Even in her inebriated, addled state she was still unable to resist a mystery or the prospect of secret information. She wondered what fabulous nuggets of FBI data might be on the phone in her hand. Incapable of resisting the temptation, she leaned back on her pillow and turned the phone on. It was locked. She knew some of her husband’s most frequently used passwords and tried his mother’s birthday. It didn’t work. She went through a half-dozen others he occasionally used. Nothing. She tried her birthday and then their wedding anniversary and the phone unlocked. Yay! Yawning again from the bourbon, she looked at the screen and noticed there was only one app on the phone called Jabber. What the hell is Jabber? She opened up the app and found a string of texts from a pest-control company.

What kind of problem do you need help with?

I’ve got a rodent infestation in my house.

A large rodent like a raccoon or something small like a mouse?

Small like a mouse. How soon are you available to take care of my problem?

Normally, finding a secret FBI phone would have been like discovering buried treasure or a unicorn, but at that moment, Zoe could barely stay awake. Her eyelids flickered and her head bobbed several times. She sat up straight and slapped her face to remain alert. Standing up and walking around her bedroom, she continued scrolling and reading the texts on the phone. Rodent problem? What the hell is this? Does the FBI have a rat infestation in the New York office? Ewww. Conner never mentioned anything about rats at work. But why would he be taking care of that? Wouldn’t that be the job of maintenance people? Maybe this is part of an FBI sting operation? Cool… I know what it is, rats must be code for criminals, like a dirty rat. Zoe sat back and smiled, proud of how she had worked that out.

After she finished reading all the texts on Jabber she closed it and clicked over into the general messages. There was only one contact there—Wardrobe Consultant. This is so weird. It must be part of the case he’s working on. The most recent message was from the previous Monday. She clicked on it.

When will it be done?

Soon.

This week?

We’re confirmed for Thursday. Be patient.

Soon it will be just the two of us in our amazing apartment overlooking the park.

Cruising through the halls of the FBI building, Conner had dropped by several different departments chatting with co-workers in his unit before he ducked into his unit leader’s office.

“I really appreciate you giving me the time off,” said Conner.

“You and your wife have been through something terrible,” said his unit director. “You didn’t need to come down here today. You could have reviewed the documents online.”