Chapters (72)
- Title Page
- Copyright Notice
- PROLOGUE
- CHAPTER 1
- CHAPTER 2
- CHAPTER 3
- CHAPTER 4
- CHAPTER 5
- CHAPTER 6
- CHAPTER 7
- CHAPTER 8
- CHAPTER 9
- CHAPTER 10
- CHAPTER 11
- CHAPTER 12
- CHAPTER 13
- CHAPTER 14
- CHAPTER 15
- CHAPTER 16
- CHAPTER 17
- CHAPTER 18
- CHAPTER 19
- CHAPTER 20
- CHAPTER 21
- CHAPTER 22
- CHAPTER 23
- CHAPTER 24
- CHAPTER 25
- CHAPTER 26
- CHAPTER 27
- CHAPTER 28
- CHAPTER 29
- CHAPTER 30
- CHAPTER 31
- CHAPTER 32
- CHAPTER 33
- CHAPTER 34
- CHAPTER 35
- CHAPTER 36
- CHAPTER 37
- CHAPTER 38
- CHAPTER 39
- CHAPTER 40
- CHAPTER 41
- CHAPTER 42
- CHAPTER 43
- CHAPTER 44
- CHAPTER 45
- CHAPTER 46
- CHAPTER 47
- CHAPTER 48
- CHAPTER 49
- CHAPTER 50
- CHAPTER 51
- CHAPTER 52
- CHAPTER 53
- CHAPTER 54
- CHAPTER 55
- CHAPTER 56
- CHAPTER 57
- CHAPTER 58
- CHAPTER 59
- CHAPTER 60
- CHAPTER 61
- CHAPTER 62
- CHAPTER 63
- CHAPTER 64
- CHAPTER 65
- EPILOGUE
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- Newsletter Sign-up
The first man was taller than she’d expected. She’d seen him only in photos and media appearances. The head of Marconi Chicago, Devin Milbank. If the office was dirty—and it was—so was he.
“Special Agent Keller,” he said in his deep baritone. He shook her hand, a tight squeeze with lots of eye contact. He motioned to the other man, who was almost a foot shorter than Milbank, rotund in a pinstripe suit. “This is Mel Bradford, our general counsel.” The man stuck out his sausage-finger hands and gave Keller a vise of a shake.
“Are we waiting on anyone else?” Milbank said.
“Just me,” Keller said.
He nodded as if he were impressed by that. Or maybe relieved: the meeting couldn’t be anything serious if they’d sent a woman all by her lonesome.
They sat near the end of the long glossy table.
Milbank began. “It’s not every day we get a visit from the FBI. How can we help you, Agent Keller?”
“I’m here about Evan Pine.”
The lawyer next to Milbank seemed to relax immediately. He sat more naturally, less stiff in the leather chair.
Milbank said, “We couldn’t believe it. What a tragedy.”
Keller nodded. “It looks like an accident,” she said, “but when an American dies abroad under unusual circumstances, we need to look into it.”
“I get it,” Milbank said. “We’ve received several calls from reporters. After that TV show, Evan was something of a celebrity.”
“How long did Mr. Pine work here?” Keller already knew this, but needed to begin somewhere, get him talking.
“In this office, about seven years. Before that, he was with the Omaha branch for nearly twenty years. The firm let him transfer because of that business with his son. The family needed a fresh start.” He didn’t mention firing Pine.
“Could you tell me who Mr. Pine’s closest friends were in the office?”
Milbank let out a breath. “Evan wasn’t really close with anyone here. That was sort of the problem.”
“What do you mean?”
“Evan never really engaged with the office. He was always distracted, preoccupied. The first couple of years we just thought it was the transition. But it didn’t change. Until the documentary aired, we didn’t understand the extent of his struggles.”
“But you kept him on for several years.” Keller said this as an observation, not a question.
“He had a major account,” Milbank explained. “Adair Irrigation was pretty loyal to him. Stuck by him for nearly all of that time, even after the Netflix show. An executive there apparently was an old friend of Evan’s father-in-law.”
“I gather something changed? I mean, I understand you let him go recently.”