Woods Boone was smoking his pipe and reading a document. His desk was stacked with papers and files, many of them untouched for months, maybe even years. He smiled when he saw Theo and said, “Well, well, how was the big trip?”

“It was great, Dad. I’ll tell you all about it over dinner. Right now there’s something we need to talk about, something really important.”

“What have you done?” Mr. Boone asked, suddenly frowning.

“Nothing, Dad. Well, not much anyway. But, look, Ike is on his way over and we need to have a family meeting.”

“Ike? A family meeting? Why am I nervous?”

“Can we just meet with Mom in the conference room and talk about it?”

“Sure,” Mr. Boone said, putting away his pipe and getting to his feet. He followed Theo downstairs. Ike was knocking on the front door and Theo unlocked it. Mrs. Boone emerged from her office and asked, “What’s going on here?”

“We need to talk,” Theo said. Mrs. Boone gave Ike a quick hug, the kind you’re expected to give but don’t really want to. She gave her husband a curious look, like “What’s he done now?”

When they were situated around the conference table, Theo told the story: Last Thursday in DC, leaving Ford’s Theatre, on the crowded subway, the man who looks like Pete Duffy, the secret video made by Theo, the call to Ike, Ike’s quick trip to DC, the second spotting of Duffy, the trailing of Duffy to his run-down apartment building, the FuzziFace software and examination of the photos, and, most importantly, their belief that the man is Pete Duffy.

Mr. and Mrs. Boone were speechless.

Ike had his laptop, and it took Theo only a few seconds to wire it to a big screen on a wall at the end of the conference table. “Here it is,” Theo said, and the video began in slow motion. Theo froze it and said, “This is the best shot right here.” It was an image of the left side of the man’s face just as he dipped his newspaper.

Ike pecked on his keyboard and the screen split between that image and one of Pete Duffy taken from an old newspaper photo. Side by side, the men looked somewhat similar.

Mrs. Boone finally said, “Well, I suppose it sort of looks like the same man.”

Mr. Boone, always the skeptic, said, “I’m not so sure.”

“Oh, it’s him,” Ike said with little doubt.

“He even walks like Pete Duffy,” Theo added.

“And when did you see Mr. Duffy walk?” his father asked.

“During his trial. We walked behind him and his lawyers during the first day of the trial. I remember it clearly.”

“Have you been reading spy novels again?” Mrs. Boone asked. She and Mr. Boone were still staring at the images on the screen. Theo did not answer.

“What do you have in mind?” Mr. Boone asked Ike.

“Well, we have to go to the police, show them the video, show them these images, and tell them everything we know. At that point, it’s up to them.”

The four pondered this for a moment, then Ike continued, “But that, of course, might present another problem. We have a good police department, but Pete Duffy has a lot of friends. There could be leaks. A stray word here or there, then a quick phone call, and Duffy could disappear into thin air.”

“Are you suggesting Duffy might have a mole inside our police department?” Mrs. Boone asked, her eyebrows arched with skepticism.

“It wouldn’t surprise me,” Ike replied.

“Me neither,” added Mr. Boone.

Theo was shocked by the suggestion. If you can’t trust the police, who can you trust?

Another long pause as the four stared at the screen and considered the situation. “What are you thinking, Ike?” Mrs. Boone finally asked.

“He’s a fugitive, currently number seven on the FBI’s Ten Most Wanted list, right? So we go to the FBI and keep it away from the Strattenburg Police.”

“Well, whatever we do, we’re keeping Theo out of it,” Mr. Boone said.

That was perfectly fine with Theo. The deeper he sank into the Duffy matter, the more worried he became. However, it was exciting to think about working with real FBI agents.

“Of course we are,” Ike said. “But I suppose they’ll want to meet with him and get his version of events. We can keep that all nice and secret.”

“And when do you think we should meet with the FBI?” Mr. Boone asked.

“As soon as possible. I’ll call them first thing in the morning and arrange a meeting. I’ll suggest that we meet right here if that’s okay.”

“Guess I’ll have to miss school tomorrow,” Theo said.

“You will not,” his mother said sharply. “You were out of class Thursday, Friday, and today. You will not miss tomorrow. If we meet, we’ll do it after school. Okay, Ike?”

“Sure.”

They invited Ike to dinner at Robilio’s, their Monday night place, but he declined saying he needed to get back to the office. Theo was relieved, because Ike at dinner would mean a lot of talk about the Duffy case, and Theo had had enough of it for the moment.

He puttered around the office for half an hour, then left for home with Judge. At seven o’clock sharp, the Boone family settled around its favorite table in the restaurant and ordered the same food they had eaten the week before, and the week before that. As they waited, Theo began a lengthy review of his trip to Washington. As always, his parents peppered him with questions — about the museums and monuments, the hotel, the other kids. Did everyone behave? Any problems whatsoever? What was his favorite attraction? And so on. Theo unloaded every detail he could possibly remember, except perhaps for some of the behavior on the bus. He held their attention with a thorough description of Ford’s Theatre, along with a play-by-play account of Lincoln’s assassination. At the Vietnam Veterans Memorial, he had found the name of Joel Furniss, the young soldier Ike had known as a kid and the county’s first casualty. He loved the Washington Monument, the space museum, and the other war memorials, but was bored with most of the Smithsonian.

Mrs. Boone asked him if he would like to return to DC and spend an entire week seeing the other sights. She and Mr. Boone had talked about going there for their summer vacation. Theo wasn’t so sure. At the moment, he’d seen enough.

He went to bed early and slept for nine hours.

Early Tuesday morning, while Theo was in school, Ike contacted the FBI office in Northchester, an hour away from Strattenburg. The first phone call led to a second, then a third as the matter became urgent. Calls were made to Theo’s parents, and a meeting was arranged.

Theo was having lunch with April Finnemore when the principal, Mrs. Gladwell, appeared from nowhere and whispered, “Theo, your mother just called and you’re being excused. She wants you to get to her office as soon as possible.”

Theo had a pretty good idea what was going on, but he said nothing to April. He got his backpack, checked with Miss Gloria at the front desk, and hopped on his bike. Minutes later, he wheeled to a stop behind Boone & Boone.

They were waiting for him: his parents, Ike, and two FBI agents. The white one was named Ackerman and was a little older, with some gray in his dark hair, and he greeted Theo with a frown, which would turn out to be permanent. The black one was named Slade, thin as a rail and with a mouthful of perfect teeth. Everyone suffered through a few minutes of nervous chatter before they got down to business. Theo told his story. Ike ran the video, then did the comparison of Duffy images. Back to Theo, who began answering the agents’ questions. His parents sat beside him, quiet but ready to protect him if need be. Ackerman asked if they could have a copy of the video. Mrs. Boone said certainly. After half an hour of discussion, Slade stepped out of the conference room to call his boss back at the office.

Elsa brought in some sandwiches and managed to shoot Theo a serious look as if to ask, “What on earth have you done now?” He tried to ignore her. As they ate, the two agents politely asked Theo some of the same questions over and over, taking notes the entire time, pinning down the details. Time of day, Metro stations, number of cars in the train, exact location of “the subject.” They did not refer to him as Pete Duffy; he was always “the subject.” An hour passed as they watched the video again, talked, and waited on word from the FBI office in Northchester. Mrs. Boone left to make a few phone calls, and when she returned Mr. Boone went upstairs to check on some pressing matters. Once, both agents were on their cell phones, backs turned to the others, almost whispering important details. When one wasn’t on the phone, the other one was. As the afternoon dragged on, they became more animated. It seemed, at least to Theo, that they had managed to get the attention of more important FBI people.