Beside Gibson, practically attached to his hip, was Bear. Wearing an ill-fitting, saggy-bottomed bathing suit, her hair a chaotic tumble of curls, she looked up at the frog as if he’d wrestled a lion into submission. He’d forgotten all about catching that damn frog. It had taken all afternoon. They’d finally cornered it by the old well on the back of the property, where he’d chased it back and forth while Bear pointed unhelpfully from a safe distance.

Once they’d had it, they both realized chasing it was a lot more fun than actually catching it. The bullfrog agreed and peed on him to drive home the point. But the Lombards’ photographer had spotted them and insisted that they take a photograph with their trophy. They’d kept the frog just long enough to take the photograph by the fountain and then released the savage beast back into the wild. Bear had stood on the edge of the well and waved until the frog disappeared into the brush.

The memory made him smile. It was one of the few times Bear left the safety of her books to go on an actual adventure. What a distance that image was from a teenager with a mystery boyfriend. From the tired girl in the Phillies cap so far from home. Hell, she wasn’t even a baseball fan . . .

Gibson froze. That hat . . . Something about the Phillies cap bothered him, now that he thought about it, but he couldn’t put his finger on the reason.

He made a copy of the frog photo before he ejected the disk. God how he missed that little girl. His ferocious Bear. She was all that was left of his childhood that he loved unreservedly—everything else in his memory was tainted. And someone had stolen her.

Gibson found George in his office. Gibson knocked on the open office door. George looked up and beckoned for him to enter.

“Gibson, what brings you by?”

“Are you going after him?”

“After who?”

“After WR8TH. If he uploads my virus. You’re not going straight to the FBI. You’re going after him yourself.”

Abe’s eyes went to his still-open office door. Gibson took that as a yes.

“I want in.”

“Gibson . . .”

“I need to go.”

“Would you shut the door,” George said and waited until they had privacy. “Please believe me: I have great respect for the work you’ve done, and I will never question your loyalty to Suzanne. But I hired you to help us locate WR8TH. That’s all. In the field, you would be a liability.”

“A liability?”

“Jenn and Dan have thirty-plus years’ experience between them.”

“I was in the Marines. I’m not a goddamn liability.”

“I’m well aware of your military record. But if we do get that far, Jenn and Dan will handle it.”

“No.”

“No?” George looked genuinely taken aback.

“You need me.”

“I need you?”

“Yeah, you do.”