BUT I DIDN'T even begin to understand the horrible murders of five family members. Not that night, anyway. I was as baffled as everybody else about the possible motivation of the killers.

What made the mystery even deeper was something that happened about an hour after I got to the crime scene. Two officers from the CIA showed up. They looked around, then left. What was the CIA doing there?

It was a little after three thirty in the morning when Bree and I finally got back home to Fifth Street. In the stillness of my house, I could hear Ali's little-boy snores wafting down from upstairs. Reassuring and comforting sounds, to be sure.

Nana Mama had left the hood light on over the stove, and she'd Saran Wrapped a plate of the last four hermit cookies from dessert. We took them upstairs, along with glasses and a half-full bottle of wine.

Two hours later I was still awake and still messed up in the head. Bree finally sat up and turned on the light. She found me sitting on the edge of the bed. I could feel the warmth of her body against my back, her breast on my neck.

“You sleep at all?” she asked.

That wasn't really what she wanted to know.

“I knew the mother, Bree. We went to Georgetown together. This couldn't have happened to her. Shouldn't have, anyway.”

She breathed in sharply at my revelation. “I'm so sorry, Alex. Why didn't you say so?”

I shrugged, then sighed. “I'm not even sure if I can talk about it now,” I said.

She hugged me. “It's okay. No need to talk. Unless you want to, Alex. I'm here.”

“We were best friends, Bree. We were a couple for a year. 1 know it was a long time ago, but…” I trailed off. But what? But-it hadn't just been kid stuff, either. “I loved her for a while, Bree. I'm blown away right now.”

“You want to get off the case?”

“No.” I'd already asked myself the same question, and the answer had come just as quickly.

“I can get Sampson or somebody else from Violent Crimes to cover. We'll keep you up to the second-”

“Bree, I can't let go of this one.”

“This one?” She ran a hand softly up and down my arm. “As compared to… what, Alex?”

I took a deep breath. I knew where Bree was going with this. “It's not about Maria, if that's what you mean.” My wife, Maria, had been gunned down when our kids were small.

I'd managed to close the case only recently. There had been years of torture and guilt before that. But Maria had been my wife, the love of my life at the time. Ellie was something else. I wasn't confusing the two. I didn't think so anyway.

“Okay,” she said, stroking my back, soothing me. “Tell me what I can do.”