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  “All right,” he told Tomblin. “I’m expecting an update from Sandman within the hour. Let’s review then.”

  “OK.” Tomblin paused, then said, “Reilly has several pressure points we can use, Gordo. And we know how much he treasures them. Especially the woman and the boy.”

  Roos smiled inwardly. “That’s exactly what I was thinking.”

  18

  Mamaroneck, New York

  Maxed out on caffeine in a vain attempt to counteract a night of maximum stress and zero sleep, Aparo arrived on the tree-lined street on which Reilly and Tess’s house stood and parked his Ford Taurus in front of the three Evidence Response Team vehicles.

  He climbed out and went to talk to Max Goodman, the Special Agent in charge of the ERT, who was emerging from a GMC Yukon parked a little farther down the street.

  Aparo waved as he approached. “Just give me half an hour, OK?”

  He’d called Goodman and asked him to wait till he arrived at the house, making it clear that the inhabitants were a Bureau family and that, right now, his partner wasn’t guilty of anything except fleeing a crime scene.

  Goodman shook his head. “You said wait till you arrive, and you’re here now. We need to go in.”

  Aparo lowered his voice, trying the conciliatory approach first. “Look, Max, the lady only stepped off the red-eye an hour ago. Let me go in first and talk her through it before your guys go storming in.”

  Goodman wasn’t impressed. “You shouldn’t be anywhere near this case. You’re his partner for Christ’s sake! Now get out of my way so I can do my job.”

  Aparo put a hand on Goodman’s arm. “Come on, Max. She’s got her mom and two kids in there. A teenage girl and a five-year-old boy. Isn’t that the same age as your kid? How’d you feel if you were in their place? You wouldn’t want your kid going through something like that, would you?”

  Goodman didn’t reply.

  “They’ll be heading off to school in a few minutes,” Aparo added. “That’s all I’m asking.”

  Aparo knew this was the moment it went one of two ways. Either Goodman felt a sizeable stab of sympathy when he imagined his boy looking on as armed storm troopers went through his family home from top to bottom, or the mere mention of the guy’s son in this context risked further harsh words at best, or a fist swung at his face.

  Goodman went quiet for a moment then said, “OK. Go. I’ll wait till the kids are gone.”

  Aparo hid his smile with an earnest expression of sincere gratitude. “Done. I owe you. And do me a favor, keep the guys out of sight until the kids are gone.”

  Tess had arrived home about half an hour earlier, her stress levels off the chart. The Evidence Response Team vehicles were already parked out on the street, though Aparo had texted her to say that no one would try to enter the house before he got there himself.

  Her mom was already well into the school routine, with both Kim and Alex finishing their breakfast while Eileen made their lunches. Right now, the kids were oblivious to the events of the past twelve hours. Although Tess knew this couldn’t last, she wanted to see Reilly face to face before she decided what to tell them. Her mom, on the other hand, knew something was wrong the second Tess had called her from La Guardia to say she’d landed—way earlier than expected. Eileen had lived through enough of Reilly and Tess’s misadventures to know when to ask and when to stay quiet. So far, she hadn’t asked, but Tess could read the worry simmering behind her stoic expression.

  As Tess tried to help with the lunches—despite her mom trying to brush her away—the doorbell chimed.

  She froze, then forced herself to snap out of it. She gave her mom a knowing look. “I’ll get it.”

  She glanced at the kids as she headed out of the kitchen. Alex was oblivious, his concentration locked on the box of cereal. Kim, on the other hand, seemed fully aware that something was very wrong. Her questioning eyes followed Tess out of the room, but much to Tess’s relief, Kim seemed to grasp her mother’s unspoken desire to not discuss it just yet.

  Feeling sick to her stomach, Tess went to the door and looked through the spy hole.

  Aparo. Alone.

  She opened the door and let out a breath of relief. “Nick.”

  He stepped inside.

  She spotted the ERT guys outside as she shut the door behind him. The sight rattled her and her voice went shaky. “What’s going on, Nick? What the hell is this?”

