Gagnon gently wipes the back of the watch clean. Barnes clicks away with her camera, her lens just inches from the object. Bastinelli leans in. “Look at the date!”

June. Twenty-four years ago.

Below the date is a filigreed inscription:

TO CW

FROM BC,

WITH LOVE

“Bag!” Gagnon calls out. Another member of the forensics team hustles over with a transparent sleeve. Gagnon carefully lowers the watch in, then removes her gloves.

She leans toward Bastinelli. “CW,” she whispers. “Cole Wright?”

Bastinelli shrugs. “Or Christopher Walken. Or Charlie Watts. Let’s not jump to conclusions.”

“Okay,” says Gagnon. “I won’t if you won’t.” She’s doing her best to keep an open mind. But she can’t help making connections. It’s what she does.

Gagnon rubs her hand across the bagged tennis bracelet. Call it intuition, but she has a strong feeling now about who was wearing it.

I see you, Suzanne. I see you.

CHAPTER
65

Brattleboro, Vermont

In cabin 19 at Montcalm Acres, Garrett is in a great mood. He was able to snag the same unit where he and Brea had their first off-campus date years ago. What better place to tell her the news and reignite their project?

Back then, they had planned to spend a long day exploring local trails, but a late-autumn cloudburst cut their hike short. Not a bad outcome, as it turned out. They’d spent the rest of the day in bed making love while their clothes dried in front of a roaring fire.

That was the day he’d first told Brea that he loved her. Right there, in that saggy, squeaky bed. Garrett can still remember the sound of the rain hammering on the tin roof over their heads. It was perfect.

Tonight, it’s chilly in the cabin. Garrett pulls a wool blanket from a shelf and drapes it around his shoulders for warmth, then puts his laptop on the table near the fireplace. He paid for a load of firewood when he checked in, but it’s not here yet.

Garrett pulls up a stool and opens his laptop to reexamine his notes. He’s thinking that today’s events could make a dramatic prologue: Kidnapped on the open road by the Secret Service. Taken to a small airport for a clandestine interview with the First Gentleman of the United States.

Hell, that’s better than Woodward’s damn parking garage.

Garrett checks his email. The internet service here is iffy. Google takes forever to load.

No reply yet from Ukraine. Not unusual. Daryna works her own hours. And her internet service is spotty too, thanks to Russian missile attacks. It’s not unusual for her to be off the grid for days at a time. She always resurfaces. At least, she always has so far.