“No, I guess you don’t,” Dan agreed. “And you’re right about this place. It could become one of my new favorites. Food is great.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Katie said.

Adam rose and was pleasant to the waitress as he asked for the check and paid at the counter.

He returned to the table and looked at Katie. “Ready?” he asked.

“Yes, but—”

“Barry Gleason is meeting us there. He’s one of the finest sketch artists I’ve ever met. He’s not just a fine artist, he also knows how to listen and adjust details of a person’s features.”

“It’s so late,” Katie said.

“Ah, well, there’s the thing. Criminals don’t keep office hours. Therefore, law enforcement can’t do that, either. He’s waiting for us.”

Axel drove. Katie found herself in the back seat with Dan Oliver.

She sat politely silent and to her own side.

They headed out to the city’s offices. Adam was apparently well-known; he was greeted by the security guards and then a woman who seemed to be guarding the inner sanctum.

Katie quickly found herself in a room with a desk and the artist, Barry Gleason. He was a tall, slender man with thinning white hair and a quick smile. He assured her he was happy to be working with her despite the hour.

“We’re happy for any help, Miss Delaney. If you can give us a good description, I can hopefully turn it into something valuable.”

She sat with the man, aware that Adam, Axel and Dan were silent against the wall as she spoke and Barry Gleason worked.

“The man I met as Dr. Neil Browne had dark hair, very dark. Almost black. He wore it short, but with a swirl over his forehead. His face... He had a young face. I thought he was young to be a doctor of anything...maybe early to midtwenties. He had very angular features, a long face. Thick brows, light eyes. His eyes were almost a powder blue. He was pleasant, smiled a lot, his lips were thin, and as I said, his face was long, not much in the way of cheekbones, but he was still a handsome man. Part of that might have been in his manner. He was polite, courteous, liked to tease.” She paused. “That doesn’t help in creating a sketch, does it?”

“Yes, it does,” Barry said.

He was working away as he spoke. “Computers can do these things right off the bat, but I like pencil drawings...at first, at least. So...” He added a shadowing to what he’d been doing and slid the paper in front of her for a look.

As Adam had said, Barry Gleason was good.

She nodded, feeling her throat constrict.

It was already a good likeness. Good enough to bring her back in time twelve years.