  He stepped closer and took her in his arms for a big hug, patting her across the shoulder. “We’ll get through this. It’s going to be fine.”

  She pulled back and nodded, wiped her face, then motioned for Aparo to follow her into the study, where she closed the door after them.

  Aparo remained standing. “I need Sean’s laptop.”

  “Why?”

  “He wants it out of here so no one messes with it. I can’t do it, though. I didn’t walk in with anything. Can you carry it out? The ERT guys will be watching us leave, so it needs to look casual.”

  Tess looked at her MacBook Air, open on the aluminum desk.

  “We’ve got identical machines. Different specs, but same on the outside. I’ll just say it’s mine if anyone asks.”

  She went over to a large set of drawers and pulled out another MacBook Air, which she slid into a pink slip case. Then she closed the open laptop and put it in the drawer.

  As she stuffed the pink slipcase into her leather shoulder bag, she heard her mother say, “We’re off.”

  “Hang on.”

  She stepped out of the study, found Eileen, Kim and Alex in the kitchen. Avoiding her daughter’s scrutinizing gaze, Tess put on her best carefree smile.

  “See you later, guys. Soak up that knowledge.”

  “Mom—” Kim said, but Tess cut her off.

  “I’ll see you later, baby,” she said as she leaned in and kissed her on the temple.

  “Where’s daddy?” Alex asked.

  Tess glanced down at him. Curiously, he seemed worried as well. It was almost like he could also sense the tension, which, given his age, surprised Tess.

  She bent down to his level and straightened the collar of his coat. “He went straight to his office, but he said to tell you he misses you a lot. Both of you. Now go on, or you’ll be late.”

  She gave Alex a kiss and watched them all head out into the garage, then she hurried back to the study.

  “OK,” she told Nick, “talk to me. What the hell is going on?”

  “The guy Sean’s been after all this time? The guy that had Alex brainwashed?”

  “Reed Corrigan.”

  “Yeah. Sean won’t accept that Corrigan is a ghost. He’s still trying to find the bastard. That’s why he went to see that guy in Arlington—the guy who got shot. His name was Stan Kirby. He worked for the CIA.”

  Tess’s eyes went wide. “Sean’s accused of killing a CIA agent?”

  “As things stand, yes. Well, not exactly—Kirby wasn’t a field agent. He was an analyst.”

  “But he didn’t do it, right?”

  “Of course he didn’t. And we’re going to help him prove that. We’re going to do everything we can to find Kirby’s real killer. And I’m going to do everything I can to find Corrigan, because finding him may be the only way to prove Sean’s innocence. Everything else is on hold as of last night.”

  A sense of utter dread chilled her to the core. “Sean couldn’t find him, Nick. What makes you think you can?”

  “Sean was doing this alone, on the side. I’m going to use something Sean didn’t—the entire resource of the Bureau. I’ll even go see the president if I have to.”

  That last sentence leapt from Sandman’s earpiece and anchored itself firmly inside Sandman’s mind.

  Aparo could turn into another problem, he thought.

  He was parked around a corner a hundred yards down from Reilly and Tess’s place. As he listened to the conversation taking place in the house, Sandman could just picture Tess Chaykin’s mind racing. He didn’t h
ave video—cameras, even the tiniest pinhole ones being used for covert surveillance nowadays, had been deemed too much of a risk, in terms of detection. Someone with a keen eye like Reilly might spot them. Audio, on the other hand, was much easier to conceal and yielded the same results.

  “So Sean’s been digging into this the whole time?” she said. “Since he brought Alex to live with us?”

  “Yep,” he heard Aparo reply.

  “And he didn’t tell you?”

  “No. And believe me, I asked. I asked a lot.”

  “Why wouldn’t he tell you?”

  “To help me keep my job. And maybe out of prison. Same goes for you, I guess.”

  “Why?”

  “He was leaning on Kirby. The guy was sleeping with his wife’s sister.”

  “Charming.”

