Guy Betancourt knew exactly where his daughter lived. The last time he had seen her was at her high-school graduation, in Minneapolis, and neither Ruth nor Ellie knew he was there. He had wanted it that way. “I abandoned her and she won’t want to see me,” he had told himself, but he had attended anyway and felt proud when Ellie’s scholarship was announced. In the crowd of parents and friends on the lawn of the school afterwards, he saw a good-looking man hugging Ellie and Ruth. When he asked about the man, someone said, “Oh, that’s the girls’ baseball coach, Louis de Costa.” Guy did not think Ellie or Ruth would welcome him then, and he had gotten in his car and driven away. After that, he followed Ellie on line.
Over the years, he had sent money – and presents. Ellie had always written him thank-you notes, and he had kept every one of them. He had never asked to see her, and she had never asked to see him. Now that his paintings were in demand and he had a great deal of money, he wanted to do more for her. “But how do I get back into her life?” he asked himself over and over again. The business with her mother all those years ago – he did not know how to overcome that. The divorce because of his infidelity. The murder, because of what seemed like an impetus decision.
At first, he had tried to stay in touch with Philip Wang because he knew Marie and Philip worked closely together at the Bureau. But three or four years after the murder, Philip had said to him, “Look, Guy, you and Marie were divorced. You didn’t want to take Ellie. She’s fine now, and I stay in close touch with Ruth. Why don’t we just leave it that if the Bureau finds out anything, I’ll let you know?” Guy, ashamed and feeling guilty because of Ellie, had agreed. They had never talked again. Guy had used every Web site he could think of to see if, in fact, the case had ever been solved. Just a year ago, he had come across a site that reported on unsolved murders of CIA and FBI personnel. Marie Betancourt’s name was still on the list.
Guy had married again, several years after Marie’s death, and he had divorced his second wife ten years ago. Now in his early sixties, he retained his good looks – his father’s French genes supplied the slender body, the luxuriant brown hair and the deep-set brown eyes. Ellie had inherited his slender build but a recessive gene but had gotten Marie’s red hair and fair skin. When he had seen her at age 18, at her graduation, she reminded him so much of Marie, although she was taller. He made up his mind. He would find her and talk with her and try to make up for some of what had happened before very many more months went by.
In the meantime, Guy made a point of researching everyone he knew about who was involved with his daughter in any way. He had learned a great deal about the two vice presidents for whom she had worked during her ten years at IBM. He knew the entire history of the president, the provost, and the dean of her school at The American University, where she had taught for five years. He also knew the background of Dr. Henley James and the provost at Ellie’s current university. A chance news photo from a society event in Washington, DC, that appeared in a story on the Internet had led him to discover Max Garrity who was very obviously Ellie’s escort in the picture. “Rich bachelor,” Guy had thought after looking Max up and wondered whether Ellie really liked him. “She moved to Boston, so maybe not!” he told himself some months later.
He had, of course, Googled Louis de Costa and learned of his extensive background in real estate. “A self-made man,” Guy observed, with approval, although he still felt jealous of the obvious closeness Louis had had with Ellie – “and maybe still has?” Guy wondered. He had noted that Louis had moved to the Boston area some ten years ago. “Did he help Ellie get the new teaching job?” Guy asked himself and had a feeling the answer was “yes”. If Guy had ever met or known about Tony Bonello, Ruth’s long-time friend, Guy would have researched him, too. At the moment, he was checking out the names of Ellie’s new neighbors in Boston. The Internet made it so easy to do – all you had to do was enter addresses and get names. It gave him a way to feel closer to Ellie.
The one person he did not feel inclined to check out or contact, although Guy knew where he was, was Philip Wang. “He never liked me,” Guy thought, “but I think he liked Marie – very much. Maybe they had something going.” That thought did not bother him now although it had at one time, especially when it had occurred to him that the “something going” might have happened before the divorce. “Of course, I was having my own affair,” he thought wryly. All behind him now. He wondered if Ellie had ever tried to find her mother’s killer – or perhaps was still trying. “Of course, she’d work with Philip on that,” he speculated and felt a twinge. “Guy, don’t let your emotions trip you up – that’s happened before!” he reminded himself.
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