“Not many more days,” he said, releasing my hand.

“When is retirement official?”

“Two weeks.” He nodded toward the door. “Come on up to my office.”

If I’d just been subjected to a test, it appeared I’d passed. “Thanks.”

“Can I carry your bag?”

“No, thank you,” I said. “I’ve hauled these around so much, they’re an extension of me.”

Opening the door, he waited for me to pass. “Business is good?”

“Can’t complain.”

I followed him up two flights of stairs, doing my best not to huff and puff, and then through a familiar maze of cubicles. Like him, the place was more careworn, but not much had changed in the last thirteen years. He led me to the same cubicle I’d sat in as a teenager. The desk was still covered with stacks of files, pink message slips, and large yellow pads covered in notes written in block letters. I glanced at the pictures of his three kids, who’d morphed from young teenagers to late twenties. No wedding band on his ring finger these days.

“Where was the wedding?” he asked.

“At the courthouse. Very casual. Nice to see a couple not focused on all the bells and whistles.”

“My first wedding was like that. Big family event, friends on my wife’s side I didn’t know. Second one was smaller but still had about fifty people. Next time, it’s going to be just the two of us.”

“Next time?”

“Getting married at the end of the summer. Hoping now that I’m not working unmanageable schedules, I’ll have a chance.”

“Fingers crossed.”

He motioned toward a worn plastic seat next to his desk as he sat in the swivel chair. “Happy belated birthday.”

“You remembered.”

“I remember a lot about your sister’s case. Thirty now, right?”

“That’s right. Officially an adult, I suppose.”

He leaned back, threaded his fingers together, and rested them on his chest. “I don’t have anything new for you, Marisa. No new leads.”

“But the case is still open. It’s not cold.”

“It’s active for another two weeks. Then all bets are off.”

“So much for my birthday wish.”

“Believe me, I don’t like leaving the job knowing this case is open. Always stings when a young person like Clare dies.”

Whoever killed Clare had stripped her body naked and laid it in the James River. Later, the medical examiner would report she’d been strangled. (It takes at least six minutes to strangle a person to death. Six. Minutes.)