When the knock on the door finally came, it seemed to Elizabeth as though someone was firing off a cannon. Each rap boomed and echoed through the house.

Where she had not been worrying.

Satchmo was at the door, alert but not bristling. Someone the dog was familiar with?

She moved unsteadily toward the door.

Was this it? That moment when the anonymous man in the Brooks Brothers suit would give her the news that she'd dreaded for so many years, that this time it was worse than a bruised collar bone and a concussion…

She sucked in a deep breath, wrapped her hand firmly around the knob, and pulled the door open.

"Reese!"

"Hello, Elizabeth. May I come in?"

"Of course." She stepped back automatically – one should always be polite to visitors.

Hughes closed the door behind him, and paused briefly to scratch Satchmo behind the ears. Then he gestured to the couch. "Let's sit down."

Elizabeth found herself rooted in place. She opened her mouth to speak, but it took an extra moment before any sound came out. "Is Peter… is he…"

Hughes stepped around the coffee table, reaching for her hand. "Elizabeth, Peter is fine – physically." He tugged gently, leading her around the table. "Sit down."

She sat, breathing just a little easier. "Physically," she repeated. "But?"

"He's been arrested."

"What?"

"Senator Pratt was shot. Callaway arrested Peter for it."

She understood the individual words, but taken together they made no sense. "Peter shot Pratt?"

"According to Peter, James Bennett shot Pratt."

"But they arrested Peter?"

"Bennett ran, leaving Peter with the gun, and the body."

"The body…" Elizabeth let that sink in. "So it was murder?"

"According to Peter, it was self-defense."

"Then why is he under arrest?"

"When Bennett ran, he took Pratt's gun with him."

Elizabeth sank back against the cushions. "There were no witnesses?"

Hughes shook his head. "Apparently not."

"What about Neal? Was he involved?"

Hughes hesitated a bit before answering. "I don't have a lot of detail," he started. "There were too many other people around to get into any specifics. But from what I can gather, Neal had his own role to play elsewhere in the building. He was on his way out when the shooting happened, and had no idea anything had gone wrong."

"But it's that damn evidence box! If he hadn't gotten Peter involved…"

Hughes' hand on her arm stopped her. "It's true that the existence of that box only came to light because of Caffrey," he said. "But Elizabeth, you've known Peter almost as long as I have. Once he knew there was evidence of potential corruption out there, do you think anything would have stopped him from going after it?"

He had a point. "No," she admitted. "Did they get the evidence out?"

"I think so. At least, it doesn't appear that Callaway has it. I'm meeting with Diana Berrigan after this, and she might have more information."

"Neal wouldn't tell you?"

"Elizabeth, he's been arrested too. Between OPR and Secret Service, there were way too many people around to ask."

"But if Neal wasn't involved in the shooting…"

"Pratt had accused Caffrey and his father of assault earlier in the day. Plus, Peter had taken him off anklet, which raises questions with a lot of people who are trying very hard to look important right now."

"Does he know where his father is?"

Hughes shook his head. "I don't think so. He turned himself in voluntarily, though it wouldn't surprise me if he set a few things in motion beforehand."

Elizabeth made a mental note to call Mozzie as soon as Hughes left…

Almost as though he was reading her mind, Hughes reached into his pocket and pulled out a cell phone. "I have no concrete knowledge of any wiretapping authorized on your home phone, or any intercept on your cell phone," he said. "But, just in case, use this for any calls you might not want to have on the record. And you might want to consider not making those calls inside the house."

She let the impact of those words sink in for a moment – they might be tapping her phone, bugging her house… "I understand."

"Do you and Peter have a criminal attorney?"

"We've never needed one," she replied, not even trying to keep the bitterness out of her voice. Then, a bit more calmly. "We have an attorney who's done civil law work for us. He's with a large firm, I can ask if he can recommend someone."

"That's a good idea."

"Does Peter need an attorney tonight?"

"He says no. But a dead Senator is going to make a lot of headlines. You should try to get someone as soon as you can. I wouldn't be a bit surprised if they show up here with a search warrant tomorrow morning, so it would be good to have someone here too."

That sounded familiar – she could still see the sneer on the face of Kyle Collins when he'd come armed with a warrant.

