I reached over and hit the passenger lock switch for my door. I pulled the door handle and the door swung open. I stepped out and looked at Wexler. Snow was starting to stick to his hair and shoulders.

"And the heater's off. It couldn't have fogged the windows. I think Sean had somebody in the car with him. They were talking. Then whoever the bastard was killed him." Wexler looked as if he had seen a ghost. It was all clicking in his mind. It was more than just a theory now and he knew it. It looked as though he might start to cry.

"Goddamnit," he said.

"Look, we all missed it."

"No, it's different. A cop never lets his partner down like that. What good are we if we can't watch out for our own?

A fucking reporter -. ."

He didn't finish but I think I knew what he was feeling.

He felt as though he had somehow betrayed Sean. I knew that was how he felt because it was the same for me.

"It's not done with ye" I said. "We can still make up for believing the wrong thing."

He still looked forlorn. I wasn't the one who could comfort him. That would have to come from within.

"All that's lost is a little time, Wex," I said anyway.

"Let's go back inside. It's getting cold out here."

My brother's house was dark when I went there to tell Riley. I paused before knocking, wondering at how absurd it was that I believed the-news I was bringing might in some way cheer her. Good news, Riley, Sean didn't kill himself like we all thought, he was murdered by some nut who has probably done it before and probably will again.

I knocked anyway. It wasn't late. I imagined that she was sitting in there in the dark, or maybe in one of the back bedrooms which emitted no light. The lantern light came on above me and she opened up before I had to knock a second time.

"Jack."

"Riley. I was wondering if I could come in and talk to you. I knew she didn't know yet. I had made a deal with Wexler. I would tell her in person. He didn't care. He was too busy reopening the investigation, drawing up lists of likely suspects, getting Sean's car inspected again for prints and other evidence. I hadn't told him anything about Chicago. I'd kept that to myself and I wasn't sure why.

Was it the story? Did I want the story just for myself? That was the easy answer and I used it to soothe my uneasiness at not telling him everything. But in the deeper folds of my mind I believed it was something else. Something maybe I didn't want to bring out into the light to view.

"Come in," Riley said. "Is something wrong?"

"Not really."

I walked in behind her and she led the way to the kitchen, where she turned on the light over the table. She was wearing blue jeans, heavy wool socks and a Colorado Buffaloes sweatshirt.