Chapter Thirty-One
ANGEL SINCLAIR
Saturday morning, we were dropped off in town, and everyone went their separate ways. I told Frankie and Wally I needed to talk to my mom and I’d meet them later at the bookstore café. They went off to do some shopping, and I returned to the same park bench in the town square I had sat on before when I’d talked to my mom. Except this time, I didn’t call my mom.
I pulled up the number I’d found and took a deep breath. The phone rang four times before anyone picked up.
“Hello?” a female voice said.
“Hello, is this Mrs. Maria Lando?”
There was silence for a long time and then a soft chuckle. “Oh my. I haven’t been called that for a long time.”
“I’m sorry to bother you. My name is Angel Sinclair. I think my dad and your husband were friends or coworkers a long time ago.”
“Sinclair? Ethan Sinclair?”
“Yes. That’s my dad.”
“He had two daughters, right?”
“Yes, I’m the youngest. Gwen is my older sister. He…left us when I was just eighteen months old.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know he had passed away.”
“He didn’t. I mean, I don’t think so. He disappeared, and I’m trying to find out why. Is it okay if I ask you a couple of questions about my dad?”
“Of course.”
“Your husband worked at King’s Security like my dad, right?”
“Right. J. P. and Ethan were friends as well as coworkers.”
“J. P.? I thought his name was Joseph.”
“It was. Joseph Patrick. But his family and friends called him J. P. for short.”
“Oh, okay. Anyway, I saw a newspaper photograph of my father at your husband’s funeral. That’s how I found out about you and looked you up. Do you mind if I ask how your husband died?”
“He died in a freak boating accident. It was the craziest thing, because J. P. was afraid of the water. He couldn’t swim. I’ll never understood what possessed him to take the Ahab out on the water that day alone.”
“Ahab?” I asked puzzled.
She chuckled, the memory obviously a good one for her. “Yes, that’s what we called our boat—after the captain in the novel Moby Dick. I was an English literature major and also the mariner in the family. So why J. P. decided to go out on the Ahab without me that day, I’ll never know.”
It did seem unusual that a man who couldn’t swim would take a boat out on the water alone. “He didn’t have a life jacket on?”
“No, he didn’t. Apparently, the boat capsized and he drowned.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said, sadness filling me. “The police didn’t suspect any foul play? Your husband didn’t have any enemies?”
“Oh, Lord, no. J. P. was the most soft-spoken, sweetest man I’ve ever known. He never raised his voice to anyone, not even me.”
I shifted on the bench, wrapping my coat tighter around me. “The article I saw online from the newspaper said a man named Isaac Remington gave a eulogy at the funeral. Do you know who he was?”
“He was my husband’s and your father’s supervisor at King’s Security. It was kind of him to give the eulogy. I appreciated it.”
I wondered how to word my next question, wondering if she’d even answer it. “Mrs. Lando, do you know if your husband ever worked for the NSA?”
“The NSA?” Her voice sounded surprised. “No, he never worked for the government. I suppose it’s possible they worked on a project for the NSA. J. P. did have a top-secret security clearance, but he rarely spoke about his work, and he never said anything about working for the NSA.”
“Do you happen to know what project he was working on when he died?” I asked.
“I believe it was some kind of top-secret encryption project.”
“He was a mathematician, like my dad, right?”
“Yes. Computers, coding, cryptology—those were J. P.’s first loves.” She sighed, and her voice sounded sad. “He was such a good man. I miss him.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.” I, better than most, understood the pain she felt. She’d lost her husband, and I’d lost my dad. So many lives hurt and altered irretrievably.
Why? Were J. P.’s death and my father’s disappearance connected?
I thanked her for her time and hung up. I felt like I was making progress on finding out what had happened to my dad, but I had no idea where the trail was leading. What had happened to cause my father to so suddenly abandon his family and promising career and vanish off the face of the earth? What did the NSA have to do with it?
I didn’t have the answers. Yet.
But I felt closer than ever.