"That's it," Jones admitted, tossing the last folder down on the table. "Only two suspects where the prosecution of the cases really relies on what Neal got undercover. Both suspects are involved in negotiations for plea bargains, so they're not fighting anything. All the other cases, Neal got us good information, but it led to so much other evidence that that they're pretty much open and shut."

"But if someone challenges the sting, they could get the other evidence thrown out," Peter mused.

Jones nodded. "True. We've got no one who's filed a challenge yet, but I sent the names over to the US Attorney's office. They're checking the files to see if there's anything new."

"It just doesn't make sense," Diana said. "Neal doesn't testify, so even without him, we still have the recordings. And we're the ones who would be questioned about how the operation was set up."

"I know." Peter sighed, staring out the window. "And that's the last six months, right Jones?"

"I went back eight months, just to be sure," Jones replied.

"Any threats…"

"Nothing." Jones got to his feet, adding his own sigh. "Peter, we have lots of unhappy people. But not a single specific threat against Neal."

Peter nodded and turned back to the table. "What about Sara's cases?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary," Rollins reported. "We're required to report any threats, and Sara hasn't filed anything." He closed the file in front of him and looked up at Peter. "Agent Burke, you have to understand. If there was evidence that could be taken to the FBI or the police, we wouldn't be going in to recover our clients' property. The people we recover property from can't very well go to the police, since they stole the items in the first place. And even if they knew that Sterling Bosch performed the recovery, the company wouldn't release the investigator's name."

"Maybe they caught Ms. Ellis on surveillance," Blake suggested.

"Unlikely," Rollins argued. "Sara is very good at what she does."

"We've got Westley running the names on her recent cases, just to see if there are any outstanding warrants or open cases against any of them," Diana added.

"No matches on the traffic search?" Peter asked.

"I.T. is running the recordings now," Diana confirmed. She checked the display on her phone. "Nothing yet."

"Neal's phone has all of my messages, unheard," Peter said. He picked up the evidence bag with the phone, and the corresponding report, before sliding them back onto the table. Jones caught them just before they went off the edge. "Sara's phone?"

Jones referred to the report in his e-mail. "The call to Neal. Several calls from her office trying to locate her. We're waiting on a warrant to get the records from her home number."

Peter sank back into his chair. "So we still have nothing. We don't know if they were taken separately or together. We don't know if it's over something from Sara's cases, or Neal's past. For that matter, we don't even know that they were taken. Maybe Neal just decided to cut and run, and talked Sara into going with him."

No one at the table really had anything to add to that, so Peter finally got back to his feet, heading for the door. "All right, I need to brief Hughes on everything we don't have. Keep working."

When the storm finally hit with its full fury, it did so with an intensity that neither of them could have imagined.

Fortunately, they'd had warning that it was coming. All of their precious survival supplies were fastened down, either with the straps attached to the raft for just that purpose, or with duct tape – or both.

As the swells grew, starting them on a ride that might have made even the most avid roller coaster enthusiast pale, they donned all of their clothing again and strapped on the life vests.

Previously, Neal had thought that the first few nights in prison had to be the most terrifying time in his life. But as the rain pelted down on them, and the wind whipped the tiny raft mercilessly, and the waves grew to resemble mountains, he knew he had a new understanding of what terror was.

They couldn't even talk to comfort each other. The noise of the wind and the crashing waves meant that any communication required yelling, and even then, in the cramped quarters, they couldn't hear each other.

Mostly, they just held on, to the raft, and to each other.

Peter looked up as a shadow appeared at his door. Jones and Diana stood there, waiting anxiously. "El, I have to go. I'll call you later. Bye, hon." He hung up the phone and motioned for the agents to come in. "Tell me."

"We might have found something to explain what happened to Neal and Sara," Diana started.

Jones set his open laptop on Peter's desk, turning the screen toward the senior agent. "I was looking at Neal's phone. There was a micro-SD card in there. Take a look."

Peter did, skimming through several pages of the file before looking up. "This isn't something we were working on."

Diana laid a file on his desk. "No, it doesn't tie in to our cases. But when we looked through the files Rollins brought again, we found this."

"Recovery of a Crosse miniature." Peter flipped through a couple more pages. "Something Sara did, I assume."

"Yeah. The miniature was insured by Sterling Bosch. They had a pretty good idea who took it, and who had it, part of a business dispute, but no proof," Diana replied.

"How do we get from this to Neal and Sara going missing?" Peter asked.

