Kevin smiled wide, stupidly, but it didn’t matter. He didn’t have to pretend with Sam.

They hugged tight then, tighter than they had ever hugged before.

“Promise to never leave me,” Kevin said.

“I promise,” Sam said. “And if you ever need me, all you have to do is knock on my window and I’ll come flying out in my pajamas.”

Kevin laughed. Then Sam laughed, and Kevin laughed at Sam’s laughing. It might have been the best night of Kevin’s life.

“—Samantha?”

Kevin faced Jennifer. “Pardon?”

She looked at him. “Why was the boy after Samantha?”

“Because he was a demented wacko who found pleasure in cutting up animals and terrorizing the neighborhood. I didn’t exactly have the time or the presence of mind to sit him down and run a psychological profile on him. I was scared to death.”

Jennifer chuckled. “Touché. Too bad, though. Now we’re sitting twenty years beyond that night, and I have the formidable task of trying to do it myself. Whether you like it or not, you may be my best hope of understanding him. Assuming the boy and Slater are one and the same, you’re the only person we know who’s had any meaningful contact with him, then or now.”

As much as the thought of going back to the past made Kevin nauseated, he knew that she was right. He sighed. “I’ll do whatever I can.” He looked out the side window. “I should have made sure he was dead then.”

“You would have done society a favor. In self-defense, of course.”

“And what if Slater does show up on my doorstep one of these days? Do I have the right to kill him?”

“We have law enforcement for a reason.” She paused. “On the other hand, I might.”

“You might what?”

“Take him out. If I knew for sure it was Slater.”

“What evil is man capable of?” Kevin said absently.

“What?”

“Nothing.” But it was something. It struck Kevin for the first time that he had not only had the capacity to kill Slater, but also the desireto do so, self-defense or not. What would Dr. John Francis say to that?

“So. The boy was taller than you, about thirteen, blond and ugly,” Jennifer said. “Nothing else?”

The sensation that there was something else nagged at Kevin, but he couldn’t remember. “I can’t think of anything.”

They passed a store that Kevin recognized. “Where are we going?”

Suddenly he knew. His foot began to tap. They drove around a deserted park filled with elm trees.

“I thought I’d take you to your aunt’s home. See if we can jog loose a few memories. Visual association can do wonders . . .”

He didn’t hear the rest. A buzz lit through his mind and he felt claustrophobic in her car.

Jennifer looked at him but said nothing. He was sweating; she could surely see that. She turned onto Baker Street and drove under the elms toward his childhood house. Could she hear his thumping heart too?

“So this is where it all happened,” she said absently.

“I . . . I don’t want to go to the house,” he said.

She looked at him again. “We’re not going to the house. Just down the street. Is that okay?”

He couldn’t say no—might as well wave a red flag in front of her. “Sure. I’m sorry. I’m not on the best terms with my aunt. My mother died when I was young and my aunt raised me. We’ve had our differences. Mostly over college.”

“Okay. That’s not uncommon.”

But she saw more in him, didn’t she? And so what if she did? Why did he feel so compelled to hide his upbringing? It was weird but not demented. Samantha said otherwise, but she was biased. It wasn’t like he was a victim of physical abuse or anything so horrifying.

He took a slow breath and tried to relax.

“You think the boy chased you into one of those old warehouses across the tracks, that’s what you said?”

He looked to his right. The memory of that night came back fresh and raw. “Yes, but I was scared out of my mind, and it was dark. I can’t remember which one.”

“Have you ever checked any of them? To see if there even is one with a basement?”

Kevin fought a wave of panic. He couldn’t let her into the past. He shook his head. “No.”

“Why not?”

“It was a long time ago.”

She nodded. “There are only a few possibilities. Hopefully nothing’s changed. You know we’ll have to search.”

He nodded. “And what if you find him?”

“Then we know he’s obviously not Slater.”

“And what about me?”

“We’ll know that you killed him. In self-defense.”

They drove past the white house. “This is where your aunt lives?”

“Yes.”

“And that’s the old Sheer residence?”

“Yes.”

“None of this jogs your memory of any details?”

“No.”

She remained silent to the end of the street, where she turned around and headed back.

Kevin’s world felt like it was crumbling around him. Coming here alone was hard enough, but doing it with Jennifer somehow seemed profane. He wanted to tell her what Balinda had really done. He wanted her to comfort him, the little boy who had grown old in this world of madness. Waves of sorrow swept through his mind. His eyes went misty.

“I’m sorry, Kevin,” Jennifer said softly. “I don’t know what happened here, but I can see it left its mark on you. Believe me, if we weren’t up against a clock, I wouldn’t have brought you back here in your present state.”

She cared for him, didn’t she? She really did. A tear slipped from his eye and ran down his cheek. The emotion was suddenly beyond him. He began to cry, and then immediately tried to swallow it, which only made the condition worse. He hid his face in his left hand and started to sob, horribly aware of the foolishness of it all.

She drove out of the neighborhood and then stopped. He looked up through blurred eyes and saw that they were by the park. Jennifer sat still, looking at him with soft eyes.

“I’m . . . sorry,” he managed past a tight throat. “It’s just . . . my life’s falling apart . . .”

“Shh, shh, shh. It’s okay.” Her hand touched his shoulder. “It’s okay, really. You’ve been through hell these last two days. I had no right.”

Kevin put his hands over his face and took a deep breath. “Man. This is crazy. Nothing like making a fool of yourself.”

Her hand rubbed his arm again. “Don’t be silly. You don’t think I’ve seen a grown man cry before? I could tell you some stories. There’s nothing quite like watching a three-hundred-pound, heavily tattooed gorilla sob uncontrollably for an hour. I don’t know any decent man who could go through what you’ve gone through without a good cry.”

He smiled, embarrassed. “Is that so?”

“That’s so.”

Jennifer’s smile softened and she looked away. “The Riddle Killer’s last victim was my brother. His name was Roy. That was three months ago. He was chosen because I was closing in on the killer.”

Kevin wasn’t sure what to say. “Your brother?”

“You remind me of him, you know.” She faced him. “I won’t let this maniac kill you, Kevin. I’m not sure I could survive that.”

“I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

“Now you do. Want to go for a walk? I think we could both use some fresh air.”

“Okay.”

They walked side by side over an emerald green lawn, past a pond with ducks and two large geese. She was laughing and telling him about a goose that had once chased her for the sandwich she held. Next to the horror that had swept over him not five minutes earlier, Kevin felt unusually peaceful, as if he were walking with his guardian angel. He wondered about Jennifer’s true intentions. She was a professional, doing her job. All FBI agents talked and laughed like this— it was their way of making someone in his shoes feel comfortable enough to work with them.

The thought made him feel suddenly awkward. Clumsy. Like a three-hundred-pound gorilla. On the other hand, she’d lost her brother.