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semester a year. Murphy never understood why it mattered so much to one of his top investigators to teach at some dinky city school.
    “Wilson is missing,” Sterling said.
    Murphy's voice tightened. “How long?”
    “About ten hours, from what I can gather. But who knows with the locals.”
    “Sorry to hear that, Sterling.” He knew as well as Sterling that finding a missing person alive was always a race against the clock. The first twenty-four hours were critical. After that, the chance of a happy reunion dropped drastically with every passing minute. “Was he up at Dartmouth?”
    “Yup. That's where I'm heading right now.”
    “Have they called us in yet?”
    “No, but I'm sure they will soon.”
    “Anything suspicious?”
    “A $2 million science award just hit the bottom of his bank account.”
    “Holy shit. You think it's a kidnapping?”
    “I doubt it, which makes me feel even worse. Kidnappers would want him alive. Whatever the hell it is, I don't feel good about it. I need a favor, Murph.”
    “Shoot.”
    “If we get the call, I want to lead the case.”
    Murphy let out a sigh. “Sterling, you know I can't do that. Against policy.”
    “Fuck policy, Murph. This is my brother we're talking about. I want the case.”
    “Goddammit, Sterling,” Murphy groaned. “You're putting me in a tough position. Sixteen Hundred will be down my throat if you fuck this up.” Sixteen Hundred was their internal code name for the White House.
    “So I'm in?”
    “Every bone in my body tells me to keep you out.”
    “Murph, you know me. I can do it by the book with your blessing or I can do it on my own. It's your call.”
    “Doesn't sound like I have much of a goddamn choice.”
    “Thanks, Murph. I owe you.”
    “Be careful, Sterling. And for Chrissake keep a level head.”
    “Don't I always?” Sterling said before hanging up. He really didn't want to hear the director's answer.
     
    S terling loaded his shield, his Beretta Tomcat because it was easiest to conceal, and several bullet magazines into his travel bag. Though most of his work centered on evidence collection and analysis, he always left home prepared. He returned to his bedroom to finish packing.
    There were several things already bothering him about the call from Hanover. He didn't like it that Kay, who was always under control, was too distraught to speak. Then there was Hanlon, the local tight-ass, practically reading his answers from a police academy training manual. He had good reason to doubt the locals' ability to handle a case like this, especially if it really turned into something. Hanover was a quiet town centered on the college. Crime wasn't a part of their everyday lives; they weren't likely to have the kind of experience needed to crack a case like this.
    Just as troubling to Sterling was his relationship with his only brother. Sterling didn't know Wilson—not like brothers should. In fact, he had spent most of his life hating Wilson, the chosen one in the Bledsoe household. Pops was constantly rambling about Wilson's success, and his mother openly worshipped him. Sterling's whole childhood was spent trying to figure out ways to escape his brother's shadow, but the comparisons were always there.
    The fifteen years that separated the two brothers had something to do with their emotional distance, but Sterling's deep sense of inferiority played a much larger role. Nothing he did was ever good enough. If he proudly brought home a report card with all A's and one B+, his father glanced at it and reminded him that Wilson had had a
perfect
card all the way through high school. And when Sterling made the basketball team, his mother murmured that Wilson had been the champion of the chess team and won the state tournament two years in a row.
    Sterling had acquired his love for science only through a desire to surpass Wilson. He decided, however, to distinguish himself in a different field. Sterling's choice was anatomy. In childhood, he had