“Can you send me a copy of whatever you find?”

“I’d rather bring it up this weekend.”

“Even better.”

“But you’re swamped with your case. I’d better send copies of the reports overnight. That way, when we finally do get together, you’ll have had time to read them through. Maybe something will pop out at you.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Evan, I can’t thank you enough. For understanding. For putting your own feelings aside-I know this has to be hard for you.”

“Not nearly as hard as the thought of losing you.”

“You wouldn’t have lost me over this. My loving you is separate from wanting what’s right for Dylan.”

“I know that, but I also understand that you’ll never be completely happy as long as you feel he’s not at rest, Annie. I know your Irish soul.”

“It’s his Irish soul that worries me. I just need to know it’s found peace.”

“We’re going to do our best.”

“One thing you need to know…”

“What’s that?”

“I am happy with you, I’ve been happy with you. And I do love you. Without reservation. Regardless of the outcome, I will never forget that you offered to do this, with the case you’re already working on. I don’t know any other man who would be as sensitive as you are to this whole thing with Dylan.”

The crime-scene technicians had finished processing the scene and signaled that they were waiting for him.

“Annie, I have to go. You get those reports and send them up; I’ll find the time to look them over. Then we’ll talk…”

Dan Crimmons, the Prattsville chief of police, was walking up the hill toward him. Evan knew he’d have a million questions about the crime scenes in Lyndon and the other parts of the county where bodies had been found. In the distance, he could see the lights from the cars parked along the road. Newspaper, magazine, and TV reporters and their cameramen were gathering again.

Evan switched off his phone and walked down the hill to meet Crimmons, thinking that his instincts had served him well. Annie wouldn’t be completely at peace until Dylan was. He would give it his best effort.

It hadn’t been false modesty on his part to say that he felt a bit presumptuous, taking on something that the Bureau’s finest had already looked into. Dylan’s brothers and cousins were all known to be top-notch agents. What were the chances he’d succeed where they had all failed? If it helped Annie to know that they’d done their best, and that helped her to move on, what did they have to lose?

Nothing at all, he reassured himself as he walked down the hill, his hand extended in greeting to the chief.

“Chief Crimmons, I see the sharks are right on the scent. How many officers do you think you can spare to keep the press from getting anywhere near the crime scene…?”

Annie scooped the folder into her arms and strolled casually back to her office. It wasn’t that she was doing anything wrong-she did sign out the file-but she was just a little reluctant to advertise the fact that she was looking over the records relative to Dylan’s death yet again. People might think she was obsessed.

She read through the now-familiar reports, looking for something, anything, that might catch her eye. But there was nothing out of the ordinary. She’d read through the accounts of the agents who were present that night, including Aidan, who had been badly wounded and at one point, early on, wasn’t expected to make it. Thank God he did, Annie thought. Losing Dylan had been hard enough. Aidan had been her friend long before he’d become her brother-in-law.

The alarm on her watch reminded her that she had a lecture to deliver to a group of agents-in-training at two. She closed the file and pushed it to one side of her desk, then grabbed her purse from the back of her chair.

“Hey, Annie, how’s it going?” Brendan Shields poked his head in through the doorway.

“Great, Brendan, thanks. I was just on my way to-”

“Was that a great wedding or what? And Mara was just the most beautiful bride. Dylan would have been pleased to see his little brother married to your little sister. Funny, isn’t it, the way that worked out?”

“I guess it worked out the way it was supposed to.”

“Nice guy, that detective you were with, by the way. A couple of the guys said they’d worked a few cases with him up in Pennsylvania, said he was top-notch.”

“Evan Crosby. He’s good, yes. I’ve worked with him, too.”

“Well, good luck with him, if that’s the way it’s going for you and him. God knows you’re due for something good, Annie.”

“Thank you, Brendan. That’s really very nice of you.”

“Hey, is that the file on the McNamara case?” He looked beyond her to her desk. “I just stopped down at the records room and Angie told me she’d signed it out to you yesterday.”

“The McNamara file is in the trunk of my car. That”-she nodded toward her desk-“is Dylan’s file.”

Brendan raised an eyebrow.

“Evan and I were talking the other day, and we thought we’d give it one more look-see.” She shrugged as if the idea had little merit. “We just thought maybe…”

“Maybe this time something might jump out at you?”

“I guess. I know it’s a long shot.”

“You know we’ve all looked at that file so many times it’s a miracle we haven’t worn the ink right off the pages.”

“I know. I guess we just thought maybe fresh eyes…”

“Hey, sure, why not? Can’t hurt. God knows we weren’t able to come up with anything. Good luck with it.”

“I’ve got to run,” she told him, “but if you walk out with me, I can give you the McNamara file right now.”

“Great. You have everything you need here?” He turned off the light, then followed her into the hall. “By the way, you don’t happen to know where my cousin Connor is, do you?”

“Über-agent Shields? No.” She laughed. “No one ever knows where Connor is, Brendan. You know that. He comes in, gets his secret assignment, and leaves before anyone even knows he’s been in the building.”

“Yeah. The ultimate secret-agent man. No one was happier than Connor when the Bureau expanded its operations after 9/11. I think he was the first from the Bureau to apply. He just eats up that covert stuff. My sister, Mia, made the comment the other night at the wedding that maybe he should have joined the CIA.”

“Very funny. Did you try his cell phone?”

“No. Grady was looking for him this morning; I was just wondering if you knew if he was still in town.”

“Sorry. I haven’t seen or heard from him since Friday night. But if by some chance I do, I’ll let him know to call Grady.”

“Good enough. Well, you’re going to have to push the speed limit to get down to Quantico on time as it is, so let’s hope this is one of the days when the elevator actually works.” He poked the down arrow.

“I’ll be fine, as long as the traffic doesn’t back up somewhere along the way.” She watched the elevator lights descend slowly from the upper floors. “Or the elevator doesn’t pass us by.”

The elevator pinged as the doors slid open, then pinged again as they closed. It took less than forty-five seconds to reach the lobby. Annie, who detested elevators, counted off every one.

They passed through the lobby to the parking garage, where Annie had parked three cars in from the stairwell.

“You were here early,” Brendan noted.

“I had to be. I’d left the notes for my lecture in my office. Don’t ask me where my head was.”

She unlocked the trunk of her car and reached in for the file she’d been studying in the hopes of coming up with a profile for the killer who’d been terrorizing a small town in Idaho.

“Any thoughts on this one?” Brendan asked as he tucked the file under his arm.

“He’s young and he’s angry. Probably was in the service, my guess, right out of high school. I’d put my money on an early discharge, not necessarily honorable. He has definite issues with women.” She slammed the trunk lid. “I can send you an e-mail with a copy of my full evaluation when I get home tonight. My notes are all there.”