Agent Fields winced, his salt-and-pepper eyebrows drawing down. “Miles Brown suffered a stroke and is in St. Juliet’s on the east side of DC. He has no family, so we put him up.”

That would explain why Force couldn’t get to him. “I’d like to see his office and all of his records.”

“His office was cleared out,” Fields said, clasping his gnarled hands together. “Per procedure. Nothing out of the ordinary there.”

Right. Except that Miles had called, and there had been a sense of urgency in his voice. “Yet you’re here,” Angus murmured.

Agent Rutherford sighed, looking as if a bartender had served him too many olives in his martini. “We know you’ve been through an ordeal, but—”

“Ordeal?” Angus growled. “Are you kidding me?” He’d give anything for his gun.

Fields held up an age-spotted hand. “We’re very sorry for your loss, but this is important.”

Loss? Had he really just said the word “loss” to him? Angus took two steps toward the agents, and Roscoe kept pace with him, low growls emerging from his gut. “Leave. Now.” Angus still hadn’t dealt with the fact that a serial killer had murdered his sister . . . and it was Angus’s fault. Loss didn’t cover it. Not by a long shot.

Rutherford eyed the dog warily. “We want you to stop pursuing the issue. Lassiter is dead. Let him lie.”

Angus snorted. Roscoe remained at attention but stopped growling. “Why are you here, then? If the case was really closed, you wouldn’t bother.” Homeland Security had barely been able to shut down news of Lassiter’s former employment before it became public. Of course the agency wanted this dropped.

Fields shuffled his feet, his gaze descending to his scuffed shoes.

Angus straightened. His gut churned and his instincts flared to life. “Say what you need to say.”

Rutherford swallowed and looked toward the older Fields.

Fields sighed and glanced up again, experience stamped hard on his square-shaped face. “Let it go. We’re not going to give you a choice.”

Ah, shit. Lassiter really was alive. No way would two HDD agents have sought him out if he wasn’t getting close to something. Or maybe they were really afraid he’d let the public know about Lassiter’s former employment. Governmental agencies had definitely taken a beating lately in the press, and Homeland Security wanted to keep HDD under wraps.

Angus stood perfectly still, his mind focusing despite the booze. “Well, then. We all know you don’t want me talking to the press. I guess, for now, that gives me leverage.” Just how much? How worried were they?