I say this to Marino and he instantly dismisses it. “You were shot off the coast of South Florida. It didn’t happen in the Bermuda Triangle.” He glances around, looking for surveillance devices we’re not going to see.

“You draw a line from Miami to San Juan, Puerto Rico, to Bermuda and that’s the Bermuda Triangle,” I reply and geography isn’t my bigger point.

Did Lucy know her?

She was in Bermuda last week. When she landed at Logan her private jet was searched by Customs agents. That’s what I want to ask Marino about but I’m not going to say it. He stares at me, then at the photographs on the wall, and I overhear traffic on the handheld radio he has jammed into the back pocket of his borrowed black tactical pants. The reported altercation on North Point Boulevard was unfounded. The police have cleared the parking lot.

“Obviously Chanel was familiar with wreck diving in Bermuda.” I point to a photograph of the female diver swimming close to a nurse shark. “The more I look? The more I’m sure that’s her unless she’s got an identical twin.”

“I don’t know anything about her being a scuba diver,” Marino says. “Only that she must have liked underwater photography or her mother or the decorator did.”

“It’s easy enough to find out.”

There should be certification cards for the Professional Association of Diving Instructors (PADI) or for the National Association of Underwater Instructors (NAUI). She would have taken courses. She would have certifications and her name should be on membership lists. She should have dive gear in the house unless she kept it someplace else, and I bring that up again.

“Does she have other homes?” I ask and my stubborn calm is shaken.

“Good question.”

What I really want to know is if she and Lucy were recently together in Bermuda. Lucy said she went there to dive but she wouldn’t do that alone. Lucy would never dive without a dive buddy, and maybe her buddy was Chanel Gilbert—the person Lucy described as a friend of Janet’s. We have to find that out. The electronic devices collected from here have been receipted to Lucy’s lab or will be before the day is out.

I can’t have her going through Chanel’s computers, her phone, her thumb drives and any surveillance equipment if the two of them had a personal relationship. Even as I entertain such thoughts a part of me knows better. Lucy may not return to my office. Not ever. I don’t know what’s going on with her right now. I have no idea what might happen next and how far the FBI might go to ruin the rest of her life.