While I was on hold, I looked out the window as the RV switched lanes again and saw what the tie-up had been. A Volvo had rear-ended a Datsun and the owner of one of them was being escorted down the breakdown lane to an ambulance. His face was covered in blood and pricked with small shards of glass and he held his hands in front of him awkwardly, as if he wasn’t sure they were attached anymore.

The accident wasn’t blocking traffic anymore, if it had ever been, but everyone had slowed to a standstill to get a proper look. Three cars ahead of us, the backseat passenger was recording it all on video camera. Home movies for the wife and kids. Look, son, severe facial lacerations.

“Mr. Kenzie?”

“I’m here.”

“I’ve been chastised twice now. The second time by Agent Bolton’s boss for wasting the FBI’s precious time on something as trivial as protecting my client’s rights. So, which of my choirboys do you need information on?”

“Evandro Arujo.”

“Why?”

“We just need it, that’s all I can say.”

“Okay. Shoot.”

“When’s the last time you saw him?”

“Two weeks ago Monday. Evandro’s punctual. Hell, compared to most, he’s dream.”

“How’s that?”

“Never misses an appointment, is never late, got a job within two weeks of his release—”

“Where?”

“Hartow Kennel in Swampscott.”

“What’s the address and phone number at Hartow Kennel?”

She gave it to me and I wrote it down, ripped off the sheet and handed it to Bolton as he hung up the phone.

Lawn said, “His boss, Hank Rivers, loves him, said he’d hire nothing but ex-cons if they were all like Evandro.”

“Where’s Evandro live, Officer Lawn?”

“Ms. is fine. His address is, lemme see…here it is—two-oh-five Custer Street.”

“Where’s that?”

“Brighton.”

Bryce was right next door. I wrote down the address and handed it to Bolton.

“Is he in trouble?” she said.

“Yes,” I said. “If you see him, Ms. Lawn, do not approach him. Call the number Agent Bolton just gave you.”

“But what if he comes here? He has another appointment in less than two weeks.”

“He won’t be coming there. And if he does, lock the door and call for help.”

“You think he crucified that girl a few weeks ago, don’t you?”

The RV was moving briskly now, but inside, it felt like traffic had come to a dead stop.

I said, “What would make you think that?”

“It was something he said once.”

“What did he say?”

“You have to understand, like I said, he’s one of the easiest parolees I have and he’s never been anything but sweet and polite and, hell, he sent me flowers in the hospital when I broke my leg. I’m no virgin when it comes to ex-cons, Mr. Kenzie, but Evandro really seemed like a decent guy who’d taken his fall and didn’t want to take another.”

“What did he say about crucifixions?”

Bolton and Fields looked at me and I could see that even the usually disinterested Erdham was watching my reflection on his LED screen.