"What happened Neal?" the younger man just shook his head in response. "You have to talk to Reynolds... Tell him what you know… for Donny"

"I can't. "He glanced at Peter before uttering two words Peter had never heard him say. "I'm… afraid."

He knew it made him a coward, before he said it he knew but he couldn't stop the words. He was afraid, mind numbingly afraid. Just the thought of that night and all the years and cons since vanished, he was once more a cowering teenager. He hated this, feeling so helpless. He stared at the river, willing his mind to flow like the Siene, steady and calm. He didn't dare look at Peter. He knew the look his friend's face wore, disappointment, disapproval and probably a hint of pity.

The hand on his shoulder surprised him, Neal glanced at it. Then slowly he forced his eyes up to Peter's face. Not the look he was expecting. Peter smiled then firmly pulled him for a hug. For a moment, just one moment Neal let it happen. After 12 months of rigidly keeping the world at arm's length he couldn't believe how good it felt to just for a few seconds to not be alone.

Then with a firmness he didn't really have he pushed Peter away. "I'm fine" Neal knew that look, Peter was not buying it. He drew himself up straightening his shoulders and tried for a grin." You're really going to make me talk to him, aren't you?"

"Make you? No, but…" Peter looked at him "I know how much you wanted justice for… Kate and Ellen. I can't believe you really feel any different about…"

Neal looked at his hands. He's right…I know he's right but… He took a deep breath "I won't talk to Reynolds, Peter…" another deep breath "but I will talk to you… if he wants to listen in…" He managed a small shrug.

He took his time refilling his glass. Then gazed at his painting, it wasn't finished but… he couldn't think what it needed. He swapped it for a fresh canvas as Peter escorted the other agent into the room. Maybe painting would steady him enough to get through this. He adjusted the easel in front of the window… and settled his eyes on the river. He was a great con artist he could be like the river… steady, calm and strong, at least for a little while.

)()()()()()()()()()()()(

Reynolds stared at the door. The thought of kicking it in had flitted through his mind. Why had he let Burke go in there alone? Anything could be happening in there… He moved forward to grab the door knob when the door swung open. Burke slipped out into the hall and closed the door

"What are you doing?" Reynolds hissed "We are not leaving."

"No we're not… He's ready to talk to you."

Reynolds eyebrows arched incredulously "really...?"

"Before we go in Reynolds let's get one thing straight. You will not go in there and start throwing around crimes scene pictures…Neal is not your guy on this, but he just might know who is."

"You really believe that?"

"I do. You don't have to like him Reynolds but, he is your only lead right now…try treating him with a little decorum"

Reynolds nodded with a frown. "If he's not guilty…why did he challenge me to find evidence?" Burke just shrugged with a sigh.

"Because he's Neal." Burke opened the door and stepped back into the small apartment. "Come on" Reynolds noticed Caffrey casually swapping out one canvas for another and quietly studying the view out the large window…absently sipping a glass of red wine. "Still as cold as ice' he thought

Caffrey finally turned from the window when Burke said "Neal? You ready?" softly, gently Reynolds noted. The man nodded.

"Whenever you are." He looked pointedly at the recorder in Reynolds' hand

The agent flipped the switch "ok let's hear it. What do you know about the death of Donny Mitchel, Leo Davis, and Rico Mendez?"

"Everything" Caffrey said quietly as he turned back to his easel and began painting. "We got by on small stuff…" he smiled glancing at Burke "Donny taught me the basics of picking pockets…" Burke gave a tiny snort that might have been a smothered chuckle. "Then we had a brilliant idea… We heard a rumor about Kyle Nolan. He used to be a defense lawyer, the kind who would defend anyone as long as they could pay… the rumor was that some of his clients paid him in cash" he sent Reynolds a pointed look "the kind that could use a trip to the dry cleaners, that he kept it in a safe at his place… sometimes as much a 100 thousand. It sounded like a lot of money to us."

"You're confessing to robbing this Kyle Nolan?" Reynolds broke in

"Statute of limitations" Caffrey answered smugly grinning at him before turning back to the painting "Besides we didn't actually rob him…we planned to but … Breaking and entering is a pretty minor charge." He waited until Reynolds nodded then went on. "We watched him, he went out at 6:00 every Tuesday evening…and stayed away for about 3 hours… it was a good plan" he sent a look at Burke "For my first time… but we miscalculated."

"Miscalculated?" Burke asked sounding surprised

"Miscalculated how long it would take to shut down his security system… miscalculated how long the safe would take..."

"You miscalculated? On a safe?"

