It was a Northern Virginia case, not far from Quantico, and I stopped by after court and had lunch with her in the picnic area. Not in 1997. Definitely not. She was just starting her internship and I was laughing about my suit. I said it showed sweat stains too, and that Benton was a typical man who didn’t think of things like that. He may be sensitive and hyperintuitive and have exquisite taste, but he shouldn’t be picking out clothes for me.

I don’t work for the Bureau, I remember saying to Lucy, or words to that effect. I don’t dress for meetings in war rooms, I dress for a landfill. Wash and wear, that’s me.

As early as 1995 and already Carrie was spying. She may have been covertly recording Lucy and even me soon after she met us, and I look at my phone display and watch Carrie get up from the desk two years later, in July 1997. I watch her walk across the dorm room. Pay attention. Don’t let your memories distract you from her manipulations.

“Are you having a nice trip down memory lane, Chief? Because I have a feeling you’re having a nice long leisurely stroll remembering all sorts of things you’ve not thought about in the longest time.” Carrie finds another camera, talks directly into it. “I wish I knew what stardate you’re in at this very moment. I’m here inside Lucy’s cramped unimaginative boudoir in this land of walking dicks who wear guns and flash their badges.”

Carrie is barefoot and in the same white running clothes, and the light seeping around the outer edges of the slatted blinds isn’t as intense as earlier. It’s later in the day.

“Lucy just stepped out for a few minutes to be domestic. Surprised? I imagine you are scratching your head. And I wonder? Okay tell me the truth.” Carrie leans toward the camera conspiratorially. “Does she help out around her Auntie Kay’s house? Does she do dishes or clean toilets or take out the trash or even offer? If not you should work with her on that particular aspect of her considerable immaturity and spoiledness. Because I have no problem getting her to be responsible. I simply tell her, ‘Lucy, do this or do that. And snap to it!’” Carrie laughs as she snaps her fingers. “Right now she’s taking care of our dirty laundry.

“So while we have a second alone I’m going to tell you a little bit about what to expect. By the time you see this months and years will have passed. I don’t know how many. It could be five. It could be thirty. They will pass in the twinkling of an eye and the older we get the faster time will speed on, carrying us closer to dilapidation and physical nonexistence.