But this time she thought most of the planning had been done at Neal's…

"Does June Ellington know what's going on? If they're going to search here, her house is probably targeted too."

"I only had a few minutes to talk to Berrigan, but I got the impression Mrs. Ellington was forewarned. I'll confirm that when I meet with Diana."

Elizabeth nodded, already planning her own strategy. "I want to see Peter," she said, getting to her feet.

Hughes stood up as well, shaking his head. "That's not going to happen tonight."

"Reese…"

"Elizabeth, he's fine. But the Secret Service has clamped down on access."

"I need to see him." And damn, she hated how that sounded like begging…

"I understand. But I don't see it happening tonight. Unless Bennett is found, and convinced to confess, I imagine Peter will be spending the night at the Hawthorne federal holding facility. I'll do what I can to get you in to see him tomorrow."

"Please…"

"Tomorrow, Elizabeth. And believe me, we'll get this all sorted out."

"Of course."

"Now, is there anything I can do for you tonight? Do you need anything?"

"Will Peter be all right?"

"As an agent, he'll go to the special administrative segregation area at Hawthorne. That's separate from the general population, where anyone he's arrested might be."

That wasn't one hundred percent reassuring, but at least it was something to hold onto. "Then I'll be fine."

Hughes studied her for a moment, and then he nodded. "I'll call you in the morning," he promised as he turned toward the door.

Elizabeth saw him out, locking the door behind him. She calmly set the alarm – no need to leave it off, waiting for Peter to get home – and then she collapsed on the bottom stair, stifling a sob.

Peter, arrested…

But crying wasn't going to resolve anything, and maybe doing something was exactly what she needed. She paused just a moment to give Satchmo some attention; he must have sensed her worry, based on his body language. Then she got up and headed upstairs to get her laptop. Their lawyer's contact information was on a contact card in her e-mail.

She was not worried.

But she was mad.


Peter sighed and rested his head against his hands, rubbing his eyes. But only momentarily, because he was damned if he was going to show that kind of weakness.

He'd just gone toe to toe with the Secret Service, in what was undoubtedly just Round One. And he had taken a bit of a beating.

Almost made him want to step back in the ring with Neal – at least the rules there were easier to understand.

Plus, it was easier to dodge the blows when you could actually see them coming.

Even as a veteran of countless interrogations – on the other side, of course – he wasn't quite sure what their purpose was. The agents had alternately questioned every detail of his account of what had happened on the fiftieth floor of the Empire State Building, and then switched to wondering why Peter had such a vendetta against Senator Pratt.

He was pretty sure that they hadn't believed that his only interest was truth, justice, and the American way.

Maybe he needed a cape.

When the door opened to let the Secret Service out, he'd seen Neal being led down the hall toward the restrooms by other agents. They hadn't been allowed to speak, of course, but they had made brief eye contact, and in that moment, Peter got at least one answer.

Neal was playing with his interrogators.

In that split second as they locked eyes, Neal's sagging shoulders straightened, and he winked, a slight smile touching his lips. A brief, subtle nod between the two of them, and then Neal was gone.

It was reassuring anyway.

The door had closed again then, cutting him off from anything outside this room. And he was still here.

Oh, he was sure there were observers on the other side of the mirror, probably trying to decide how guilty his body language appeared.

And he'd like to tell them that it wasn't guilt, but exhaustion, driving him right now. Not that they were apt to listen…

For now, he'd just wait.

And when someone did come in again, maybe he'd demand his own restroom break.


"Elizabeth, I promise I'll call if I hear anything. Now are you sure you're all right… Yes, that was a good idea on the phone… Oh, don't worry, no one can track the call here… Right, call if you need anything. Good night."

Mozzie disconnected the call and then sat there, staring at the phone. Jones finally pulled him out of where he was, lost in thought.

"Is Elizabeth all right?"

"What? Oh, yes, she's fine. Hughes filled her in on the official version of events."

"Sounded like you left a few things out of the unofficial version."

Mozzie scoffed at that. "While I'm confident in the security of my phone, I can't say the same for her end. Though apparently Hughes did give her a burner to use, so that's something."

"Does she need anything else?"

