“Thanks! Gotta go!” Gagnon doesn’t even wait for a goodbye from Jan. She grabs her files and starts shuffling through her interview records. Felicia Bonanno! Where is Felicia? Here! She runs her hand down the transcript pages, flipping through until she finds what she wants, right near the end.

GAGNON: So, just going back once more—you’re sure you don’t remember the name of the restaurant Cole and Suzanne were going to that night? Even the type? Italian? French?

BONANNO: No, I’m sorry. Someplace on the shore. I just know they were meeting at the Walmart so Suzanne could buy some apartment supplies first.

Gagnon grabs a yellow highlighter and circles the exchange. With her other hand, she reaches for the phone. She taps the extension of Beth Condon, an analyst at police headquarters, fresh out of MIT.

“This is Beth.”

“Beth, it’s Detective Gagnon upstairs. I need a favor. I need you to find all the Walmart locations within twenty miles of Seabrook.”

CHAPTER
74

Columbia University

As I walk with Dr. Graham through Morningside Park, I realize that during my three years as his student, I never once saw him outside a lecture hall or his office.

He points to a bench facing a wide sidewalk lined with trees. “Right here is good.” He sits down heavily and turns to me. “I’m so sorry about Garrett. I only met him once, that afternoon when he picked you up after class. Nice young man. Talented too. I’ve read his books.”

I remember that day. We’d just found an apartment in Washington Heights and were so happy to be moving in together and starting our professional careers. I also remember how tough Dr. Graham’s classes were. He pushed us hard but always stayed after the lectures to answer questions.

I’m bursting with questions now. “Dr. Graham, why the cloak-and-dagger? Why call yourself Brother? And why were you watching us in the first place?”

“You’ve been gifted with a piercing mind and a knack for challenging authority—even mine, from time to time.”

Dr. Graham never made a secret of the fact that he had worked at the FBI before he became a federal judge and long before he retired from the bench to become a law professor.

“How did you find me? How did you know what Garrett and I were working on?”

“I may be old, Brea, but I still hear things. When I found out about the book you were writing, I knew how important it was and how dangerous the investigation could be.”

“So you were deliberately trying to scare me.”

“I was.”

“What do you know about the old accusations against Cole Wright?” I ask. “The rape of a freshman girl at Dartmouth? The disappearance of Suzanne Bonanno? Did you know that on the day Garrett was murdered, he was coming from a private meeting with Wright?”