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...?"