“We didn’t have a lot to go on at first,” Joseph answered easily. “It took a while to get the official ball rolling, and even longer for me to be hired by the senator, then win his trust so he’d let me work as his bodyguard and personal assistant. When you showed up, I thought you were going to screw it all up for sure.”

“That explains the rude remarks.”

“Sorry,” Joseph said.

Two cars screeched to a stop on the road, parking at angles behind the Volvo and a compact SUV. Imagine my surprise when Tucker got out of one of them, and made a beeline for us.

“What are you doing here?” I demanded.

“I was going to ask you the same question,” Tucker answered. “Since I’ve got a badge and you don’t, I win.”

Joseph and the other man conferred over Barbara’s body. A police car swept in, lights whirling.

Tucker looked strange, standing in the red-and-blue flash.

“Are you hurt?” he asked.

“No,” I said. “And you don’t have a badge, you damn liar.”

He grinned, squatted beside me, pulled something from the pocket of his shirt. I saw my second fed shield of the evening.

I squinted at it. Very convincing, but I was still wary.

“Tucker Darroch,” Tucker said. “DEA.”

I glanced at Joseph, who was busy with crime-scene stuff. Shifted my gaze back to Tucker. I probably looked skeptical.

“Right,” I said.

Tucker helped me to my feet. Unfortunately, my legs had gone to sleep, and I folded like a rag doll. He caught me.

“You lied to me,” I said.

“I told you I worked Narcotics,” Tucker said, lifting me into his arms. “Close enough. And I really was with Scottsdale P.D.—once.”

More cop cars screamed up the road.

Tucker sat me sideways in the front seat of the Volvo.

“You’re going to have to tell this story a lot of times,” he said, squatting to look up at me, “so if you don’t want to explain what you’re doing here, barefoot and wearing a bathrobe, I’ll understand.”

I sighed. Where to begin?

I started with the night Barbara Larimer shot my parents.

Tucker listened without interruption, never looking away from my face.

Cops came and went.

Federal agents came and went.

“Aren’t they going to remove the body?” I finally asked, when it was almost dawn and I was exhausted from giving my long, involved account. By then, Tucker had transferred me to a government car and wrapped me in a blanket. Boomer had arrived on the scene, and he brought us each a cup of coffee.

“It’s a crime scene, Moje,” Tucker said quietly. “Pictures have to be taken, and somebody from the M.E.’s office will need to sign off before anything can be disturbed.”