Back Every Last Fear
Chapters (72)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Notice
  3. PROLOGUE
  4. CHAPTER 1
  5. CHAPTER 2
  6. CHAPTER 3
  7. CHAPTER 4
  8. CHAPTER 5
  9. CHAPTER 6
  10. CHAPTER 7
  11. CHAPTER 8
  12. CHAPTER 9
  13. CHAPTER 10
  14. CHAPTER 11
  15. CHAPTER 12
  16. CHAPTER 13
  17. CHAPTER 14
  18. CHAPTER 15
  19. CHAPTER 16
  20. CHAPTER 17
  21. CHAPTER 18
  22. CHAPTER 19
  23. CHAPTER 20
  24. CHAPTER 21
  25. CHAPTER 22
  26. CHAPTER 23
  27. CHAPTER 24
  28. CHAPTER 25
  29. CHAPTER 26
  30. CHAPTER 27
  31. CHAPTER 28
  32. CHAPTER 29
  33. CHAPTER 30
  34. CHAPTER 31
  35. CHAPTER 32
  36. CHAPTER 33
  37. CHAPTER 34
  38. CHAPTER 35
  39. CHAPTER 36
  40. CHAPTER 37
  41. CHAPTER 38
  42. CHAPTER 39
  43. CHAPTER 40
  44. CHAPTER 41
  45. CHAPTER 42
  46. CHAPTER 43
  47. CHAPTER 44
  48. CHAPTER 45
  49. CHAPTER 46
  50. CHAPTER 47
  51. CHAPTER 48
  52. CHAPTER 49
  53. CHAPTER 50
  54. CHAPTER 51
  55. CHAPTER 52
  56. CHAPTER 53
  57. CHAPTER 54
  58. CHAPTER 55
  59. CHAPTER 56
  60. CHAPTER 57
  61. CHAPTER 58
  62. CHAPTER 59
  63. CHAPTER 60
  64. CHAPTER 61
  65. CHAPTER 62
  66. CHAPTER 63
  67. CHAPTER 64
  68. CHAPTER 65
  69. EPILOGUE
  70. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  71. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  72. 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.”