Jones reached over and flipped the file back to the first page. "Barry Koontz. He's the one Sara went after for the recovery."

Peter closed his eyes, trying to remember something. "That name is familiar, but I can't think of a case."

"He's never been one of our cases," Diana said. "Koontz was a civilian employee working for the police department – specifically, for the office of the deputy commissioner."

"And he just died a few weeks ago," Peter added as the news article came back to him. "Not natural causes?"

"Hard to say, the files have been sealed. And given this," Diana said, pointing at the laptop. "Well, I'm not sure I can go through regular channels. The coroner is at some function in Albany tonight, but I have an appointment first thing in the morning to talk in person."

"There's something else too." Jones pulled the laptop closer, switched to a different display, and turned it back toward Peter. "I ran a check on Koontz's name and this came up on one of the secure inter-agency sites."

"Koontz was called to testify in a grand jury hearing." Peter sighed and looked up again. "I'm sure those files are sealed too."

Jones nodded. "They are. And, like Diana said, with Donnelly involved, we can't go through our regular channels. But I went to law school with one of the prosecutors, and she's meeting me for coffee in the morning, away from her office."

Peter leaned back in his chair. "So, what do we have? You're thinking that Koontz found out about Donnelly's little side activities, got the evidence, hid it behind a stolen miniature, and Sara just happened to get it along with the recovered art."

"It makes more sense than anything else we've been able to find," Diana said.

"What about the original owner, the Sterling Bosch client?" Peter asked.

Diana pointed at the file on Peter's desk. "According to that, her name is Marjory Holmes. American, works in sales for a tech company. She's been living in Geneva for the last seven months for work. Rollins went back to his office to see if there was more useful information in the client file, but our search shows no indication that she had any involvement with NYPD."

"He did say that Sara had had their cryptanalyst working on something recently," Jones added. "But there's no record anywhere on what it was, just that it turned out not to be related to the insured item. Makes sense though, that Koontz might have encrypted his files with something this sensitive."

Peter nodded, a million questions vying for his attention. "So, Sara got the unencrypted file, realized it was something big, and she called Neal – why not just come here?"

"We'd just be guessing," Diana pointed out. "But maybe it was an excuse to see him?"

"Maybe," Peter conceded. "But if this was in Neal's phone, he must have seen what it was. Why didn't he call me?"

"I think he started to, Peter." Jones reached into his pocket and pulled Neal's phone out. "Call history had all of the unheard messages you left him, but if you look at the outgoing call record, he dialed your number, just a couple of minutes before that disturbance call to emergency services."

"I never got a call," Peter said.

Jones pulled up the record and held the screen up. "It was only thirteen seconds. Sometimes there's a delay. Probably never connected on your end."

Peter sighed and got up, turning toward the window. The sky had darkened with storm clouds, and the first drops of rain were splattering against the window. "So this really might have nothing to do with Neal at all."

He didn't see the look his junior agents exchanged behind his back before Diana answered. "Except for probably being with the wrong person at the wrong time in the wrong place."

The good news was that the tiny raft bobbed like a cork, somehow staying afloat in the fury of the storm.

The bad news was that the tiny raft bobbed like a cork, rolling over every peak and valley the ocean threw at it.

At one point, the entrance flap was ripped open, and the water poured in. In the midst of the tempest, there was no way to try and fix it. Sara and Neal used the metal cups to frantically bail as the ocean threatened to swamp their world.

Once, when Sara was leaning over to dump some water out, the storm tipped them up on the rise of a huge wave. She was flung downward, directly toward the open flap, and Neal only just managed to grab the back of her vest in time.

The storm raged on.

"So you have no idea where they might be?"

Peter shook his head in frustration. "None. It might be related to one of Sara's recovery cases, but it's all just a theory at this point. We don't have any real proof of anything."

Elizabeth shifted up onto her elbow, looking down at her husband. "What happens next?"

"Jones and Diana are following up on a couple of things in the morning, so maybe we'll get something useful. Hughes is bringing in Missing Persons tomorrow afternoon if we haven't found anything. And the marshals are still involved in the search. We've got notices out at all of the airports. Train stations too, but they're a lot harder to monitor."

She sighed and settled back down on the bed, curling into his side. "I hope you find something soon."

Peter wrapped his arm around her and pressed a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Me too, El. Me too."

It wasn't long before Elizabeth's breathing evened out and she fell asleep.

It was a very long time before sleep found Peter that night.