“Call me Sally. After all this, I don’t think I ever want to have the Brainerd name attached to me again.”
“Sally. A nice name. Warm and funny and cozy. Quinlan likes your name. He said it was a name that made him feel good, made him feel like he’d always get a ready smile, and probably a good deal more, but he didn’t add that. Sometimes Quinlan has discretion, at least when he’s on the job-or rather, when he’s talking to me, his boss.”
She said nothing to that.
Brammer really didn’t know why he was doing it, but this thin young woman who’d been through more than her fair share for a lifetime, who didn’t know the first thing about getting information out of people, had made him spill his guts-and she hadn’t said a thing.
Actually, he wanted to take her home with him and feed her and tell her jokes until she was smiling and laughing all the time.
He said, impelled by all the protective instincts she fostered in him, “I’ve known Quinlan for six years. He’s an excellent agent. He’s smart and he’s intuitive. He’s got this sort of extra sense that many times puts him nearly in another person’s head-or heart. Sometimes I’m not sure which. Sometimes I have to rein him in, yell at him because he plays a lone hand, which we don’t like to have happen. Bureau agents are trained to be team players, except for those in New York City, of course, and Quinlan down here at the Metro office. But I always know when he’s doing it, even though he thinks he’s fooling me.
“He also has this knack for making people remember things buried deep in their brains. He did that with you tonight, didn’t he?”
“Yes. But, on the other hand, Mr. Brammer, you got even more out of me.”
“Ah, but that’s just because Quinlan opened the spigot, so to speak. Now, in addition to being one of the best agents in this office, he’s a very talented man. He plays the saxophone. He’s from a huge family sprawled out all over the East Coast. His father retired two years ago, one of the best chiefs the bureau has ever had. His first wife, Teresa, was a big mistake, but that’s over with. He hunkered down for a while, rethought lots of things, and then he came out of hibernation, and he got well. Now he’s met you, and all he can do is smile and rub his hands together and talk about the future. Treat him well, Sally.”
“As in be gentle with him?”
Marvin Brammer laughed. “Nan, beat on him, give him a run for his money, don’t let him pull any of his smart-ass pranks on you.”
“Pranks?”
He gave her a surprised grin, then just shook his head. “You haven’t known him all that long. You’ll see, once you’re married, Sally. Maybe even before you’re married. Quinlan’s daddy was just the same. But Quinlan has something his daddy didn’t have.”
“What’s that?”
“You,” Marvin Brammer said. He touched his palm lightly to her cheek. “Don’t worry, Sally. We’ll get your father, and he’ll pay big time for what he’s done. Quinlan was talking a mile a minute to bring me up-to-date. He told me about your father calling you twice and his face appearing in your bedroom window when you were staying at your aunt’s house in this small town called The Cove. Of course, he thought it was someone mimicking your father, that or a spliced tape. He said you knew it
was your father. And that scared you. He told me he’d never doubt you about anything again. Now, Sally, let’s get honest here. It’s not just the murder of that unknown man, it’s not just what he did to you, although that turns my stomach-it’s the dirty dealings he’s been pulling for several years now, the arms sales to very bad people. The feds will chew him up for that, and that, naturally, is why we got involved in the first place after his murder. I’m sorry he had to be your father. We believe that’s another reason he locked you away in Beadermeyer’s sanitarium. He did believe, according to Scott Brainerd, that you had seen some compromising papers. You don’t remember seeing any papers that could have implicated your father in the arms dealing?”