“But you will.” I glance at my watch. “It’s twenty-five minutes past eleven on Friday morning, August fifteenth. We are in the foyer of Lucy’s house in Concord.” I write it down. “And I’ve just asked Special Agent Erin Loria for the warrant because I also am an occupant of this house. Not full-time but I have an apartment here that contains personal possessions and confidential information. So I’d like to see the warrant.”

“It’s not your house.”

“To quote the Fourth Amendment in the Bill of Rights,” I reply, “people have a right to be ‘secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects against unreasonable searches and seizures.’ I’d like to see the warrant to make sure it’s properly signed by a judge, and that the judge doesn’t happen to be Special Agent Erin Loria’s husband the honorable Zeb Chase.”

“That’s ridiculous!” she interrupts me. “He’s in Virginia.”

“He’s a federal judge and theoretically could sign off on any federal court order you request. Of course it would be unethical.” I’m jotting notes. “I’d like to see the warrant. I’ve asked you three times.” I underline it for emphasis.

Chapter 17

CHAPTER 17

IT’S THE USUAL DOCUMENT, NOTHING CLEVER OR UNEXPECTED. The search-and-seizure warrant lists everything but the kitchen sink, including secret hatches, doors, rooms and egresses that may or may not be attached to the main residence and its outbuildings.

The inventory of what the FBI has nabbed so far includes long guns, handguns, ammunition and reloading tools, and knives and cutting/stabbing instruments of all descriptions, dive and boat gear, electronic recording equipment, computers, external hard drives and any other form of electronic storage. The legal wish list also includes possible sources of biological evidence, specifically DNA, and I find that odd. Not that anything this day is even close to normal.

It’s on my mind that the FBI has Lucy’s DNA. She used to work for them. They have her DNA profile and fingerprints on file and also Janet’s, Marino’s and mine for exclusionary purposes. I assume they have no interest in seven-year-old Desi. He has nothing to do with anything, and I don’t understand exactly what the agents are hoping for. But clearly they aren’t done yet, and because they’re hell-bent to help themselves to every computer and whatever’s on them I’m forced to consider another grim scenario. What if the Feds are looking for a way to access confidential information at my headquarters, the Cambridge Forensic Center?