"Well it was my first one." The man sounded indignant. "And I did get it open." Burke's expression was openly amused at that "and the money was there… more than 100 thousand… a lot more, closer to 250. Then things went catastrophically wrong." He stared out the window silently a few seconds…then a few more

"What happened, Neal?" Burke prompted softly.

"Nolan came home early." He smirked "half an hour early... he had a gun. He said sit… there wasn't really any other option… no escape. We thought he was calling the police until… Guess he didn't want to risk them looking too closely at the money. Three men came...Dangerous men with more muscle than brains… and guns. 38 caliber." Caffrey shrugged "there must have been more than cash in the safe ...they kept asking what we saw…they didn't like our answers I guess… they tried to… persuade us to… be more cooperative…it was not a pleasant hour." The implication was clear. Reynolds glanced at Burke noticing his lips were tight, his eyes blazing. Caffrey inclined his head toward him as if expecting an outburst then went on. That same calm quiet voice as if he were discussing the weather… "One of them finally stopped long enough to take a call…I knew, we all knew what was coming next. They marched us outside and into a van… a brown van… Chevy…older…" Caffrey frowned

"Something wrong?" Reynold asked sharply

"I can't quite remember the plate number… there was a 7 and an A but… that's all I recall. I didn't really pay that much attention" with a shrug his face relaxed into his natural smirk "they drove about half an hour…when we stopped we were in the forest… a little dirt road. They pulled us into the woods about 50 yards from the van. Forced us down on our knees…" Caffrey stared at his painting thoughtfully before continuing "they shot Rico first, then Leo... then ...Donny." his tone was still conversational

"But not you?" Reynolds raised his eyebrow doubtfully. To his surprise the young man laughed, a short harsh sound.

"I got lucky…"

"How?"

"A car passed… the sound and the lights… they looked back, to make sure we weren't visible, I guess…" that sharp harsh laugh again "I didn't ask. I just ran… I found a highway and flagged down a trucker who was kind enough to give me a ride."

"Do you remember the name of the trucker?" Reynolds pushed.

"Bill… or Ben… something like that." Another look at Burke when the other man made a small sound in his throat. "I wasn't really in the mood for conversation. I remember the truck though… red... a Mack…Swift company... the plate was 8BT-26J."

"After 15 years you remember the license plate on the truck but not the van?"

"I got a pretty good look at it" the voice was almost sheepish

"Go on."

"That's about it. After I was in the cab... it was warm and dry. I felt relatively safe… I fell asleep pretty quickly. Next thing I remember clearly was in North Carolina."

"You went to sleep? After all of that..."

"Yeah. I was tired"

"So you went sleep?"

"Yeah… is something wrong with that?"

"When did this happen, Neal?" Burke broke in

"March 14th 2000" a tiny frown "might have been the 15th by the time I stopped the trucker."

"So it was passed your bed time" Reynolds pushed.

"Neal…"The other agent's voice was disturbingly kind. "Do you remember what these men looked like?"

"Yeah, I remember."

"You think you could get Agent Reynolds a sketch of them?" Caffrey nodded

"Good" Reynolds said "you can work with an artist when we get back to the States." The other 2 men grinned openly at that, and Caffrey picked up a pad. Then he slowly flexed his fingers a couple of times

"It doesn't have to be now, Neal" Burke lay his hand one the younger man's arm gently "soon but not right now. I'll be back in a little while… you going to be ok?"

"I'm fine"

The walk down the stairs was quiet… Peter glanced at Reynolds as they stepped out onto the sidewalk. He was waiting for the other man to say something. He cleared his throat

"His story is consistent with the injuries found on the remains"

"So you believe him?"

"I believe he was there…" Reynolds sighed "I need to confirm the rest of it"

Peter nodded… "Of course"

"Even if every word he said is true…That man is a heartless son of a b*#$&."

"You'd think so… wouldn't you" Peter smiled

"He just described a triple murder like he was talking about a walk in the park. Those kids… Donny Mitchel was just 17…"

"You don't know him… this wasn't as easy as he made it look."

"You really believe that, don't you?"

"Yes. I know Neal… he's not a violent man… one of the farthest from it I've ever met, actually"

"He may have never resorted to violence yet… But he is a sociopath… he has no moral compass. I understand people like that… I see them all the time in my field. They are incredibly dangerous."

"Neal is not dangerous."

"He is a monster. It may not have shown through yet but it will! It always does. Sociopaths don't care who they hurt. I know" Reynolds voice broke "A man like that is the reason I'm a single dad."

Peter's head jerked up, suddenly comprehending Reynolds obsession. Quietly he studied the other man's pain filled eyes, trying to think of something adequate to say. "I'm sorry…" was all he managed.