Epilogue
Hope and I sat in my car outside the prison building. She had her face turned to the heavens, eyes clenched shut, much like her fists. I knew her well enough to wait silently.
With a less demonstrative exclamation and a mild expletive, she was back with me.
"I'm sorry, Bill. That was so fucking difficult. But I'm glad. I'm glad I got some closure. Thank you."
"Anytime." I meant it. Though my hopes for me and her had all but died, I knew that I'd always do anything for Hope.
"Anytime?" Something in Hope's voice had me paying close attention.
Without waiting for my reply, she continued. "As this is my day for ripping off Band Aids, there is one other thing."
I waited again, knowing that she'd get to the point eventually.
"Abebe. His... his sister made contact. She... she wants to talk to me."
"Is she local?"
"Yeah, thirty minutes. I checked." She smiled sheepishly at me, that smile always led to Hope wrapping me round her little finger.
"OK, send me the address."
While I was plugging my phone into the car and pulling up the directions, Hope messaged Abebe's sister. She received a reply before I had touched the shifter.
Hope read her screen, then spoke. "She's free now, let's go."
As we left the prison, Ashley wanted to add something else. "Bill... after I've done this. After I've tied up this last thing. Can we... maybe talk?"
I knew what was coming, of course. I'd resigned myself to it days, if not weeks, ago. The 'friends' talk. Well, I figured friends was better than nothing.
"Sure, Hope. Of course. Do you want to grab something on the way, I'm kinda hungry."
She nodded, and I turned onto the road, heading for the woman's house, via whatever eatery we happened to pass first.
A pretty, but somewhat careworn, black woman around Hope's age answered the door and invited us in. Hope explained who I was, then offered the customary, "sorry for your loss," and I added my condolences.
Abebe's sister was called Amara, she'd not adopted a westernized name like Eric. Her surname was Edwards, and she was married to a guy working in some sort of entertainment business. We didn't ask too many questions after she apologized for him being absent.
And then it was her who asked the questions. What had Abebe been like to work with? How had he been viewed by the Service? Had he and Hope been friends? Hope fielded all of these inquiries calmly until the inevitable one was asked.
"And his death, Deputy Molinera, I got a letter from the Marshals, and a phone call, but could you...?"
Hope breathed deeply. "Your brother was a good Deputy, and more importantly a fine man. I was lucky to know him. To have him as a partner and a friend."
She paused and collected herself. "For a long time, up until very recently, I thought he died because I let him down. I thought it was all my fault."
Hope looked at Amara, but she gave no sign of what she was thinking or feeling. "But now... now, I still feel some responsibility for it, but I have figured out that we were both caught up in other people's sick games. I can't tell you everything. But, of the two people directly responsible, one is dead, I killed him myself. And the other is in jail, and never likely to be released. Both Bill and I helped with that. I know nothing I say can bring Eric back, but he has finally got some sort of justice."
Amara had tears running down her face, but was otherwise still.
Hope reached out and took her hand. "And there is more. Even at the end, when he knew it was over for him, he still saved me. I wouldn't be here today if not for him."
These words seemed to break something in our host and she began to sob. Hope knelt in front of Amara and embraced her. "I'm so sorry, Amara. So very sorry."
There was not much more to say. Amara thanked us for coming, thanked Hope for her honesty. We promised to visit again before we headed back to the East Coast.
Back in the car, I could see Hope was weeping. I put a hand on her shoulder and she leaned her cheek against it.
Raising her head again, she stared through the windshield. "I have felt such guilt. Such overwhelming guilt. It's eaten away at me, Bill. I don't think it will ever go away. But maybe, maybe after Ashley, I can live with it. Forgive myself a little even. And I've done my best to honor his memory."
"That you have, Hope. We all screw up, you did what you could to make things right. That's the most important thing."
"Make things right." This phrase seemed to land with Hope. "Yeah, that's what I need to do. That's what I need to talk to you about."