My sense of relief is so strong that laughter almost bubbles out of my chest. “Thanks, Kirk.”

“Thank me after I’ve found the guy.”

“Gratitude’s one of my strong suits. You know that.”

“That I do, Mayor. Look, I’m going to need somebody standing post on the bank while I’m down hole. Do you have time to back me up?”

“I’m afraid I’ll be spending tomorrow in court, defending my father.”

“What?”

“It’s a long story. Can you get somebody else?”

“Yeah, my girlfriend can cover it. Just tell me you’ve got my back, legally speaking.”

“Absolutely. I’ll pay any fines and keep you out of jail, no worries.”

“Good enough. Hey, if I do find the guy, what exactly do you want me to bring up?”

“Two or three bones, the bigger the better. I want a DNA match, if possible. I need probable cause for the FBI to come in and drain the whole lake. A bone with barbed wire around it or crushed under an engine block would be fantastic. Photos in situ would be the jackpot.”

“I read you. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks, Kirk. Be careful.”

“Way of life, bro. Out.”

Turning right on State Street, I press END and head away from the river, wondering whether Shad will really force me to go public with the dogfighting photo.

As I park by the old carriage step in front of my town house, I feel a powerful urge to talk to my mother. Where our family is concerned, she’s always known all secrets great and small, though she’s carried most in silence. But before I take that irrevocable step, I need to give Dad one more chance to come clean on his own.

Getting out of my car, I stand in the cold wind blowing up Washington Street and bask in the yellow glow emanating from the first-floor windows of my house. For the past seven years, Caitlin Masters and I have lived in separate houses on opposite sides of this beautiful street. Her Acura is parked in her driveway now, but this living arrangement is soon to change, though not in the way Caitlin expects. I have a breathtaking surprise for her, a wedding present she will not quite believe, and it involves our future home. But today’s events have raised a specter of uncertainty in that regard, one I’ve not yet decided how to handle.

As I start up my steps, a big V-8 engine revs loudly, rumbling between the houses. Headlights flash out of the darkness to my left, streaking through the street in front of my house. Washington is a one-way street that runs toward the river, but these lights are shining from the river. Before I can think further, a big white pickup truck blasts out of the line of cars parked beside the Temple B’nai Israel and roars toward me.