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adrenaline began to flow, and Annie’s garden was, once again, forgotten.

4
    It was four in the morning before Evan had a chance to check his messages. His message to Annie had been received—apparently well received, since she’d asked him to return the call, regardless of the time.
    “Hi.” She answered the phone on the third ring, her voice heavy with sleep.
    “Hi.”
    “You still on the job?”
    “Yeah.” He glanced around at the crowd of law enforcement personnel that seemed to grow by the minute.
    “Like the others?”
    “Like the others, but different. Same difference as the last one.”
    “She’s Hispanic. No ID. And no one reported her missing.”
    “Right. ’Course, maybe by morning, we’ll have gotten a call. Someone might be looking for her by now, or maybe someone thinks she’s at a friend’s house . . . there could be a hundred maybes when you’re dealing with a kid, you know?”
    “I know. I saw your chief on TV yesterday.”
    “The press has been all over this. It’s national news. The grandfather of one of the victims is an ambassador.”
    “I saw him on CNN.”
    “So did I. He had some harsh words for the D.A.”
    “Yeah.”
    The awkward pause he’d been avoiding settled in. It was now or never.
    “Look, Annie, I . . . I had this idea. I’m thinking that, well, I’m thinking maybe we should take one more look at Dylan’s death. I’m thinking you’re right, to want to clear this thing for him. And I have to be honest with you, looking at this from a strictly selfish point of view, I’m thinking it’s going to be that much harder for you and me to move forward with our own relationship while there’s still this long, dangling thread in your life.”
    He hesitated, expecting her to break in, but she remained silent, so he went on.
    “So, maybe just one look, to see if, I don’t know, maybe something will jump out at us. Then, maybe, you and I . . . well, then maybe we can see where we are . . . where we both want this thing to go . . .”
    Evan was pacing along a berm at the edge of the clearing where the latest body had been found. “I know the Bureau’s best has been on this, so I guess it sounds presumptuous for me to even suggest it—”
    “I don’t think it’s presumptuous at all,” Annie said softly.
    “You don’t?”
    “No. You’re a great investigator. And there’s always the chance that a fresh eye might see something everyone else has missed. But are you sure you want to spend your time on this?”
    “I’m sure that I want this to work between us. I’m sure that the only way that’s going to happen is for you to feel that you’ve done everything you can to do right by Dylan’s memory. The way I see it, as long as Dylan’s murderer is out there, you’re always going to be looking for him. Not that I blame you. I understand why it’s important. But it just seems to me that in order for you to move on with your life, you need to know that everything that could be done has been done.”
    “That’s very insightful.”
    “And you thought you were the only one in this relationship with a little psychology know-how,” he joked, knowing there was a vast difference between his three undergrad psych courses and her doctorate. “There’s no guarantee that this case will ever be solved. But I think it’s worth one more look.”
    “Thank you.” Her voice caught. “Dylan deserves to have his killer brought to justice. I know Aidan and Connor and a bunch of his cousins have looked at the case, but not one of them was able to uncover anything new. So chances are, nothing will change. But one more look—sure, it’s worth the time. I’ll be in the office tomorrow. I’ll see what I can get my hands on.”
    “Can you send me a copy of whatever you find?”
    “I’d rather bring it up this weekend.”
    “Even better.”
    “But you’re swamped with your case. I’d better send copies of the reports overnight. That way, when we finally do get