“And you, you are supposed to be the buddy and former cop partner of Dino Bacchetti, the attorney?”

“That is correct. Also, a U.S. Marshal, duly appointed by a federal judge.”

“And what is the name of the judge?”

Stone looked at Lance, eyebrows up.

“Elizabeth Prior,” Lance said.

“And who was that speaking just now?”

“That was Lance Cabot,” Stone said.

“Oh, the director of the Central Intelligence Agency? You must think I’m a complete fool.”

“Your case has national security implications,” Stone lied.

“Oh? How is that?”

“Are you aware that your missing companion, Tim Scott, is an FBI agent?”

“What?”

“He wasn’t supposed to tell you that,” Stone said.

“Now you expect me to believe that I could be in class with the guy for a year, a guy I had been sleeping with, without finding that out?”

“As I said, he was not allowed to tell you.”

“Why are we speaking of Tim in the past tense? Is he dead?”

“That is the assumption on which we are proceeding with this investigation.”

“Do you have any evidence that he is dead?” she asked.

“Do you have any evidence that he is alive?” Stone asked quickly.

“Well . . .”

“We are proceeding on your testimony to a police officer that you were both kidnapped and were together in a sinking boat, from which his body has not yet been recovered. Though people are trying, as we speak.”

“All right,” she said. “Let’s begin again, this time on the assumption that you three are who you say you are and not drunken practical jokers.”

“I assure you that we are who we say we are, and that there are no drinking or practical jokes involved.”

“All right, what do you want?”

“We believe that your case may be connected to other cases on which we are working, and we would like to hear your personal account of what happened to you from the time you left your class until you were pulled from the water.”

“I would feel more comfortable if I could see your faces,” she said.

“We are not in New Haven but in another state.”

“We could accomplish that by using Zoom. That way, we will be able to see each other.”

There ensued a quarter of an hour’s discussion on how to use the app, followed by explicit instructions. Finally, everyone could see everyone.

“All right,” Carly said. “I recognize Commissioner Bacchetti from his lecture and Mr. Cabot from newspaper photos, and you, Mr. Barrington, from a photo taken of you waltzing with the president of the United States. But who are the two women in the room?”

“One is Vivian Bacchetti, a retired police officer who is COO of a large security company. The other is a possible witness to a related crime. May we begin now?”