Birds chirped and squirrels ran across the dry leaves that littered the ground beneath the trees. Marisa turned and took a few steps between the cabins to look at the lake. Her fingers itched to sketch it. To paint it, even. Painting, drawing, sketching. Those had been her escape for years. Others turned to alcohol or drugs or food, but not Marisa. Those things held no pull for her. But to paint, to recreate something beautiful on a stretched canvas or a crisp white drawing pad.

She hadn't had a good set of paints in years. Hadn't wanted to spend the money, when she needed all her savings and more to pay for the adoption.

Ana.

Tears filled her eyes. They were wasting time. If Kopp wasn't willing to help her, what would she do?

She just wanted her daughter back.

He stepped beside her. "Sure is pretty here."

As if that mattered. As if anything mattered, without Ana.

"Are you going to arrest me?"

* * *

MARISA STEPPED INSIDE and found Sam and Nate standing in roughly the same spot as they'd stood when she'd stepped out.

Rae came from Nate's bedroom. "Johnny was late for his nap," she said. "I just laid him down. What happened?"

Marisa wiped the tears still flowing. "He's going to help us. He just had to get something out of his car."

"Thank God," Sam said.

Nate swallowed hard. "Let's sit."

A minute later, Kopp joined them at the table carrying a thick manila envelope. Brady was right behind him. Apparently they'd made introductions outside.

Kopp stopped behind the chair next to Sam and reached across to Rae. "Garrison Kopp."

She shook his hand. "Nice to meet you, Agent Kopp. Reagan Thomas."

Kopp pulled out the chair and sat. "I'm not an agent anymore. Call me Garrison."

"Okay," Rae said.

Garrison looked around the table. "That goes for the rest of you, okay?"

They all nodded, and Brady sat beside his wife.

"What you got there, Garrison?" Nate asked.

"Information." He reached in his front pocket and pulled out a cell phone. He held it out to Nate. "You can have this back."

Nate took it. "Thanks." He nodded to the fat envelope. "Thought you didn't bring anything."

"I had to be sure Marisa was okay." He unclasped the folder and slid out a half-inch stack of papers. "These aren't official FBI files. Not allowed to take those. But I had a few unresolved cases when I retired. I typed up my own notes to help me remember, in case anything ever happened on them."

"Lucky for us," Marisa said.

"That's a lot of papers," Rae said. "You must have remembered a lot."

"This is also stuff I've collected in my spare time."

"Like?" Nate prompted.