Before I can answer, Darcy sets her fork down, and takes my hand. “You know I love you, right?”
“I know, Darce. You've been my big sister for a long time now,” I reply, letting her speak. “I love you, too.”
She swallows and smiles. “Well, for six years we've known each other, and there's been only one hope that I've had that I haven't been able to see. I've watched as you grew into an intelligent, beautiful young woman and into a hacker even better than me. And we're going to sit here and watch as you get your vengeance, your mission complete. So that leaves only one hope that I've kept inside myself for so long. I want you to find happiness, to find a future. Now, I've only talked with Jackson a little bit face to face. But I saw the way he cares for you, that boy is head over heels for you. Give him a chance. Andrea told me that he's trying to become something, even when it was just the memory of you. Imagine what he can be, what you both can be, together.”
I think, then nod. “Well, first, let's watch the news.”
The six o'clock news comes on, and Peter DeLaCoeur's arrest is top news. We watch silently as the video feed shows him being loaded into an ambulance, his wrist cuffed to the gurney, holding his ribs and groaning. “Damn, Jackson must have really gotten a shot in,” Darcy says. “Wonder how the cops will spin that one.”
The story continues as the lead anchor continues the story. Darcy and I had gone through at my lead and released only about half of my files, the ones that most damaged Peter while sparing Margaret DeLaCoeur and Nathan Black what I could. I spared Margaret because I feel at least a little bit of pity for the woman, who's lived in her own version of hell for the past twenty-five years. She's sick more than anything else, and part of me hopes that she'll get treatment for her sickness, although as I watch the police lead a broken, sobbing Margaret out of the DeLaCoeur plantation mansion, I doubt it.
I spared Nathan what little I could because, despite the evil acts he's done, he's trying to repent, to do the right thing. Maybe I’ve grown a little weak, or maybe I just think the man deserves a second chance, but none of the files that Darcy released have his voice or likeness, and most of the text files don't refer to him by full name. If Nathan moves quickly and uses the contacts I'm sure he has, he'll have a chance to redeem himself.
I couldn't do much for Andrea, but she's told me she wanted her mother's story told. She's got her own mission anyway, and the case of Aiko Mori's death is one of the more dramatic ones, even if it is smaller in terms of scandal compared to the other information the cops and FBI received. A tearjerker for sure, but since it is nearly twenty years old and doesn't have any political sizzle, it doesn't make the broadcast.
“The story of the downfall of what could be the most powerful man in New Orleans, the Don of the Delta, as some people are already calling him, is going to be even more intriguing as the days progress. With multiple sources receiving what is potentially thousands of pages of information along with dozens of hours of audio and video, it will take a long time for the full impact of today's events to be revealed.”
I sit back and feel a great weight lift off my shoulders. I close my eyes and bow my head, resting my forehead in my hands as I start to cry, tears of relief and farewell to the pain that I've carried for a whole decade. I feel a hole inside me finally close, and Darcy rests her hands on my shoulders, letting me do what I need to do.
When the tears are done, I wipe at my eyes and look over at Darcy. “Thanks. I guess there's only one thing left for me to see now.”
There's a buzz at the security system, and Darcy looks at me. “Ask, and you shall receive. Good luck.”
Darcy hurries over to the fire escape and slips out, giving me a thumbs up and a smile as she does. Kneeling once she's out the window, she looks back. “I love you, Katrina. Goodbye.”
There's a finality to it, and I nod, blowing her a kiss. “Goodbye, Darcy. I love you, too.”
Darcy goes up instead of down, probably to take the second fire escape on the far side of the building, and I hurry over to the security system, where the monitor shows Jackson standing outside the building, looking at the buzzer. He's dressed differently than I've ever seen him, but the hair's the same, and my heart leaps in my chest. He hits the call button again, glancing between the slip of paper in his hand and the numbers on the box. “Hello? I was given this address. Can someone inside help me?”
I look back over my shoulder, to the bathroom area of the loft where I have the last piece of my tests for Jackson and hit the door lock release. I watch just long enough to see that he's pulled the door open and is going to come up the three mini-flights of stairs before I turn and hit the circuit breaker that controls all the lights in the loft and run for the bathroom. The dim light still filtering in through the fire escape window gives me enough light, and I pull on the oversized cloak with padded shoulders and Mardi Gras mask with the built-in electronic voice changer, waiting.