  A sentiment with which Sandman concurred.

  Aparo didn’t comment. Instead, he added, “He’s had someone helping him out, but he won’t say who. Any ideas?”

  Sandman listened as Tess thought about it, his senses alert to a key piece of the puzzle possibly dropping into his lap—then Tess said, “No.”

  Sandman frowned. Still, a couple of major gaps in Reilly’s backstory with Kirby had been filled. And he thought he knew where he might find the rest of the answers he was looking for.

  Tess let out a tired breath. “I knew something was eating him. All these months . . . I thought it was this stuff about his dad.”

  “That’s part of it too. Or at least Sean believes it is. He’s got it into his head that there’s a connection between Corrigan and his dad. He thinks maybe Corrigan had something to do with his dad’s suicide.”

  Tess couldn’t process what she was hearing. It was all so far-fetched. As a plot for one of her novels, she would have dismissed it out of hand. But she also knew that reality often trumped fiction—that there are things that happen in real life that are so bizarre and unexpected they’d never allow for the suspension of disbelief necessary to retell them as a story.

  “I need to hear it from him.”

  “Of course. That’s where we’re going.”

  “OK. Let me grab my things.”

  She retrieved her iPad from the kitchen and picked up a more formal jacket from the closet in the front hall. And as she headed for the front door, Tess felt a combination of dull fury and desperate sadness. Anger that the man she loved had needed to conceal all this from her—even if it was to protect her—and sorrow that she hadn’t been able to help him deal with his frustration and uncertainty.

  She would do all she could to help now.

  They left the house together, Aparo waving his thanks to a tall guy in shades and an FBI windcheater.

  She climbed into Aparo’s car and left her house to the mercy of the Evidence Response Team.

  Sandman heard his encrypted phone ring as he watched Aparo’s unmarked drive past him.

  “Are you still at the target’s house?” the voice asked.

  “Yes. His woman and his partner just drove off.”

  “There’s another player. We need to find him.”

  “I’m on it.”

  “We need that laptop.”

  “I figured as much. Engagement protocol?” Sandman asked.

  “The partner is expendable,” the voice informed him in an even tone.

  “The woman?”

  “Optional.”

  “Copy that.”

  Sandman cut the call, fired up the engine, and pulled away from the curb.

  19

  The pit of Aparo’s stomach was yelling at him.

  He hadn’t eaten since he’d shared a Chinese take-out delivery with his latest playmate, food they had burned off shortly afterwards by a couple of hours of mutual cardio workout. And much as he’d enjoyed that, much as he was looking forward to seeing her again, he was glad he’d turned down her offer to spend the night, as it meant he’d been there in his partner’s hour of need.

  He turned to Tess. “I haven’t eaten since yesterday. Anywhere we can stop for me to grab a bite?”

  “There’s a nice café just after the CVS up ahead. They do decent take-out sandwiches.”

  A quarter of a mile later, Aparo pulled into a parking space.

  “Can I get you anything?”

  “I’m good,” Tess replied.

  “Did you eat this morning? It’s probably going to be a long day.”

  Tess shook her head. “I’m OK, thanks.”

  “A coffee at least?”

  She smiled. “No, mom.”

  “O-kay.”

  Aparo climbed out and walked toward the café.

  He reached the door just ahead of a guy in a fedora and a heavy winter coat who was heading in too. Aparo nudged the door open behind him so it didn’t swing back into the man’s path.

  The place was clearly popular. Many of the small tables were taken by singles or duos, several of them working at their laptops. Aparo went straight to the counter, where three people were ahead of him. He glanced at the list of offerings as he waited his turn, then ordered the special: sausage and tomato omelet in a baguette, with a large coffee, black.

  “Double quick, please,” he said as he handed a ten dollar bill to the ponytail/goatee in the black T-shirt behind the counter. “And keep the change.”

  He stepped aside to let the guy in the fedora order.

  As he waited, he scrolled through his messages and emails. His inbox was heaving, but there was nothing there that couldn’t wait till he was at the office.

