The kids head upstairs and Jean follows me into the kitchen.

“You look terrible, Tim. Talk to me.”

“Not sure I’ve ever told you about Ramon. I helped him get his job at Marterelli’s. Our IT guy. One of the sweetest, nicest people you’d ever meet. Everybody loved him. It’s like…ripping a hole in the agency’s heart. Everybody seems in shock.”

“And how about you, love?” she asks.

“You know, I guess I’m okay, all things considered. Truth is, I’ve seen worse, as you probably know.

“Remember when I’d call you from over there, in Iraq, when I was in the middle of all that mayhem and violence?”

“Yes, I…”

“Well, I tried to make sure you couldn’t feel the horror. I suppose it was some kind of warped preparation for all this.

“This is definitely tough, this murder, so close to home, but I’ll be fine. Got to be. Agency’s counting on me for support.”

“Oh, honey. I know they can. You’re the best.” I’m even more thankful than usual for my wife’s love.

Chapter 10

Saturday morning I grab Brady and take him to his soccer game down at Croton Point Park, which juts out into the Hudson and offers gorgeous views of Rockland County on the other side of the river, a few miles south of West Point.

Soon as we get there Brady jumps out of the car and runs off to join his teammates. The eight- and nine-year-olds are all dressed up in their Croton Kickers T’s. I think, what a gift this boy is. And his sister, Ellie, three years older.

Jean and I got married after college, where we dated for the last three years. I joined the Marines that fall. We got hitched after Parris Island and Camp Lejeune—right before I shipped out to Iraq! A hell of a move for two young people. She insisted. And she was right. Hey—she’s smart!—and wears the kind of beauty and presence that is ageless. One of those independent souls that doesn’t depend on others for her own internal happiness. If you didn’t know better you’d think we lived an idyllic life. If you didn’t know better.

But I do.

“Hey, Tim!” It’s Charlie Raffin, a neighbor. We’ve shared many a dinner with Charlie and his wife, Jennifer. Their son, Andy, is on Brady’s team.

“Wasn’t that murder yesterday at your agency? Saw it on the news last night. Jesus.”

“Awful. Just awful,” I say. “Lost a great guy. How the hell does a freakin’ murder take place in your office? It’s like something out of a movie.”

“Hope you’re managing okay.”

“I’m okay, actually…truth is, I’m waiting to hear about a possible new job. A job I really want—just between you and me.”

“Of course,” Charlie assures me. “Mum’s the word. Good luck on the job!”

A cheer erupts from the crowd of parents across the field. Brady’s team’s just scored a goal, and the boys are yelling and hopping all over the place. Coach blows his whistle and lines them back up for the kick-off.