Bottom line—Spiker’s DNA had never been compared to the Hydra’s.

Cursing to herself, McDade took a breath and let it out slowly.

She had to set the issue aside.

For now, she had to deal with Ray Wyatt.

Transom bells rang when she entered the diner. It was a cozy place, where the tables were covered with red-and-white-checkered vinyl tablecloths, and the air smelled of coffee, deep-fried food, and cooked bacon.

She found Wyatt alone at a corner table.

A man with a white apron, carrying a coffee carafe and two menus, followed her.

“Coffee?” he said.

They both said yes. He poured and left the plastic-covered menus.

“Good to see you, Jill.”

“Good to see you.” She fixed her coffee. “I’m sorry I don’t have much time, so let’s get to it. Why’re you here?”

“I told you, I’m doing an anniversary story on the Moore case.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it. Why’re you here?”

“Had some regional meetings.”

“Really? Did you meet in Fletcher Seaver’s trailer?”

McDade said nothing.

“Why were you involved in his arrest?” Wyatt asked. “My understanding is that it’s tied to Samantha Moore’s case.”

“Well, she’s a New York resident from my coverage area.”

“I’m not buying it. She’s from Queens. You’ve got resident agents who cover Queens. You’re in Manhattan. And you’ve got people here.”

McDade shook her head, then sipped coffee.

“Seaver was interviewed to clarify a few things. He’s not under arrest, not charged, he’s free. No story.”

“I’ll decide if there’s a story. That’s my job, Jill.”

McDade stared at him.

“Ray, you can do whatever you like, but a little advice: before you report anything, check with me, on background, to make sure you have the facts.”

“And let’s see if I have the facts,” he said. “It’s a fact that you’re a long way from 26 Federal Plaza in Manhattan, and you’re on the Hydra task force. The way I see it, those facts point to another—the Hydra.”

McDade was silent.

“Is the Hydra tied to Moore?” he asked.

She looked away for a moment, then back at him, and sighed.

“There’s my answer,” Wyatt said.

“Ray, listen. I can’t say anything.” Her eyes softened. “Will you respect that, please?”

He caressed his cup, and then a shadow fell over them.

“Anything to eat?” the man in the apron asked.

“No, thank you,” McDade said.

“We’re good with coffee,” Wyatt said.

The man left, and Wyatt looked at McDade, thinking.

“How about this?” Wyatt said. “I’ll check with you before I report anything, but you agree to keep me exclusively in the loop on what’s breaking.”

She let a moment pass before answering.