Henry didn’t press it. It was rare for Henry even to breathe Gretchen’s name these days. The more the media brought her up, the more TV specials and exposés, the less they talked about her. They both knew she could make you deranged if you let her. The only defense was denial.

Henry nodded at the bag of melted ice on the table and cleared his throat. “How was your birthday?”

Archie smiled thinly. “I have a headache, so it must have been fun, right?”

Henry lifted his bushy gray eyebrows at Archie. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Archie said, wincing as he touched the goose egg on his head.

“Is it over?” Henry asked.

Archie rubbed his eyes. “Leo’s still out there.”

“Can you talk about it?”

Archie hesitated. Technically, Henry wasn’t cleared to be briefed on Archie’s little extracurricular op for the FBI, but Henry already knew everything up until the party. He knew that Leo was working for the DEA. He knew how Jack Reynolds made his money. Henry had known Leo as long as Archie had. Archie needed to talk it through with someone, and he still wasn’t sure how much he could trust Sanchez. “Jack’s working on some deal with the Russians,” Archie told Henry. “The party was just a cover for the meeting. Leo’s on his own. He thinks Sanchez is dirty. He doesn’t trust anybody. I don’t know what to think.”

“Do you trust Leo?” Henry asked.

That was the question, wasn’t it? But Archie couldn’t trust his gut when it came to Leo, because his instincts were clouded by Leo’s relationship with Susan.

“I trust you,” Archie said. He reached into the pocket of his sweats, retrieved the brass pillbox, and held it out to Henry. “There’s a strand of hair in here,” Archie said. “Can you run the DNA?”

“Who do you think it belongs to?” Henry asked, taking the box.

“You’re going to think I’ve gone crazy.”

“I already think you’re crazy.”