'Sure thing,' Mia said with an understanding blink.

'C'mon, kids. Let's go see if your house is on the news. You could be famous!'

Thomas was almost overwhelmed by a feeling of invasion when he stepped inside. Strangers, everywhere he looked, going through the pockets of his home. Two uniformed cops were in his kitchen, leaning against his counter and apparently shooting the breeze. Sam, Gerard, and Dean Heaney stood in an expectant cluster in his living room. Behind them, two women wearing Evidence Response Team jackets seemed to be scanning his carpet.

'Well, Gerard?' Agent Atta asked.

The agent looked at Thomas for a sour moment. 'Still sweeping,' he said to his SAC, 'but other than kiddie porn on the computer'—he graced Thomas with a contemptuous wink—'I don't think we'll find anything.'

Thomas grinned his best fuck-you grin. Scarcely a month passed without some story of some reform-minded political figure arrested on child pornography charges. Just the previous week Thomas had found a leaflet in his department mailbox accusing the government of 'politically motivated cyber-planting'.

'Why would Cassidy come here?' Sam asked, frowning. 'He must have known we'd show up sooner or later.'

'Could be he was simply being sociable,' Atta replied, staring from point to point around the living room, looking for all the world like a disgusted interior decorator. 'Could be he wasn't…' She turned to Thomas. 'You said you passed out around 2.30 or so last night?'

Thomas shrugged. 'That's when I think I pass—'

'So he had the run of the place for about five hours, then.'

'Could've done anything,' Gerard said. To you or your kids, his expression added.

Thomas felt faint. This was not his home. These people were not hunting his best friend.

'I want you to do a walk through, professor,' Atta said, 'check to see if anything is amiss—you know, out of place. Whatever game Cassidy is playing, he seems to think you're an important player. Gerard, Logan, you give him a hand. Make sure he's thorough.'

'You gotta nice dump, here,' Gerard said as they stepped into the den—what used to be Nora's workout room. 'Here's your copy of the warrant, by the way.' He slapped a document against his chest.

Thomas glared at him, trying to decide whether his hostility was real or procedural. 'It's not signed,' he said, scanning the document.

'We'll get our janitor to sign it tomorrow.'

Thomas looked to Sam, who simply shrugged. You brought this on yourself, her look said.