He knelt, smoothed the dirt, put the small garden trowel back into his bag, along with the doll marked 16, the last doll ever made by Jean Marie Sauveterre.
The doll that looked like Sophie Balzano.
Epilogue
It seemed like just a few days since she had stood in front of the Roundhouse that morning in November, her future uncertain. Somehow, five months had passed.
She thought about that horrible night on Pier 82.
In the days that followed, Sophie had not slept. For two nights Jessica sat up with her daughter, holding her close. On the third day, exhausted, Sophie had slept for a few hours. Each successive night it got a little easier. At least on the outside.
Jessica recalled looking at little Miranda Stovicek, the two-year-old daughter of the woman who had found Nicole Solomon’s body at the Shawmont train station. She recalled wondering whether children had these terrible things imprinted in their memory. Jessica was all but certain the memory of falling from the bow of the SS Clermont-Ferrand would live in Sophie’s mind for the rest of her life.
Because Sophie was a far more forgiving person than Jessica could ever hope to be – and the fact that the man and woman who called themselves Anabelle and Mr Marseille had not yet been found – Sophie one day told Jessica that she forgave them, and wished them well.
And, because she was a Balzano, Sophie added that she wished them well, as long as they spent the rest of their lives in a penitentiary.
Jessica glanced up, at the tall building at Three South Penn Square, then at the plaque over the entrance.
Office of the District Attorney.
Come Monday morning she would walk into this building, and begin a whole new set of challenges. Because of her experience on the street, and her time working homicides, she knew she would be fast-tracked to the criminal division. She wasn’t supposed to know this, but she did. She just hoped she wouldn’t step on too many toes in the process.
Had they paid off her loans? Not even close. But they would. They would find a way. Based on his stellar work holding the car-wash sponge for his father, Carlos Balzano had his stash up into the low two-figures. It was only a matter of time until they were flush.
As she stood in the shadow of this massive structure she thought about her late brother Michael, and how he was always walking next to her. She thought about her late mother, about how she would always sing when she made dinner, how those songs would always live in her heart. She thought about her father, his legacy, his reputation in the department and the city.
Mostly she thought of Kevin Byrne, and how they would forever be partners.
If all went as planned, she and Byrne would be working together again soon – same row, different aisles – and God help the criminal element in the City of Brotherly Love.
The Doll Maker Page 39