A state trooper-the sergeant in command-paused in his interview of me to watch the car drive off. “Cold-blooded son of a bitch, isn’t he?”
I nodded. “How did you know to look in the barn?”
“Some woman came running up as we were checking the crowd, said she’d heard gunshots.”
“She still here?”
“I asked her to stay put, but one of my men just told me she took off. Probably didn’t want to get all tangled up in this.”
I took a deep breath of the fresh night air, wondering where Susan Pendergast was headed now and what would become of her. She was certainly no saint, but if the world let her keep her secrets, she still had much to offer. I knew I’d do my part-she’d gained my respect and my vote for another chance. I’d drop the investigation where it was and let Brandt sort out the public relations.
Unfortunately, Susan would never know that for sure, any more than she’d know whether Bonatto now considered the slate clean or still wanted her dead.
It made me wonder how much longer she’d keep paying the price of freedom, and whether, someday, she’d ever question the value of all her efforts. I hoped, for her sake and for those who stood to benefit from her talents, that she’d keep on fighting.
“I don’t know, Sergeant. Maybe she thought she’d done the best she could.”