“Yes, Daddy,” they chorused. They seemed to adore their father. He pulled the sliding oak doors, and the two of us were sealed inside.

“This is so damn bad. So hard.” He let out a deep breath. “Trying to keep up a front for them. They’re the best girls in the world.” Judge Connolly gestured around the book-lined room. “This is Lizzie’s favorite place in the house. She plays the piano very well. So do the girls. We’re both bookaholics, but she especially loved reading in this room.”

He sat in a club chair covered in rust-tone leather. “I appreciate that you came to Atlanta. I’ve heard you’re very good at difficult cases. How can I help you?” he asked.

I sat across from him on a matching rust-tone-leather couch. On the wall behind him were photographs of the Parthenon, Chartres, the pyramids, and an honorary plaque from Chastain Horse Park. “There are a lot of people working to find Mrs. Connolly, and they’ll go down a lot of avenues. I’m not going to get into too many details about your family. The local detectives can go there.”

“Thank you,” the judge said. “Those questions are devastating to answer right now. To go over and over. You can’t imagine.”

I nodded. “Are you aware of any local men, or even women, who might have taken an inappropriate interest in your wife? A long-standing crush, a potential obsession? That’s the one private area I’d like to go into. Then, any little things that strike you as out of the ordinary. Did you notice anyone watching your wife? Are there any faces you’ve seen around more than normal lately? Delivery men? Federal Express or other services? Neighbors who are suspicious in any way? Work associates? Even friends who might have fantasized about Mrs. Connolly?”

Brendan Connolly nodded. “I see what you’re getting at.”

I looked him in the eye. “Have you and your wife had any fights lately?” I asked. “I need to know if you have. Then we can move on.”

Wetness suddenly appeared in the corners of Brendan Connolly’s eyes. “I met Lizzie in Washington when she was with the Post and I was an associate at Tate Schilling, a law firm there. It was love at first sight. We almost never fought, hardly ever raised our voices. That’s still true. Agent Cross, I love my wife. So do her daughters. Please help us bring her home. You have to find Lizzie.”

Chapter 15

Chapter 15

THE MODERN-DAY GODFATHER. A forty-seven-year-old Russian now living in America and known as the Wolf. Rumored to be fearless, hands-on, into everything from weapon sales, extortion, and drugs to legitimate businesses such as banking and venture capital. No one seemed to know his true identity, or his American name, or where he lived. Clever. Invisible. Safe from the FBI. And anybody else who might be looking for him.