Evan! How’s it going?”

A hand slapped him on the back, and Evan turned to find Will Fletcher, a friend of Annie’s from the Bureau, leaning against the bar.

“Some wedding, huh?” Will gestured around the tent with one hand, the other hand wrapped around a glass of champagne.

“Yeah. Beautiful. Glad the weather held for Mara and Aidan. The reports this week weren’t too promising.” Evan declined the flute offered by a tuxedoed young man and opted for a pilsner of beer.

“That’s one beautiful bride.” Will nodded at Mara, who, with her tall, handsome groom, was making her way around the room.

“No argument from me,” Evan agreed.

“Great idea, don’t you think, to have Annie and Julianne give the bride away?”

“Well, since Mara’s parents aren’t alive, having her sister and her daughter there for her was a really nice touch.”

“The kid-Julianne-looks like she’s survived her ordeal pretty well.”

For a moment, Evan had forgotten that Will had been there when Julianne had been returned after spending seven years living under an assumed name with her father, Jules Douglas. Unable to forgive Mara for having divorced him, Jules had done the one thing he knew would hurt Mara the most. He took their five-year-old daughter, and disappeared.

After years of tracking, the FBI was finally led to the Valley of the Angels, a Wyoming ranch that was part of the network of one self-proclaimed evangelist who called himself Reverend Prescott, whose mission in life was to “rescue” young drug-addicted runaways from the streets, only to clean them up and sell them to the highest bidder on the Internet. Jules’s mathematical wizardry had come in handy when it came to cooking the reverend’s books. Jules was currently in prison awaiting trial for kidnapping and a host of other charges related to his work at the Valley of the Angels. Julianne had been present when her father was arrested, just a few days after she’d been reunited with her mother. All in all, it had been one hell of a year for everyone involved.

“From all accounts, Julianne seems to be doing just fine. She seems to be accepting Aidan as a stepfather-Mara would have postponed the wedding if she hadn’t been able to handle it-and Annie has been keeping tabs on her. She thinks Julianne’s doing great.” Evan’s searching eyes found Annie, halfway across the tent. He willed her to look at him, and eventually, she did. She smiled and winked, and continued her conversation with one of the guests.

Will said something else, and Evan nodded and excused himself. The band was starting to play an old ballad from the forties and he wanted to dance with Annie, wanted to feel her arms around him, wanted to feel her pressed against him. He smiled at the person she was chatting with-a man he vaguely recognized as someone from her office-and took her hand.

“It’s time to dance with your guy,” he told her as he led her to the dance floor.

“Gladly.” She moved into his arms and swayed with him.

“What’s with this forties music?” he asked.

“Mr. Shields asked them to play it.”

“He asked them to play the last two sappy songs. Since when does the father of the groom get to submit his own playlist?”

“Since no one has told him he couldn’t.”

Out of the corner of one eye, Evan watched the Shields clan gather. They were all now, or had been at one time, in the FBI. Aidan, the groom. Connor, his older brother and best man. Thomas, their father, and Frank, their uncle and Thomas’s brother, both now retired. The cousins-Frank’s kids-Andrew, Brendan, Grady, and Mia, the lone female in the family. Two generations of FBI, eight in all.

But of course, there had been nine. It was the ninth Shields-Thomas’s middle son, Dylan-who was on everyone’s mind right then.

“Annie!” Grady shouted over the heads of the other dancers. “We need you!”

Evan thought he’d felt her stiffen slightly, but she smiled and kept on dancing.

“We’re about to drink a toast to Dylan, Annie”-Brendan made his way through the crowd and took Annie’s arm-“and we can’t do it right without you.”

Annie appeared slightly uncomfortable, as if unsure what to do, but did not protest when Brendan tugged her along.

“Evan, do you mind…?” she asked.

“You go on,” he said. “It’s okay…”

“If you’re sure…?”

“Sure.” He shrugged, and watched her disappear into the crowd.

A few minutes later, Thomas Shields asked the band to stop playing so that he could propose a toast to his son.

Not Aidan, the groom. But Dylan, the one who’d been killed in an undercover drug deal gone bad more than two years earlier.

Dylan, everyone’s favorite, the best of the Shields brothers. Best athlete. Best student. Best friend. Best agent. The golden boy whose memory would forever remain untarnished to those who had known and loved him.

Dylan, who had been engaged to marry Annie.

Evan signaled the bartender for a beer, then leaned back against the bar and took a long drink while listening to the tributes, one after another, being paid to the fallen hero.

“If they keep this up much longer, they’ll turn the wedding reception into a wake,” he muttered.

“What?” The man next to him leaned forward, thinking Evan had been addressing him.

“I said, nice that they’re remembering Dylan,” he said dryly.

“Oh, hell of a guy. Damn shame, what happened to him.” The man shook his gray head. “Just a damn shame. And him all set to marry that pretty little Annie McCall. Broke her heart, the day he died, I can tell you that. Just a tragedy.”

The man appeared to wipe a tear from his face, and Evan fought an urge to roll his eyes.

“Friend of his, were you?” the man asked.

“Ah, no. We never met. I’m actually a friend of the bride.”

“Then you must know Annie.”

“Yes, of course. I know Annie.”

“They sure do love her, don’t they?” He nodded to the cluster that the Shields family made on the opposite side of the room. “But then again, what’s not to love about Annie, right? Damn shame she had the love of her life snatched away from her like that.”

Evan’s stomach began to knot. He put the beer down on the bar and started to excuse himself, but his companion kept talking.

“Makes it worse for everyone, not knowing, you know.”

“Not knowing what?”

“Not knowing who pulled the trigger. Never did find the shooter. I think that would have helped everyone, if they had closure, you know?”

“I’m sure the Bureau investigated thoroughly.”

“They did, but nothing came of it. Sometimes it happens like that. It’s not always like it is on those TV shows, you know.”

Evan knew.

The eulogies finally over, the band began to play again. Evan looked around for Annie, but found her still surrounded by the Shields family. When he saw Mara standing along the edge of the dance floor chatting with a girlfriend, he put his beer down and made his way to her.

“May I have the honor of dancing with the bride?” He held out his arms.

“I thought you’d never ask.” Mara smiled and joined him on the dance floor.

“Beautiful wedding, Mara,” he said.

“Oh, thank you. I’m so glad it didn’t get humid. You know how it gets here in Pennsylvania in the summer. It can really swelter.”

“Well, you lucked out, all around.” He moved her around the dance floor in time to the music. “Everything is perfect.”

She nodded somewhat absently, and he caught her looking over his shoulder.

“What?” he asked.

“We should be leaving soon, but I’m afraid it’s going to be hard to tear Aidan away from his family.”

“On his wedding night? I doubt it.”

“It’s been a difficult day for them-for Aidan and his dad and his brother and the rest of them. This is really the first big family event since Dylan died, and they’re all missing him so much.” Her eyes flickered, and she looked up at him. “Probably not so easy for you, either, but for a different reason, right?”