Marshall laughed.

Ingrid half expected him to hand the money back to her, but he folded it up and stuck it in his wallet.

“Okay,” he said. “So are you back officially? Or is this a pop-in?”

“No, I’m back. I just wanted to fill you in on some stuff before I get to digging?”

“This have something to do with that phone call?”

“Yeah.”

She spent the next thirty minutes filling Marshall in on the particulars. Ingrid had known James for nearly ten years. He was her first partner when she joined the force. After two years, he became her sergeant, then two years ago, he became her captain. Ingrid knew whatever she told him would stay with him.

“Holy shit,” he said.

“I know.”

“It will be difficult to prove one of these congressmen from thirty years ago had anything to do with the girl’s murder.”

“I agree.”

“Is that why you figure Sullivan wanted you to look into it? To try to put a stop to this Sleep Control Program.”

“I think so. I think maybe he got wind Henry’s mother might be connected to the murder, and if I investigated it, I would stumble on the answers.”

“Why not just call you and tell you directly? Or tell Henry? They’re buddy-buddy, aren’t they?”

“He probably didn’t want to get Henry’s hopes up. He knew that if I investigated it and came up with the same connection, then there was some truth to the rumors.”

“Okay, so where do you go from here?”

Ingrid told him their theory that the photographs Jennifer took were still out there somewhere. That maybe Jennifer gave the pictures to her cousin or her brother.

“That’s pretty far-fetched. I mean, it’s been thirty years.”

“It’s our only hope.”

“Okay, so what do you need from me?”

“I need help,” Ingrid said. “I need Billy.”

Marshall took a deep breath, pushed back six inches in his seat. Finally he said, “Fine, but if anybody asks, we never had this conversation.”

“What conversation?”

::::

I put up my hand to stop her.

“So, do you think that’s true about the President?” I ask. “Could Sullivan have wanted you to look into the case because he heard a rumor my mother might be involved?”

“That would make sense,” Ingrid says. “Think about it. You called and told President Sullivan what your mom did to you. That she tortured you and that she is looking for some flash drive. A flash drive he gave you. He didn’t give you one, but maybe this sparks something from his memory, that maybe your mother was involved with this conspiracy, a murder from thirty years earlier. He figures this is the only connection he can think of, so he calls the Virginia Police Commissioner and asks him to call my captain and have me look into the case.”

I nod.

“Has Sullivan called you back yet?”

“No.”