It was four thirty when Helen Meeker returned the Packard to impound. By that time she’d contacted Carole Hall. The woman, who was very upset with the FBI for pulling Meeker from the case, assured the agent that neither she nor George had any interest in keeping the sedan. Then, after a soft thank-you, she hung up.
The life she’d loved was over. She’d figured in time it would be. Even though she was being sent packing, she felt good about her work. Yet, the fact that she’d never closed the case on Rose Hall’s kidnapping would, as Reese had warned so many weeks before, haunt her for the rest of her life.
“Here you go,” Meeker said, tossing the keys to the attendant. “It goes up at the next auction. The owner’s address is in the file on the seat. Send the money to her.”
“Got it,” Jinx Stally replied. Dressed in blue coveralls and wearing a Cubs baseball hat, his eyes moved from the woman to the car and back. He seemed to falter for a moment before clearing his throat and choking out, “We’ll miss you. I know what I think doesn’t matter a bit to old J. Edgar, but you were one of the best the FBI had.”
She glanced back to the sixty-year-old man, noted a bit of moisture in his clear blue eyes and a look of genuine affection etched into his wrinkled face. “Thanks, Jinx. And it might not mean anything to Hoover, but it sure does to me.”
Reese was waiting outside to take her back to her hotel room. She had a reservation on the 7:30 train back to Washington, so she needed to get moving. Pulling her coat closer to her body to fend off the strong, frigid lake wind, she nodded at Jinx, stepped outside the garage and into the fading sunset. Fighting tears, she had just about made her way to the passenger side of the agent’s car when it hit her. Opening the door, she looked across to the man and said, “I forgot something. I’ll be right back.”
Retracing her steps, she walked back through the garage door just before Jinx was about to close it. Hurrying as fast as her black pumps would allow, she moved to the Packard’s front passenger door, grabbed the handle, gave a twist, and felt the door spring open. Pulling it back, she looked at the familiar interior one more time.
Setting her purse on the seat, she searched through the contents. Below her billfold and gloves, almost hiding under an address book, was something she needed to return to its place. After fishing out the magnetic, toy Scotty dogs from her bag, she snapped her purse shut. She clutched the twin playthings in her fist for a few moments as she said a quick prayer then reached under the seat. Satisfied they had been returned to where Bobbs had found them, she closed the door, strolled back out to Reese’s car, got in, but said nothing. She was still as mute as a mime three blocks later.
“It’s the Hall case,” Reese finally announced. “That’s what got your goat and your tongue.”
She didn’t answer or look his way but instead studied street scenes outside her window. With snow spitting from the sky, stores displaying holiday decorations, and shoppers crowding the sidewalks, it looked like Christmas. It was the time of wonder and magic for children. It was a time of joy and cheer for adults. Yet if Rose was alive somewhere, would there be any wonder or cheer for her? And what would the holidays be like for her parents?
Pulling her arms over her chest, Helen looked toward Reese. The words she wanted to say caught in her throat. So, shaking her head, she turned her gaze back out the windshield to where the wipers were slowly dusting the snow from the glass.
“I won’t,” the man solemnly said as he pulled up to a red light.
She quickly looked into his eyes. She had to be sure that he meant what she hoped he did. “Won’t what?”
“I won’t quit working on the case,” he vowed as the light changed and he pulled forward. “And I’ll let you know if I find out anything. I promise.”
That wasn’t nearly enough, but it was something. At this moment, holding on to Reese’s promise of not giving up was all she had.
“And, Helen,” he added, “I am going to find a way to teach you how to have fun someday. Life is much more than work.”