Mom nods helplessly as I disappear through the back door, but she bolts it shut as soon as I’m outside.

My cell phone rings when I take out my keys—a number I don’t recognize. Clicking the talk button, I say, “Hang on!” then climb into the Audi and start the engine. “Who is this?”

“John Kaiser.”

“Thank God. Have you got anywhere on being able to help my father come in?”

“I’m working on it. The best we can hope for is a surrender to us on federal charges. But with a dead state trooper, the politicos down here are going to light up the phones in Washington if I try to take him away from them. I’m pressing for it, but my SAC has been fighting turf battles with the locals every day since Katrina.”

I grit my teeth in frustration. “Please do what you can. I haven’t had any luck finding him yet, but I will.”

“Watch your tail while you look. I checked up on Randall Regan. He’s a bad son of a bitch.”

“I learned the hard way, as usual. Hey, have you got anything on the Big Ears yet?”

“Uh, yeah. I’ve got Regan telling Brody Royal that you assaulted him in the restroom of a restaurant. He’s thinking of pressing charges.”

“Is that all they said? No mention of what I said to Regan in the diner?”

“Nope. He told Royal you sat down at his table and harassed a coworker he was with. Then he went into the restroom to take a leak and you attacked him. Two waitresses have already confirmed that story, by the way. If you go by what they said on the phone, Regan and Royal are as clean as a nun’s drawers.”

“Damn it, John. They must have figured out my game. Regan didn’t say a word in the restaurant, like he expected me to be wearing a wire.”

The FBI agent sighs. “You know the odds of getting quick results are low, especially pushing as hard as you are. You’re so keyed up Regan probably read you like a book. Setups always take time. Just promise me you’re not going to make the same kind of approach to Brody Royal.”

Not unless I have no other option. “You can rest easy on that score.”

“Good. Stay in touch.”

Hanging up, I back my Audi onto Washington Street, then pull onto Broadway and drive along the bluff to State Street, wondering where to go next. Where would Dad run with his life on the line? Even if a thousand people would risk their lives for him, there can’t be more than a handful whom he would place in the line of fire. I quickly discard my first few ideas, but then a chill raises the hair on my arms and neck.