I dont know that hes done anything, Mr. Hawes. Id just like to speak to him. Danielle glanced sideways at Morgan as if to warn him to keep his mouth shut. Morgan got the hint and stayed silent.

Hawes regarded them for a moment and then nodded. He stood and grabbed two hardhats and two orange safety vests from the shelves behind him and shoved them across the desk at Danielle and Morgan. Youll have to wear these.

Happy to, Danielle said, jamming the bright yellow hardhat onto her head. Morgan followed suit, feeling a little as if he was playing dress up, first as an FBI consultant and now as a construction worker.

Hawes led them out of the trailer and down into the construction site. Danielle kept pace with him while Morgan trailed a step or two behind, taking in all the commotion. The noise was constant. Machinery and the banging of hammers. Everything smelled like diesel fuel and dust. To Morgans eyes, the place looked like a jumble of people and machinery and supplies, but Hawes led them through the site, striding confidently and waving occasionally at different people. He stopped about 15 yards from where two men, both wearing hardhats leaned over a trestle table. Dons the one on the right.

Morgan might have recognized him, but was happy he didnt have to pick him out of the crowd. A forklift drove between them and the man they were looking for. He glanced their way, but quickly looked back at the plans on the table.

Danielle waited until the forklift was past and then strode up and tapped the man on the shoulder while Morgan hung back, not wanting Fugate to see him and recognize him yet. Fugate turned, a confused look on his face. Confusion turned to fear the second Danielle held up her badge. Fugate shoved the other man aside and ran.

Damn it. Danielle took off after Fugate, yelling Stay here, Morgan! as she went, her ponytail streaming out behind her.

Morgan rushed over to the table, helping the other man to right himself. How the hell was he supposed to just stand here while Danielle ran through a construction site on the trail of a murderer? In front of Morgan on the table was a blueprint of the building site. Morgan looked down at it. Years of looking at X-rays and scans had trained his mind to look at a two-dimensional image and extrapolate to the three-dimensional reality. He might not be an architect or a construction manager, but the schematic before him was, in many ways, no different than looking at an MRI.

Ahead, he saw Fugate running into the half-finished building with Danielle right behind him.

In Morgans head, the whole building rose before him almost as if it was a movie.