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days ago when I finally forced myself to go through the file cabinet where my husband kept all our important papers.”
    The file was labeled Reggio Sanchez.
    Remy opened it and examined the contents. There were scribbled notes, police reports and copies of pictures taken at a crime scene. He glanced at the pictures of an elderly woman in a baggy black coat who’d beenshot in the head. From the damage, he’d guess she’d been shot several times at close range.
    He removed a copy of an official police report signed by Doyle. The document stated that film taken from the hidden camera outside Klein’s Café had shown Reggie Sanchez follow Jessie Klein through the back door of her restaurant when she showed up for work at 5:40 a.m. on the day of her murder.
    Reggie Sanchez had left the restaurant alone ten minutes later. There was a stain that looked to be blood on the front of his shirt. The first employee on duty that morning had discovered Jessie Klein’s body.
    “Jessie Klein was the only eyewitness to the murder of her grandson,” Syl explained. “Reggie Sanchez had pulled the trigger and killed him in front of his house in cold blood. Supposedlyit involved a drug-deal double cross of some kind.”
    “If they had the film, why isn’t Sanchez in jail for Jessie’s murder?”
    “The film came up missing from the evidence file just before the case was to go to a grand jury,” Syl said. “And Sanchez came up with some kind of supposedly airtight alibi that Doyle was sure was fake. When Sanchez was released, Doyle was furious.”
    Syl lookeddown at the table of scattered snapshots and grew silent.
    “I’m sure he was,” Remy said, encouraging her to keep talking. “Did he have a theory on what happened to the film?”
    “Not that he shared with me. But he was more upset than I’d ever seen him. He said he wouldn’t stop until he found out who was responsible.”
    Her eyes filled with tears and her voice began to tremble. “I knowfinding the man responsible for his death won’t bring Doyle back, but he deserves at least that much.”
    “I agree,” Remy said.
    “Does that mean you’ll take the case?”
    “No, at least not for money. But I’ll look into it. Let’s just consider this a favor from one ex-member of the NOPD to another.”
    “I appreciate that. I mean, I don’t how I’m going to make ends meet as it is. But pleasedon’t tell Charlie that I’ve talked to you. I don’t think Doyle fully trusted him in the end. So I don’t trust him, either.”
    “You got it. I’ll get back to you when I have something to report. In the meantime, you just take care of yourself and the boys. That’s what your husband would want above all.”
    And if Lee had actually killed Doyle or ordered his assassination, there was no tellingwhat extremes he’d go to to hide his guilt or who might be in danger.
    An image of Lee with his arm around Nicole sprang to Remy’s mind. Agitation steeled his nerves and ground in his gut. He couldn’t bear the thought of her with him.
    But even if he went to her and told her what he knew about Lee, there wasn’t a reason on earth why she’d believe him. He’d even lied to her about his name.
    * * *
    R EMY SPENT THE REST of the day trying to track down Reggio Sanchez. His search sent him to seedy areas of the city dominated by crack houses and half-deserted neighborhoods. It was easy to spot drug deals being carried out on street corners, frequently in the presence of kids riding by on their bikes or young mothers out walking with their children.
    Much of the city had beenrebuilt since the hurricane by citizens with determination and the help of warmhearted people from all across the country. But there were still pockets of destruction where abandoned schools, businesses and homes with broken windows and rotting structures served as havens for crime and criminals.
    Remy had worked as a narcotics detective long enough that he knew the routine, but he’d alsobeen away