“That’s what I’m trying to find out. I’d like to talk to your uncle. He might remember something about that time that could help.”

“But Mr. Marston had nothing to do with the accident. I really don’t understand.”

“I can’t go into the details, but I’d like to know more about your lawsuit and whether your uncle knew anyone else who was suing the hospital at the same time.”

“We didn’t win or even settle. It was dismissed and I was relieved. I didn’t want to relive it anymore.”

“How are you doing now?” Matt asked. “You like Boston?”

“I love it. I work in the city but live in the suburbs. It’s nearly a two-hour train ride, but I only have to come into the office twice a week. I do most of my work at home.”

“You’re married, with kids, right?”

“Yeah.” He smiled, a genuine smile. “Boy and girl, a year apart, couldn’t have planned it better. They just turned four and five. Best day of my life was when I met Megan, my wife. Next-best days were the births of my kids.”

Matt sent two FBI agents from Seattle—Diana and Carl—to Liberty Lake to assist Andy with following up on all the police reports they’d gone through the night before. Verifying information, dismissing complaints, following up on tips generated by all the press the Triple Killer had garnered—some of which Matt himself had asked for after the press conference. And Matt needed Michael with him. While Matt didn’t believe that the killer would target any of the federal agents, Catherine’s comment the other day about what would happen if they messed with the killer’s pattern stuck with him.

Matt had been the face of the investigation—something he didn’t aspire to but couldn’t avoid. Michael was well trained and former military. Matt trusted him to have his back more than two agents he’d never met.

Early on in his career, Matt recognized that while all FBI agents had the same training and had to meet the same minimum level of qualifications in every area, some agents were head and shoulders above the others. Better at the gun range, better physically, smarter, sharper, shrewder. One of the reasons he had such a difficult time filling the slots on the MRT unit was because he wanted the best of the best—he had one of the top forensics people in the country with Jim Esteban. He had the top profiler at BAU if Catherine agreed to work with him. Ryder was one of the smartest, most organized analysts Matt had ever worked with, even though he was still a rookie. And Michael Harris was former Navy SEAL, SWAT trained, and a methodical cop. He wanted more like them on his team.

“Michael, with me,” Matt said, then turned to Ryder. “Be alert, Ryder. We don’t know who this guy is yet. Stay here in the hotel. If there are any issues call the cavalry.”

“Yes, sir.”

Matt turned to Michael and rolled his eyes. The “sir” crap was getting under his skin, but he didn’t know how to fix Ryder. Maybe he should just let it go.