“It’s more intuitive than that initially.” Serena shrugged. “Patterns are everywhere, and I can recognize one if it’s there. Once I can see how everything figures together, then we can develop a computer program to decipher it, if we need to. Sometimes a good code just unravels.”

The elevator protested loudly again, and Dana sat up. This had to be Wolfe.

It opened, and the British guy stepped out.

Serena’s head snapped up. “What in the world are you doing here, Professor Hanson?”

Oh yeah. That was his last name. Dana’s ears twitched. Tension zinged between him and Serena. Oh, there was a story here.

The professor, satchel slung across his surprisingly fit body, strode inside. “Sometimes I like to slum it.” He turned his intelligent brown gaze on Dana. “I mean the building, not the company. The company is lovely.”

Serena snorted. “I doubt the unit needs to dissect the philosophy of crime and punishment or good and evil.”

“Love, there’s always time to dissect good and evil,” the professor returned, his jaw cleanly shaven today, showing very hard angles.

What was his first name? Dana searched her memory, but the last few days kept fuzzing.

The office door opened, and Roscoe bounded out, kicked out his back leg, and then shook his fur. With a happy yip, he trotted toward the professor, rubbing against the man’s jeans.

“Jethro?” Angus appeared in his doorway. “Do you have your old notes?”

Oh yeah. Jethro. Cool name. Dana continued to observe the tension between Serena and the professor. What in the world was up with the two of them?

Jethro tugged the wide strap of his satchel over his head and strode around the desks toward the first case room. “I have my notes, but I don’t see how any of this will help since Lassiter hasn’t made a move, if he’s even alive. I do think we should discuss the possibility that he’s dead. Sometimes evil does lose.”

Angus followed him into the case room and shut the door.

Roscoe flopped back down, this time lying across Dana’s tennis shoes and giving a short whimper.

“Ha.” She reached down to pat his head. “I’m not dumb enough to wear high heels around you, buddy.” They’d be instantly snatched away. She pushed the notebook toward Serena. Why not? “These are copies of notes my friend Candy made about a story she was working on. She’s the journalist who disappeared two months ago.”

“I see.” Serena opened the binder and flipped through the pages. She shut it and looked up, stretching out in the chair. “So. Tell me about Candy.”

Dana stilled. “Those are her notes.”

Serena smiled, and a dimple winked in her left cheek. “Did you think I’d look at the pages and then have a Good Will Hunting moment?”

Well, yeah. “Maybe a Beautiful Mind one,” Dana admitted.