“Danner speculates he may have fallen.” Williams shrugged. “No witnesses. We may never learn the truth on that one.”

He cleared his throat and looked straight at me. “The FBI confiscated Hand’s body out of legitimate concern for ricin contamination.”

“And destroyed it for what reason?” I kept my gaze steady on his.

“The cremation was accidental.”

“And stealing our goddamn file? That accidental, too?” The base of the water globe smacked the desktop.

“I have been asked to formally apologize to Dr. Brennan and Dr. Larabee for the destruction of Eli Hand’s remains. Requesting files from the top level of local law enforcement is routine.” Williams coolly flicked a speck from his perfectly creased pants leg even as he directed the same coolness toward us. “The bureau is in possession of information concerning the Loyalty Movement that I am not—”

“Yeah, yeah. At liberty to divulge. You’re bloody James Bond.”

“I can tell you this. Members of the Patriot Posse also blackmailed Bogan into experimenting with abrin.” Williams’s calm was unshakable.

“Why?” I asked.

“In Danner’s words, certain elements were not morally opposed to acts of civil disobedience. Ricin had its drawbacks. They wanted something better.”

“The bastards were thinking of killing people,” I said.

“But not Danner. He’s Peter frickin’ Pan.”

“Wayne Gamble wasn’t paranoid.” I ignored Slidell’s sarcasm. “The FBI did have his family under surveillance back in 1998.”

Williams nodded.

I turned to Slidell. “What about Bogan? Is he talking?”

“Like Danner, he’s looking to cut a deal. Bogan’s got shit to offer, so the DA’s offering zilch.” The chair creaked ominously as Skinny leaned back and stretched his legs. “I’m floating some legal jargon his way. Stuff like ‘lethal injection.’ ‘Shank.’ The ever popular ‘bend over, punk.’ ”

“Is Bogan impressed?”

Slidell laced his fingers behind his head.

“He will be.”

Chapter 36

THE NEXT AFTERNOON BIRDIE AND I WERE RELAXING ON THE terrace. I was reading a book on the history of NASCAR. He was batting a mangled cloth mouse around on the brick.

We were both enjoying a Dr. Hook CD. The cat’s favorite. He actually stops to listen when “You Make My Pants Want to Get Up and Dance” plays.

Hearing a car, I glanced to my left.

A blue Taurus was cruising past the manor house on the circle drive.

“Heads up, Bird. Our day is about to be filled with sunshine.”

The cat stayed focused on his burlap rodent.

The Taurus disappeared behind a stand of magnolias, reappeared, and pulled in beside the Annex. Seconds later, Slidell hauled himself out.

I closed my book and watched Skinny trudge up the walk. He really is a very good trudger.

“Glad to see you’re following doctor’s orders.” Sun shot from the lenses of Slidell’s mock Ray-Bans.

“One more day,” I said. “Then back to work.”

“Yep. The lady’s stubborn as belly fat.”