The name of the man accused of leading the assault was ironic. One of the languages she’d studied was French. And if loosely translated, the man’s name came out as “Angel wants it.” It was an odd play on words that was used most notably in the sixteenth century by authorities when certain cases were tried and a guilty verdict was desired. The phrase “Le Roi le Veut” meant that the king wanted the accused found guilty—whether or not he really was, apparently. The mysterious Angel was obviously an educated man with a knowledge of European history. Michelle was puzzled over why such a man would choose a lifestyle that involved violence.

Her first stop was Jacobsville, Texas, where she arranged an interview with Eb Scott, the counterterrorism expert, whose men had been involved in the massacre. Michelle knew him, from a distance.

Her father had gone to school with him and they were acquaintances. Her father had said there wasn’t a finer man anywhere, that Eb was notorious for backing lost causes and fighting for the underdog. That didn’t sound like a man who would order the murder of helpless women and children.

Eb shook her hand and invited her into his house. His wife and children were gone for the day, shopping in San Antonio for summer clothing. It was late spring already.

“Thank you for seeing me,” Michelle said when they were seated. “Especially under the circumstances.”

“Hiding from the press is never a good idea, but at times, in matters like this, it’s necessary, until the truth can be ferreted out,” Eb said solemnly. His green eyes searched hers. “You’re Alan Godfrey’s daughter.”

“Yes,” she said, smiling.

“You used to spend summers in Comanche Wells with your grandparents.” He smiled back. “Minette Carson speaks well of you. She did an interview with me yesterday. Hopefully, some of the truth will trickle down to the mass news media before they crucify my squad leader.”

“Yes. This man, Angel,” she began, looking over her notes while Eb Scott grimaced and tried not to reveal what he really knew about the man, “his name is quite odd.”

“Le Veut?” He smiled again. “He gets his way. He’s something of an authority on sixteenth-century European history. He and Kilraven, one of the feds who’s married to a local girl, go toe-to-toe over whether or not Mary Queen of Scots really helped Lord Bothwell murder her husband.”

“Has this man worked for you, with you, for a long time?” she asked.

He nodded. “Many years. He’s risked his life time and time again to save innocents. I can promise you that when the truth comes out, and it will, he’ll be exonerated.”

She was typing on her small notebook computer as he spoke. “He’s a Canadian national?”

“He has dual citizenship, here and in Canada,” he corrected. “But he’s lived in the States most of his life.”