Glass stopped walking and looked at Caitlin with disconcerting intensity. “You want some free advice? Don’t wait. You never know what’s going to happen. How old are you, thirty-two?”

“Thirty-five.”

Jordan held Caitlin’s eyes for another few seconds, then blinked and looked away. “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”

“It’s fine,” Caitlin said, starting down the shore of the Jericho Hole again. “I just don’t want my wedding tainted by Penn’s father being in trouble. Dr. Cage’s health is pretty fragile.”

A cloud seemed to pass over Glass’s face before she started walking again. “Seriously, I’m sorry I was bitching. I just … John and I have hardly had any time alone since the storm. I sympathize with Henry, believe me. He’s done a lot of work that the Bureau should have done decades ago. But frankly—if you don’t mind a little oversharing—I’ve been trying to get pregnant for the past six months, and this little detour doesn’t help.”

Caitlin instantly flashed back to her morning pregnancy test.

“I know I’m old,” the photographer said, as if to counter silent criticism, “but I was always so—”

“I wasn’t thinking that,” Caitlin said. “I say go for it. You deserve a family as much as anybody else.”

Jordan shrugged. “Yeah, well … I’m not home much.”

“I know,” Caitlin said, too loudly. “I see your credit under pictures from all over the world.”

Jordan’s eyes revealed a shocking vulnerability. “Oh, I lead the glamorous life. A month ago, Angelina Jolie asked how I’d feel about her playing me in a film. It’s surreal.” She looked at the ground and shook her head sadly. “Why does a woman who’s adopting babies left and right want to play a childless woman?” The photographer grimaced, then looked up at Caitlin. “I’m so ready to spend some time around joy and innocence instead of pain and death. I let John hire me as a contract photographer for this expedition so we could be together for these two days, but it sucks. He won’t even sleep for the next two days, much less take time for me.”

“Why is he so gung ho about this case?”

Glass panned her gaze across the horizon, as if searching for new perspectives. “John’s very tight with an old-time FBI agent named Dwight Stone. These cold cases from the Ku Klux Klan days are like a holy quest for them.”

“I know Dwight,” Caitlin said with a touch of pride. “I met him on—”

“The Del Payton case,” Glass finished. “I know about that. And I know about your Pulitzer. Good work, by the way. I read your Payton stories last night in the hotel, on the Internet.”