“Well, let’s see. Nothing we don’t know already.” She began to riffle the pages, then stopped suddenly, looked up at me, her face beaming.

“What?” I said, feeling a smile growing on my face, her excitement infectious.

“It’s cool,” she said.

“What?”

She lifted a page, motioned at the mess of paper on the table. “This. All this. We’re back in the chase, Patrick.”

“Yeah, it is.” And until that moment I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed it—untangling the tangles, sniffing for the scent, taking the first step toward demystifying what had previously been unknowable and unapproachable.

But I felt my grin fade for a moment, because it was this very excitement, this addiction to uncovering things that sometimes would be better left covered, which had brought me face-to-face with the howling pestilence and moral rot of Gerry Glynn’s psyche.

This same addiction had put a bullet in Angie’s body, given me scars on my face and nerve damage to one hand, and left me holding Angie’s ex-husband Phil in my arms while he died, gasping and afraid.

“You’re going to be okay,” I’d told him.

“I know,” he said. And died.

And that’s what all this searching and uncovering and chasing could lead to again—the icy knowledge that we probably weren’t okay, any of us. Our hearts and minds were covered because they were fragile, but they were also covered because what often festered in them was bleaker and more depraved than others could bear to look upon.

“Hey,” Angie said, still smiling, but less certainly, “what’s wrong?”

I’ve always loved her smile.

“Nothing,” I said. “You’re right. This is cool.”

“Damn straight,” she said and we high-fived across the table. “We’re back in business. Criminals beware.”

“They’re shaking in their boots,” I assured her.

4

HAMLYN & KOHL WORLDWIDE INVESTIGATIONS

THE JOHN HANCOCK TOWER, 33RD FLOOR

150 CLARENDON STREET

BOSTON, MA 02116

Operative’s Report

TO: Mr. Trevor Stone

FR: Mr. Jay Becker, Investigator

RE: The disappearance of Ms. Desiree Stone

February 16, 1997

First day of investigation into the disappearance of Desiree Stone, last seen leaving her residence, 1468 Oak Bluff Drive, Marblehead, at 11 a.m., EST, February 12.

This investigator interviewed Mr. Pietro Leone, cashier of a parking garage at 500 Boylston Street, Boston, which led to the discovery of Ms. Stone’s white 1995 Saab Turbo on Level P2 of said garage. Ticket stub found in the glove compartment of car revealed it had arrived at garage at exactly 11:51 a.m., February 12. Search of the car and the premises nearest to it yielded no suggestion of foul play. Doors were locked, alarm was engaged.