“Or,” Evan repeated, “I could put a bullet through your brain right now.”

The air was thick and the sun almost directly overhead. The four stood stock-still for a full minute. Three were holding their breaths; the fourth was weighing his options.

Finally-clunk.

The Glock hit the ground, and Luther released his hold on Annie, who stepped away from him and into Connor’s arms. Connor knew she must be aching to go to Evan, but the scene had yet to play out.

Luther held up both hands in a gesture of surrender.

“Crosby, you’ve got cuffs?” Connor asked as he walked toward them.

“No.” Evan shook his head. “You’re going to have to take him in, anyway. I don’t have jurisdiction here.”

“Now he tells me,” Luther muttered.

Connor stood in front of Luther, the gun in his hand pointed straight at Luther’s chest.

“I want to know one thing. Did you kill my brother?”

“Saint Dylan?” Luther asked. “No. No, that was Brendan.”

“Do you know why?” Connor stepped closer.

“Because he thought Dylan was you.” Luther smiled and pointed in the direction of the road. “Shall we go?”

“Why did he want to kill me?”

“Because of what you’d seen in Santa Estela. He was afraid you’d ask too many questions.”

“What about Santa Estela?” Evan frowned.

“Our friend here was running a kiddie shuttle out of the country, sold them off to-where, Luther?” Connor asked.

“To whoever offered the most money, of course.”

Evan stopped and stared at Luther’s back. The man continued to walk as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

“Who did you sell to in Pennsylvania?” Evan asked. He called to Connor, “Stop for a minute.”

He caught up with Connor and Luther and grabbed Luther by the lapels. “Who did you sell to on the East Coast?”

“I didn’t do the selling, Agent…” Luther paused. “I didn’t catch your name.”

“Who did the selling, Blue? Who did you give the kids to?” Evan persisted.

“They were brought to me by a contact in Santa Estela. I moved them out of the country. Where they went to once they left Santa Estela, I have no idea.”

“Who paid you?” Evan was almost in his face.

“I don’t think we’re going to continue this conversation any longer.” Luther turned to Connor. “If you’re taking me in, take me in. Let’s not waste any more time. It’s hot out here…”

They walked between the rows of graves, an odd little parade of four. Luther first in line, Connor directly behind, his gun drawn. Still calm, Annie walked hand in hand with Evan, keeping the pace. They were within thirty feet of the tent when Connor put his hand on Luther, bringing him to a halt.

“Annie, find John Mancini. I don’t want to go into the crowd with a gun drawn,” Connor said.

Evan walked around in front of Luther, his hand on the gun inside his waistband.

“Just in case you’re thinking about taking off into the crowd,” Evan told him, “there’s nothing that would make me happier than putting a bullet in you.”

Annie returned in minutes, John and several other agents in tow. John walked silently around Luther, as if inspecting him.

Finally, he said, simply and without emotion, “Take him in.”

Connor handed Luther over to several of his colleagues, one of whom cuffed him and started to lead him away.

“Luther,” John called out, and Luther turned.

“There was no CI in the McCullum case.”

“What?”

“There was no confidential informant used in the McCullum case.”

“You stay up all night last night, looking for that?” Luther asked.

“Didn’t have to,” John told him. “I was the special agent in charge. And it was Memphis, by the way, not Detroit…”

Four nights later, Evan leaned an elbow on the bar at Taps and looked around, still dazed by all the attention he had received after his role in bringing in Luther Blue had been announced by the FBI in a statement crediting him with the apprehension of one of the major players in the international traffic in child slavery.

“Way to show up the feds.” Todd Holiday slapped him on the back for at least the fourth time. “Unbelievable, man. You made us all proud.”

“Hey, I heard the FBI wants to hire you; that true?” Joe Sullivan sidled up behind him.

Evan shrugged. “Hey, you know, rumors are flying around about everything this week.”

It was true-John Mancini had offered Evan an assist in getting into an accelerated program-but Evan didn’t feel like getting into any of that right then and there. Tonight was Disco Night at Taps, and with the Bee Gees playing, Tom singing along in a weak falsetto, and all his old friends there with him, Evan pushed all thoughts of his next career move from his mind. He waved to Sean Mercer, the police chief from Broeder, who was weaving through the crowd with Evan’s sister, Amanda.

“Hey, hero-man.” Amanda hugged her older brother. “I saw you on the news last night. The local stations are really playing you up big-time, aren’t they?”

“There’s so much focus on the arrests of the crew who was running those brothels in the county, it’s a good thing. Not the publicity for me, but shining the spotlight on this trafficking in children…”

“I couldn’t believe this was happening, right there in Carleton.” Amanda frowned. “Everyone I’ve spoken with has reacted the same way. No one believes it could happen here.”

“It’s happening in a lot of places. It’s good that the story’s out there. People should be aware that this is going on in their own backyards; it’s way more common than even I ever imagined. And I’m a cop.”

Sean motioned to the bartender, who promptly set up three beers. He handed one to Amanda and one to Evan, who waved it off and pointed to a place on the bar where six or seven beers were already lined up.

“If I drink every beer that’s been bought for me tonight, I’ll have to crawl home. I’ve already had three, not counting this one. I think I’ll just nurse the one I have for a while.”

“I’m really proud of you, Evan,” Amanda whispered.

“Thank you. But it doesn’t take much heroism to save the woman you love when someone is holding a gun to her head.”

“Where is said woman you love?” Amanda looked around the crowded bar.

“She’s still in Virginia. She’ll be here on Friday, though. We have big plans for the weekend.”

“A romantic weekend away? Cape May? New York?” Amanda asked.

“West Broeder. The backyard. Just me, Annie, and a couple of rosebushes.” He grinned. “I already bought ’em. They’re lined up along the back fence, just waiting to be planted.”

“Way to plan a getaway,” Sean deadpanned.

“Hey, that’s what my girl wants, that’s what she gets.”

“Crosby, the boss is here. He’s looking for you.” Johnny Schenk slapped him on the back. “He wants to kiss your butt a little. I say let him.”

Evan laughed and stepped around his sister to greet Chris Malone, who, still in his dark suit and dark tie, looked out of place in the smoky, loud neighborhood bar. He was a sport to stop in, Evan acknowledged as he accepted the congratulations and words of praise Malone had offered.

An hour later, his ears ringing from too many repetitions of “I Love the Nightlife” and Blondie’s “Heart of Glass,” Evan slumped into a booth opposite Joe and leaned against the hard wooden back. They had a basket of chips and a bowl of peanuts between them, and a couple of beers. Just like a hundred other nights they’d shared in this booth, in this bar, after their shift together as detectives in the Broeder Police Department. Those were the good old days, Evan was thinking as he grabbed a handful of peanuts.

“Getting too old for this kind of partying, Sullivan,” Evan told Joe.

“Hey, I know what you mean. Nights when I’m not working, I’m asleep by now.” He glanced at his watch. “I should probably get going soon. Rosemary and Joey are leaving early in the morning, and all the commotion always wakes me up.”