Archie and Sanchez followed the concrete path along the river until it diverged from the interstate and the din of traffic waned. The Willamette gleamed serenely. A nearby sign warned that fish caught in the river might be toxic. “Leo’s not answering his phone,” Archie said.

Sanchez turned his collar up against the chill. “I know,” Sanchez said.

“Everything okay?” Archie asked.

Sanchez stopped walking, so Archie knew it was bad.

“He’s on the island,” Sanchez said. “They took him there last night. We have surveillance outside. I have no idea what’s going on inside.”

“Does he know you’re his contact?” Archie asked.

“If he read the note I sent with the flowers,” Sanchez said. He squinted out across the river. “He’s cut off. We can’t contact him. There’s no way to get a message through.”

If anything happened to Leo, Archie knew that Susan would never forgive him. “You need to extract him,” Archie said.

Sanchez peered at Archie, worry lines creasing his craggy forehead. “This isn’t your problem, friend,” he said. “You’re too close.”

In the distance, Archie could hear the pedestrian alert bells of the Steel Bridge readying to lift. “Are we still talking about Leo?” he asked.

“What do you think we’re talking about?” Sanchez asked carefully.

Archie had worked the Beauty Killer case for thirteen years. She had cost him everything. Gretchen would always be his problem. They could take him off the case, but she would always be his.

A brisk wind rippled the surface of the river. A jogger, still thumb-sized, was heading south on the esplanade toward them.

“We’re talking about Leo,” Archie said. “I brought him to you guys,” he added. “I’m the one who convinced him that he could do more good by staying in his goddamn family than by leaving. He came to me because he wanted my help getting away from his father. He trusted me. And I wrapped him up in a bow and delivered him to Carl.”

Sanchez nodded and looked out, stone-faced, at the Willamette. Up river, the center of the Steel Bridge had started to raise, lifting the old wooden machinery shack affixed to the upper deck along with it. “I need to determine his status,” Sanchez said.

“So do it,” Archie said.

Ginger barked excitedly. The jogger was almost upon them.

“There’s no way in,” Sanchez said. “Our resources are limited here by necessity. If we ask the wrong people to help, it could get him killed.”