"Answers." Mozzie turned to Sally. "Anything while I was on the phone?"

"I'm almost into the Secret Service database. We should know what they know soon."

"I shouldn't be hearing this," Jones muttered.

"You had the opportunity to leave," Mozzie shot back.

Sally cleared her throat and pointed to another set of monitors, bringing them back on task. "Some of the FBI reports are starting to show up in the system."

Jones leaned in to take a quick look. "What about the building security video?"

"Three shots so far of Bennett in the stairwell, but none below the fortieth floor yet. And none that clearly show a gun," Mozzie reported. "Traffic?"

Jones turned back to his work station, where he had been reviewing traffic tapes. "There was a car that looked like it could be June's that made an abrupt U-turn just shy of the Holland Tunnel. That was the first exit that NYPD was able to seal off."

"So he probably saw the flashing lights," Sally said.

"That's my guess," Jones agreed. "There was no video the way he turned, but since he was trying to get to Jersey, I checked the Lincoln and the GW Bridge next. There's a lot of traffic, but the search program only pinged on a handful of Jags, none of them the right one. I'm manually reviewing that first hour after he left Neal's, just in case the traffic was blocking the car." Jones sighed, tossing a pen on the desk in frustration. "Too bad there's no toll westbound, so everyone has to stop."

"If it was easy, the Feds could do this themselves," Mozzie remarked. He stretched his fingers, and leaned back in to the keyboard. "We'll find something."


Peter looked up as the door opened, almost relieved to see that it was the FBI coming back in. At least he more or less understood what they were trying to do.

He just wasn't sure that Callaway understood.

Unfortunately, she was leading the others in, her faithful lackeys Watson and Chambers at her heels.

And she looked pissed.

"I hope you understand that this is a very serious situation," she said. When he made no reply, she continued. "It's not some sort of game."

"I never thought it was."

"Your CI apparently thinks it is."

Ah, that explained it – she'd tried to question Neal. Being intimately familiar with classic Caffrey misdirection and deflection techniques, he could understand her mood now…

And he'd bet that Neal hadn't even needed to kick it into second gear.

"Maybe Neal is just frustrated, as I am, that we're being accused of something we didn't do," Peter suggested, very calmly.

"Are you saying now that you didn't remove Caffrey's tracking anklet?" Callaway challenged.

"Of course that's not what I'm saying. I've told you I did that, and explained why," Peter said, making a game effort to keep his temper in check. "As Neal's handler, it was well within my authority."

"Was it? We're getting the full agreement from the Marshals."

"Good."

It looked like Callaway was expecting him to say something else, but Peter just leaned back in his chair and met her stare.

She blinked first.

"I closed the Pratt case," she said, changing tactics. "But you reopened it without informing me."

"Frankly, I'm more interested in why the file was closed in the first place," Bancroft said as he re-entered the room with Hughes.

"There was no evidence," Callaway started.

"Oh, maybe not enough for a conviction," Bancroft agreed. "But there was plenty of circumstantial evidence to tie Pratt to Cole Edwards' money laundering scheme, as well as to the death of Dennis Flynn."

"Sir, I don't think…"

"Let's talk about what else there's evidence of, Agent Callaway," Hughes said, laying a file on the table in front of her. "This is your statement, is it not?"

"It is," she admitted, her voice tight.

"You relieved Agent Burke of his gun and badge in Pratt's office, is that correct?"

"Yes."

"The same gun that ballistics has now confirmed to be the weapon that fired the bullet that killed Pratt, is that correct?"

"Yes."

Hughes was in full authority mode. "And how do you explain that, Agent Callaway?"

"Agent Watson…"

Bancroft slammed his hand on the table. "Who was in charge, you or Agent Watson?"

"I was," she admitted.

"Did you secure the weapon you seized, Agent Callaway?" Hughes asked. When she made no move to answer, he asked again. "It's a simple question. Did you secure the weapon?"

Silence filled the room until Bancroft finally spoke. "Let's try another question. Did you warn Pratt about the search?"

"Sir, I would never…"

"Be very careful how you answer that," Bancroft warned. He reached into his pocket, setting a micro recorder on the table. "We have the recording."

Callaway's eyes went wide, but she didn't say anything.

