Why did he have to offer a twenty-thousand-dollar reward? Did he have any idea how many people were going to claim to have been there at the house? Or how much work it would be for our team to vet and follow up on them all?

He gave a hotline number that I didn’t recognize, and I guessed he must have set it up without Bureau authorization.

What in the world is going on here?

After he finished, the reporters peppered him with questions: “Are the police and the FBI looking into this?” “Is there any reason to believe that the person is complicit somehow in Jon’s death?” “Why haven’t we heard about this before now?”

While I listened to him offer his responses, I watched DeYoung rub his forehead in exasperation. The buttons on the phone in front of him were already starting to light up. I guessed that the director would be one of the people calling. Probably Public Affairs. Maybe the governor. What a mess.

It was probably best to let DeYoung tackle those calls on his own, so I signaled to him that I was leaving. He wearily waved for me to go, and I slipped into the hallway. The rest of the team followed after me.

The press would undoubtedly want an official statement from the Bureau, and I was just glad that providing one didn’t fall under my job description.

Today DeYoung looked even more worn out than usual.

I didn’t know too much about his past, just that he was single and had been with the Bureau for nearly twenty years. Came from Cincinnati. He moved up through the ranks on the fast track to AD. He didn’t keep family photos on his office wall or his desk, and we didn’t discuss our personal lives much. I didn’t even know if he’d ever been married or had any kids, but that wasn’t too unusual. Many of the people who work for the Bureau do all they can to separate home life and work life.

While I was on my way back to the lobby, I finally heard from Tessa.

“What’s with all the messages you keep leaving me?” she complained.

“Why didn’t you reply earlier?”

“What—am I supposed to walk around staring at my phone’s screen every second? What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

“I’ve been looking for you. I was worried about you.”

“I’m fine. I’m at this coffee shop down the street. Renaldo’s. I can be back in, like, two minutes.”

I debated giving away that I already knew she was there but decided against it.

“I thought I told you to wait in the lobby?”

“You said I could stay there. But I don’t recall it as an official order.”