Jon’s internship . . . The quantum encryption research . . . Duane said you had no idea how deep this goes . . .

Earlier, Marcus Rockwell had given me his cell number. Now, I called it.

“Marcus, this is Agent Bowers. Did you find anything out about Duane?”

“I confirmed that he was the one behind the postings. We shut down his account, and we’re tracking all of his contacts.”

If I was thinking in the right direction, I needed to have a longer conversation with Mr. Rockwell.

“I need to see you, Marcus.”

“What is it?”

“Can you meet me at the Jacob K. Javits Federal Building?”

“When?”

“As soon as possible. I have one other thing I need to take care of first.”

“I can probably make it in an hour or so. Will that work?”

I wasn’t sure, but I said yes.

“What is this concerning?” he asked.

“I just need to resolve a few questions regarding the postings.”

Then I called Senator Murray, and he agreed to meet me at the Field Office as well.

Okay, let’s see how this goes.

On my way to the hospital, I got word that Calvin had pulled through surgery alright. Then I heard from Angela that she and Lacey had come up with a match on the search for flight plans from private jets near the sites of the suicides in Seattle and Miami. “You’re not going to believe this,” she said, “but I have a name.”

“Marcus Rockwell,” I said.

Silence on the line, then: “How did you know that?”

“Let’s just call it a lucky guess.”

I reached Thurman to find out if he had more information about the donations to the charities and learned that the amount varied for the different victims, but it averaged a hundred thousand dollars.

So, that’s what it costs these days to stand by and watch someone take his or her life.

++++

Since their clothes were soaking wet, the hospital provided both Christie and her daughter with a set of scrubs to wear.

She could have told Tessa about her cancer while they waited for Pat, but, just as she’d decided while she was at the monastery, she still felt that he needed to be the first to know.

++++

I parked and hastened into the hospital, recalling Christie’s stories about the sea turtle hatchlings and the baby polar bear.

She’d been preparing to tell me something else, had put it off, and I had the sense that I was finally going to find out the significance of those two television-watching experiences all those years apart.

I made my way through the emergency room waiting area to the exam room where the nurse at admitting told me my family would be.

The death of those animals and the lies told to protect the innocent.

What did that have to do with us?