She nodded. “This isn’t a situation of an instinctual fixed action pattern, Angus. This is instinct, or gut feeling, based on learning served by memory and intelligence. You know Lassiter. You’ve studied him. If you think this is him, your neurons are firing the way they should. You’re no doubt correct.”

He grinned. “God, you’re sexy when you go all psychobabble on me.”

She returned his smile. “That’s a first. You would’ve never said that a year ago.”

“Damn straight. I probably turned that corner during the multiple orgasms phase of our relationship.”

She lost the smile. “So. Lassiter, huh?”

“Yes,” Angus said, the humor on his face sliding away to show fury. “He has to move on to the actual team now, Nari. He won’t be able to stop himself.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Six

After inhaling a delicious burger Wolfe brought back for him, Angus finally felt reenergized. He stood and paced in front of the murder board, his mind reeling as he let himself pursue the case as he’d wanted. “First thing we need to determine is what happened to Lassiter’s body. Why did the FBI think he was dead when he wasn’t?” He reached for his creased and coffee-stained manila file folder.

Nari poked her head out of the bedroom, a phone to her ear. “What kind of retainer can you afford for an attorney? That’ll narrow my search.”

“Doesn’t matter. Just find me the best,” Angus said absently. “One who’s free tomorrow, actually.” He looked at Jethro and Wolfe, who sat on barstools once again while Nari disappeared back into the room. “Since I’ve been on this case, I’ve tried to track what could have happened to Lassiter. Back then, I found his hidey-hole, I shot him, and he shot me.”

Jethro nodded. “You were taken to the hospital and had the bullets removed. What happened to Lassiter?”

Angus didn’t need his notes for this. He’d memorized everything. “He was alive at the scene and died on the way to the hospital. The autopsy was performed by Dr. Andrew Palletino, who was one of the best. Nothing in the records indicated any sort of coercion or malfeasance.”

Jethro drank a beer out of the bottle. “You said ‘was.’”

“Yeah. He died of a heart attack about three years ago,” Angus said. “Was in his seventies, overweight, and smoked, believe it or not.” He reached for his own bottle, ignoring the disgruntled look from his dog. “Lassiter’s body was sent to Town House Mortuary, cremated, and then released to the woman who’d served as his nanny. She’s dead as well, of natural causes as far as I could tell.”

“What about the paramedics? The ones in the ambulance?” Wolfe asked, twirling his beer bottle in his hands.