May 23, 2009 00:53
The phone rang.
"O'Connell."
"Funny, that's my name. Do you often discover strange coincidences like this, Marshal?"
She sighed. "Hilarious. Is there a reason you're calling me at work? I do have a home phone."
"The one you never check the messages for?"
"I've got a cell phone, too."
"The voicemail is full." His tone was dry.
"Is it? Shit. I was wondering why Henderson hadn't returned my call." Computer keys clacked in the background.
"One could start to think it was a crime to want to talk to his sister, the way she's been avoiding it."
"Well, Brother, I'm sorry. It's just...I've been busy lately."
"So I gathered. Not with anything overtly troubling, I hope." He sounded absently concerned.
"I guess if you don't call dealing with fugitives and federal investigations troubling...no. I'd tell you more, but it's all open cases. What about you?" She sounded vaguely suspicious.
"Maybe I shouldn't say, if you're at work."
"You know, I helped you get that work permit to work in Mexico, not to sell crap to tourists in Tijuana and cheat people out of their money with shell games," she snapped.
"I am hard at work, Sister. In fact, are you busy tonight? There's something I need to talk to you about."
"You're in town? Tonight? It must be big if you came back all this way. I can probably hack it, with all the overtime I've been pulling lately. What's going on?"
"I think I found Mom."
There was a long silence, punctuated only by static on the connection.
"Brother. What are you talking about? Mom's dead. We kind of know where she is."
"I'm not entirely sure she is. Dead, I mean."
"This isn't funny. Are you trying to tell me that Dad lied to us every day until he died? He's buried next to her." She slapped her hand down on her desk, loud enough for him to hear over the line.
"I'm trying to tell you that things are not always what they seem to be."
"Don't try and con me. Don't give me that 'magical medicine man' shit. You know I don't like it, and it's fucking disrespectful."
"I'm serious, Sister. I'm sorry, I don't mean to sound like a stage act. It's habit, at this point. Would you rather I talked to Jenny?"
"Don't you dare. She was just a baby."
"She's thirty. I think she could handle it." That same dry sarcasm again.
"She doesn't remember any of it. I said I'd come, I will. Meet me at home?"
"I thought I'd take you to dinner. It's less likely you'll scream at me if we're in public."
She snorted. "Thanks for your confidence in me. I'll see you at six."
"Six it is."
Deputy Marshal Bird Izumi O'Connell hung up the phone.