“I have a sister in Fredericksburg. I’ll call her. She can come stay with us for a few days.” Her eyes welled with tears as she looked at her son. “This is going to be so hard for him.”

Bradshaw glanced at Ethel, pain visible on his face. He turned back to Susan. “We’ll help in any way we can. I can have an agent, a woman if you prefer, come stay with you and Davie.”

“Are we in some kind of danger?”

Bradshaw raised his palms to push the thought away. “No, no. We just want to be supportive. This is a terrible tragedy, and if we can be a resource, we want to be here for you. You and Davie.”

“When do you think you might release Johnny’s body?”

“In a few days,” Bradshaw said. “I’m afraid we have to have an autopsy and coordinate our investigation with the Arlington Police Department. They were first on the scene. But I’ll assign a contact person, someone you can call day or night with any question or concern.”

Susan looked up at Ethel. “Could that be you?”

Ethel said nothing. It was Bradshaw’s call.

“Ethel’s not part of the agency.” He searched the elderly woman’s face for a reaction. Ethel gave him a slight nod. “But if she’s willing, we’ll make that happen.”

“I would like that,” Susan said. “Johnny would have liked that.”

“And I’ll be glad to help,” Ethel said. “You call me whenever you want. And if there’s something I can do here, don’t hesitate to ask. Let me get a piece of paper, and I’ll leave you my number.”

Bradshaw pulled a pen and business card from an inside coat pocket. He handed them to Ethel. “You can just write it on the back. That way Susan has both our numbers.”

“My mobile is best,” Ethel said. “I always have it with me.”

Davie looked up at Ethel with curious eyes. “Come together?”

“Correct,” she said. “I’ll come back whenever you want me.”

Ethel and Bradshaw let themselves out. Delivering the painful news had left both of them in pensive moods. On the way back up I-95, Bradshaw spoke of the agency’s appropriate role in the funeral arrangements. Should he offer to speak? Should Susan be encouraged to have an honor guard of agents?

“I wish we knew what was going on,” he said. “Why was he killed? What was in the satchel? What was on his laptop? Without answers, should we simply attend and save any honors till after we can answer these questions?”

Ethel asked herself another question. Why was Susan afraid that Jonathan had killed himself?

Bradshaw’s cell rang, sparing her from having to respond. He spoke softly, limiting his words to “I see,” “Yes,” and “I’ll authorize it.”

He dropped the phone back into his pocket. “Well, you were right.”