"Your entire operation was seriously flawed, Callaway," Bancroft continued. "You called a potential suspect and warned him of the search. You allowed him into the search area, and then left him unattended in that space. You confiscated a weapon and then failed to secure it – something that's FBI 101." Bancroft sighed and pointed to the door. "You're suspended, Agent Callaway. Leave your badge with the duty officer on your way out. We've already seized your weapon from the security desk – and secured it."

Callaway got to her feet, straightened her jacket, and headed for the door.

"We'll notify you when you're needed for questioning," Bancroft called after her retreating form.

Hughes turned to Watson and Chambers. "Your roles in this will be examined. For now, you've both been assigned to Internal Bank Fraud. Agent Franklin is expecting you in the morning." He waved his hand, effectively dismissing the two junior agents.

Peter had watched all of the drama in silence. But, as the door closed again, he knew the focus had returned to him.

"Well, this is a fine mess, Peter," Hughes said, settling wearily onto the chair Callaway had vacated.

"It is," Peter agreed, equally as weary. "I don't suppose there's been any progress in finding Bennett?"

"Not yet," Bancroft replied. "We've elevated the BOLO to top priority with all of the law enforcement agencies."

Peter nodded, desperately wanting to ask more – to actually do something. But he knew that most likely wasn't going to happen. "Did you have a chance to talk to Elizabeth?"

Hughes nodded. "I did. She's fine – angry as all get out though."

"I can imagine," Peter replied.

"She's contacting your civil law lawyer to get a name for a defense attorney."

"Good. Wally's firm has some top-notch litigators."

"I suggested she might want someone with her at the house too," Hughes continued.

"They'll be searching the house," Peter guessed.

"Probably Caffrey's place as well," Hughes said, an unspoken question hanging in the air.

Peter knew they were still being recorded, so he took a moment to consider his words. "Since Neal hasn't done anything wrong, I highly doubt he'd be concerned."

Besides, from the hints he'd gotten before Diana was asked to leave, Neal had contacted Mozzie, and June had also been aware of the day's events. One or both of them had undoubtedly sanitized the apartment by now…

"He didn't appear to be when the Secret Service threatened him with a search," Bancroft admitted.

"Is he all right?" Peter asked.

"He's fine." Bancroft gave a short laugh. "Callaway took a shot at interrogating him after the Service agents left."

Peter managed not to smile. "I'm guessing she didn't get a confession out of him."

Hughes shook his head. "Hardly."

"Are you officially back with the Bureau, Reese?"

Bancroft was the one who answered. "I've asked Agent Hughes to come back as the interim Bureau Chief, at least until we get all of this sorted out. We need an experienced hand at the helm."

Peter did allow himself to smile at that news. "Good."

Hughes leaned across the table. "Peter, is there anything else you can tell us?"

Peter sighed and shook his head slowly. "I can't think of anything."

"And you really don't think Bennett had the evidence from this box?"

"I didn't see him with it," Peter confirmed. And he really didn't know the details on how the others had planned to get it out of the building – plausible deniability. "But, I don't know where he had been before I walked in."

"We've got agents scouring every inch of that building," Bancroft said. "It would certainly make things easier if we had some evidence to back up the claims of corruption."

"I'm sure it will show up," Peter said carefully. He was pretty sure that someone – Mozzie – was already working with that evidence.

"Yes, well, right now we have nothing to back up your statement," Bancroft said. "And with a United States Senator dead, the Secret Service isn't about to let this case rest without some real answers."

"I understand," Peter said, afraid he knew what was coming next.

"You're going to be held at Hawthorne, at least until they can get a preliminary hearing scheduled," Bancroft continued. "I've personally talked to the night officer in charge over there. Given your position as an agent, and Caffrey's as a CI, you'll both be held in the protective segregation unit."

Peter nodded, trying to keep his breathing even. "Of course." Prison had not been in his plans for the day…

"I'll contact the director of the facility in the morning," Hughes said. "I promised Elizabeth she'd be able to see you."

"I appreciate that."

"And we will get to the bottom of what happened, Peter," Bancroft assured him.

"I know you will," Peter replied, with all of the confidence he could muster.

Which actually wasn't all that much at the moment…