“I know that, and I’m not insinuating that I even could single-handedly change the story, but the fact is, the story hasn’t been great lately, and Hamilton’s murder is a big opportunity for us to do what we do best. I’d still be working right now if I hadn’t been suspended.” In fact, she needed to check in with McBride and Tyrone to see what they had so far. She reached for her phone on the bedside table and fired off a text to Jeannie asking for an update.

Nothing new to report yet. Lindsey has transported the body to the morgue. Waiting for Hill to notify the wife and the FBI deputy director so we can issue a statement. Working with the Public Affairs people on that and wishing you were here.

I may be able to come back. More to come tomorrow.

Fingers crossed.

Keep me posted.

Will do.

It was good to know her team missed her and wished she could be there to guide them through the early stages of the investigation.

Sam returned the phone to the table and relaxed into Nick’s embrace. The outside world was always tugging at them, but for now they could pretend, at least for a few more hours, that they were alone in paradise.

* * *

STILL REELING FROM the sight of Troy Hamilton’s dead body, Avery drove through the darkness on Route 66 on the way to Chantilly, while wishing he was home with Shelby watching a movie or one of her mindless cooking shows. Anything would be better than trying to process the loss—especially under such bizarre circumstances—of a man he’d admired and respected.

“I need to call the deputy director,” Hill said. “I don’t feel right waiting to tell him. He won’t understand why I did that, especially when he hears I found the body.”

“You’ve handled everything by the book,” Farnsworth said from the front seat.

“Agreed,” Malone said.

“I still need to tell him.”

“Go ahead and make the call,” Farnsworth said, “but ask him to keep a lid on it until we can notify the wife.”

Dustin Jacoby’s number was in Avery’s list of contacts, so he used the voice assist feature on his phone to make the call. He’d worked directly for Jacoby at one time and considered him a friend. After four rings, Jacoby’s voicemail picked up.

“Dustin, it’s Avery Hill. Give me a call as soon as you get this message. It’s urgent.” If he didn’t hear from the deputy director within the hour, he’d go through official channels to track him down.