Powell was a little surprised when Burke called the next day and asked if he wanted to go get a beer.
They met at a local bar and for a few seconds, there was silence. Looking down, Burke asked Powell how he knew.
“I just put two and two together and it made sense,” Powell said. Burke asked why he had waited so long. “Well, there was a renewed interest,” said Powell.
“By who?” Burke asked. “You know I can’t tell you that,” Powell said.
Burke was almost robotic when he looked at him and said “what are you going to do?” Powell said “what do you think I should do?”
Burke ran his finger around the top of his glass and said “I think you should do what you think is right.” Powell asked “and what is that?”
“Whatever your conscience dictates I guess,” Burke said.
When Burke excused himself to go to the mens’ room, Powell thought about what he suggested. “Whatever your conscience dictates.”
Pittman had promised a bonus of $50,000.00 if Annes’ killer could be “brought to justice.” This man, this horrible excuse for a human being who himself was guilty of murder, albeit emotional murder, was suddenly a justice seeker. “If there was truly any justice in the world,” Powell thought, “Karl Pittman would be the one pushing up daisies.”
Burke returned and told Powell that he needed to get on home. Carol and the boys would be worried. He mentioned nothing about their short conversation but shook Powells’ hand and said “see ya later, kiddo.”
Powell knew he had a decision to make. He could turn Burke in and collect a nice little nest egg for his efforts or he could just let Annes’ death remain an unsolved case.
He went back to his hotel room, showered and picked up his phone.