“I don’t get that reference.”

“Me neither, but somehow it sounded right.”

“It did,” she agreed. “I miss you.”

“Me too.”

“This job.”

“Yes?”

“If I get it—and that’s a big if—but if I get it, they may want me to relocate to Atlanta or DC.”

“Okay,” Myron said.

“You’d move?”

“Sure.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

“I mean, I could commute at first,” she said.

“No commute. We move.”

“God, you’re sexy when you’re bossy.”

“And even when I’m not.”

“Don’t push it.” Then Terese said, “Are you sure? I can back out. There will be other job opportunities.”

Myron had lived his whole life in this area. He had been born here, raised here, spent four years in college in North Carolina, returned here. He was so attached to this area that he had even bought his childhood home rather than let go of the past.

“I’m sure,” Myron said. “I want you to have the career you want.”

“Ugh, don’t sound so PC.”

“I also want to be a kept man.”

“That might require performing sexual favors on demand,” Terese said.

Myron sighed. “I give and I give.”

She laughed. Terese didn’t laugh often. He loved the sound. “I better get ready,” she said. “The second interview is in an hour.”

“Good luck.”

“Where are you headed?” Terese asked.

“After this call? To a cold shower. Then I’m going to see my parents and Mickey.”

“I saw that press interview on TV.”

“Any thoughts?”

“What you said.”

“What’s that?”

“You’re missing something.”

They got off the phone then with a minimum of mushiness. Myron started driving toward his hometown. Could he really do it? Could he move out of the area he had always called home?

The answer, for the first time in his life, was a resounding yes.

Win called him during the drive.

“Hello?”

“Tell all,” Win said.

“Did you see the Moore family interview?” Myron asked.

“I did.”

In the background, Myron could hear men shouting in a foreign language. “Where are you exactly?”

“Rome.”

“Italy?”

“No. Rome, Wyoming.”

“No reason for sarcasm.”

“Who needs a reason?”

“Brooke is not positive the boy is Patrick,” Myron said.

“Yes, she texted me that.”

“I called PT down in Quantico. He has a friend who might be able to help us. She does stuff with forensic facial reconstruction or something.”

“I did my own cursory check,” Win said. “Comparing a still shot of what we saw today with Patrick at age six and via age progression.”

“Any conclusions?”

“No,” Win said. “But I ask myself two questions. If it isn’t Patrick, then who is it? If it isn’t Patrick, what possible motive would Nancy and Hunter have to lie about it?”

Myron thought about it. “I don’t know.”

“A DNA test would help.”

“It would,” Myron agreed. “But again, suppose we find out it isn’t Patrick. What would that mean? You got a second?”

“I do.”

“So let’s look at all the possible angles, even the most outrageous.”