  His attention was diverted by a waitress behind the counter who was holding out two brown-paper bags. “Bacon on rye . . . and an omelet baguette.”

  Aparo reached for his order, but as he took it, the guy in the fedora reached across him, knocking Aparo’s bag to the floor.

  “Oh Jeez, I’m sorry,” the man said, shaking his head with clear embarrassment. He stooped to pick it off the floor, fussing over it, muttering “I’m such a klutz sometimes,” as he brushed it down before turning to face Aparo and handing it back to him. “I’m really sorry. Let me buy you a replacement.”

  Aparo glanced at it. The sandwich was longer than the bag, it’s edge poking out of it. It might have touched the floor, but barely. Also, time was an issue. He was in a rush to get to Federal Plaza. “No, it’s fine.”

  “You sure?”

  “Sure.”

  The man relaxed a touch. “OK. Sorry, again.” He touched his hat in an old-school gesture of deference.

  Aparo waved him off with a “No problemo,” took his coffee from the outstretched hand of the waitress, then left the café, bag already open and baguette on its way to being chowed down.

  By the time he got back to the car, half the baguette was already in his belly.

  Tess couldn’t resist sending her mother a text to see how the kids’ school run had gone.

  The message was pointless and Tess knew it. She was just taking a momentary break from the bigger situation looming over her and finding a touch of solace in obsessing over the mundane. Her mom had, predictably, fired back one of her signature replies, informing Tess that everything was miraculously fine and that she was looking forward to a nice mug of coffee with her as soon as her circumstances allowed it. Her mom hadn’t used quote marks around circumstances. She hadn’t needed to. Tess saw them anyway.

  She watched as Aparo climbed back into the Taurus with a coffee in one hand and an open sandwich bag in the other. He was wolfing it down.

  “Hungry much?” she asked.

  “Just what the doctor ordered,” he just about managed in between mouthfuls as he put the vehicle into drive.

  They hopped onto I-95 and joined the stream of traffic heading south toward the city.

  Tess’s mind was all over the place, exploring all kinds of scenarios about what awaited her and Reilly. She didn’t say much, and Aparo was busy polishing off the baguette and the coffee.

  They’d been on the interstate for about ten minutes when Aparo winc
ed. She’d noticed it after she spotted him scrunch up the bag and throw it over his shoulder onto the back seat. It was a habit she imagined was common to all FBI agents due to long hours spent on stake out but one she’d managed to talk Reilly out of, at least when it came to the family car.

  Aparo grimaced with pain.

  “You OK?” she asked.

  “Heartburn.” He balled his fist and slammed it into his chest, moving his left shoulder up and down in an attempt to alleviate his discomfort. “I think I’ve got a bottle of water in the back somewhere, can you pass it over?”

  “Sure.” She bent around and rummaged through the clutter on the back seat and found an half-empty bottle. She handed it over just as Aparo clutched at his chest with his left hand and gasped.

  “Jesus! Are you all right?”

  His right hand was still firmly on the wheel.

  “Yeah. It’s nothing. Just zero sleep, an empty stomach, stuffing my face and—”

  He moaned as his head lolled back against the headrest and his right arm went slack, sending the car swerving into the passing lane.

  “Nick!”

  Tess grabbed the wheel, fighting to steer the car back into the center lane. An SUV blew past to their left, barely missing them.

  “Jesus! Nick! Wake up!”

  She yanked the wheel too fast, causing the Taurus to bounce off a semi speeding past on the inside lane and hurtle across back toward the median divider. A cacophony of squealing brakes and panicked horns filled her ears as the car cut across a flatbed truck, clipped a compact and bounced off it.

  Tess watched in horror as the compact careened back into the inside lane, slamming into a panel van that had swerved to avoid them.

  There was no way she was going to reach the brake pedal. She swung the wheel away from her and the car flew across the lanes again and into the divider. Sparks flew from the screeching interface of car and metal, but the vehicle was still traveling too fast.