“A first-degree felony,” Hendricks chimed in.

“So should have been twenty years.”

“But local PD got overzealous during the arrest and beat the guy while he was cuffed,” Hendricks said.

“Broke his arm and dislocated his shoulder. His lawyer cut a deal and got it knocked down to false imprisonment.”

“A second-degree felony,” Hendricks said.

“Which got him out of prison in time to take Suzanne,” Gibson said, seeing the tragic way it all fit together.

“We got him,” said Jenn.

Saturday night, while Hendricks sat on Tate’s home, Jenn and Gibson walked over to the Summit Diner. A couple of conquering heroes. Jenn had unbuttoned the top button on her personality, and they’d laughed together like old friends and told stories about the last week like it had happened half a lifetime ago. He felt like part of the team for the first time, and they toasted over milkshakes. Jenn was warm and appreciative, and said they couldn’t have done it without him. George Abe even called to thank him personally. It had felt good, really good to be part of something that mattered.

After she’d paid the check, Jenn had dropped the boom on Gibson: Abe wanted him back in Washington.

“You need to understand that your presence will jeopardize our credibility. The FBI is already going to be irritated that we didn’t turn this over to them straightaway. We need to be airtight with them, and having someone like you here is only going to muddy the waters that much more.”

“Someone like me.”

“Someone with your history. The FBI won’t understand how important Suzanne is to you. All they’ll see is your history with Lombard.”

Gibson wasn’t buying it. He promised to stay out of the way. He would have promised anything. They were so close; he couldn’t go home now.

“You hit a home run here,” said Jenn. “We’re in your debt, but you need to let us handle it from here. You want us to catch this guy, right?”

They’d stood in the parking lot of the diner and argued it around and around, voices and tempers rising until the manager came out and told them to knock it off. They picked up again back in Jenn’s room, iterations of the same stale arguments flying back and forth. Eventually, they lapsed into an exhausted silence.

“For God’s sake, let this go,” Jenn told him at last. “You did good. For once in your life, recognize when you’re ahead and keep it that way.”

It was good advice even if it stung. Even if he had no intention of following it. Not where Bear was concerned. He would see this through to the end even if he had to do it alone. They could have their money back.