie, would she have taken a name so similar to her own while living on the run?
“Mary,” Matt says, “huh. Did she, by any chance, leave with Evelyn?”
Bronson nods. “Yeah. She was dating one of Svenson’s buddies. That was a big part of it. They wanted to see the country and figured they’d do it together.” He circles his hand in the air. “My sister and her romantic dreams. She figured it’d be some kind of fairy tale. Her best friend on the road with her.”
Romantic dreams notwithstanding, in my twenties, I’d have done it. Just taken off to see the world. Crazy how life changes us, forces us to grow up. “Where’s Mary now?”
Bronson shrugs. “No idea. She went missing with Evelyn. Last I heard, the FBI was looking for both of ‘em.”
As soon as we arrive back at the office, I close my door, tell Haley only to enter if someone is dead and settle in at my desk. I borrowed a couple photos of Mary from Mr. Bronson, promising to return them tomorrow.
I need them for an age progression.
My office is blissfully quiet and I close my eyes for a solid minute, centering myself and rolling the tension from my shoulders.
Typically, I’ll play classical music while I work, but today, for whatever reason, silence calls to me. I go with it and lay the photos of Marie in front of me, studying the various expressions. A smile, a frown, drawn in brows that, over time, if repeated enough, will leave their stamp.
I grab my favorite sketchpad and pencil and draw a circle in the center of the page. Underneath, I quickly add the chin, cheeks and jawline. It’s not perfect, but I don’t need that.
Guidelines down the center and across the face come next. I glance at the photos, then add almond shaped eyes, skinny eyebrows, and a narrow nose.
