They followed the boy for almost two weeks before he led them to anything interesting. Williams tried to convince Valdez that Richards' son was a good lead but the woman had sneered at her that her inexperience and recent trauma coupled with her grief were clouding her judgement. She received assurances that the case was being handled and that they official investigators were following up on real leads instead of innocent victims. Jennifer almost laughed in the woman's face at that.

Peter took the neglected lead to Hughes who quietly reminded him it was not his case to investigate.

"Of course I don't control what my agents do on their own time." He said with a faint smile and a small shrug. "And at this point I would back any break in the case that cost the FBI two good men."

They split the time between the five of them four agents and one strange little man.

It was a warm drizzly Saturday morning in mid- June that he finally led them to his dad at the old carpet factory Richards used 7 years ago. Watching from a distance she recognized him, her mind instantly back in that alley nearly three months ago. Richards turning calmly from the small boy at Lenny's command to drop the weapon, his expression unchanging as he swung the weapon up and fired. Lenny collapsing in a heap at her feet… is unfocused eyes filled with shock and pain. Jennifer shook her head pushing her memory to happier memories of her friend just the way Neal showed her. She turned her attention back to the man walking in the same side door his son used just minutes before, flanked by his two goons. Jennifer smiled grimly and she gripped her phone hands trembling slightly as she dialed.

"Peter." She still hesitated to use a senior agent's first name but his entire team did it… "He's here… Richards is meeting Kevin at the factory he used to do business in" she told him, hurriedly slipping out of her car to peak through the door. She watched Richards hug his son, the boy grinning brightly. She couldn't hear the words but the teenager's expression spoke volumes. Snapping a few pictures, she felt for the kid. She started to draw back then… back up would arrive shortly and this nightmare would be over. She would be able to look Melinda in the eye and tell her they got Lenny's murderer in custody. They could finally close this this terrible chapter of their lives.

Suddenly Johnny Richards grabbed his phone, answering curtly. His voice was sharp… his movements suddenly quick. Hanging up he spoke to the boy seeming to encourage him to do something. She saw the kid nod and abruptly all of them were rushing toward the exit. Jennifer fell back looking over her shoulder for back up… no one was in sight. They couldn't get away. She couldn't let him get away. Pulling her weapon, she waited for the four men pressing her slim body close beside the door.

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

He could tell Nate was upset… the little boy bursting through the door with unshed tears in his eyes and rushing for the stairs.

"Nathen?" he called gently "Are you ok?"

"I'm not Nathen anymore." The child glared at him his tears spilling over. "People liked Nathen."

"Come here" Neal beckoned, hoping he wouldn't continue his flight… the second floor might as well have been the moon. To his relief the boy turned and shuffled back down to him, blue eyes on the floor. "What do you mean? What's wrong?"

"No one likes me." The tears overflowed

"What happened, Nate?"

"Nick said I was a stupid gringo… and everyone laughed at me, Ph̀x." His lip trembled as he swiped at his cheeks.

"Nate you are not by any means stupid. Why would he say that?"

"I don't know. I was talking to Sonja… she's my friend, at least I thought she was but he got mad and… and…" he looked up with crystal drops clinging to his dark lashes "and she laughed too… like everybody else." His gaze dropped to his feet "I really miss being Nathen."

"You look at me. Out there, in front of everyone you have to be Bobby Hamilton… but here just you and me, you will always be Nathen Bryant … always." He gently lay his and on the little boy's shoulder turning him toward the small studio. Inside he set up two canvases, prepared his pallet and passed his son the paint. "Tell me all about the people who liked Nathen… your mom and dad… your friends, your teachers… keep your mind on them." For a long time he listened to the boy talking animatedly as they lost themselves in the art, until the little voice suddenly fell silent. Neal turned at the sound of a tiny sob. The child's broken little voice tore at his heart but the words shocked him.

"It's all my fault."

"What's your fault?"

"All of this… if I had run… if I had screamed… if he hadn't taken me, you wouldn't be hurt. Mama and daddy wouldn't be in jail. That FBI man wouldn't be dead… It's all my fault" Neal stared at the small face gazing up at him to stunned to speak for a moment. The thought that his son would blame himself when he was so clearly an innocent victim had never ever occurred to him.

"Nate…" he began in a strangled voice his own guilt rising to the surface. "Nathen none of this is your fault. Do you hear me? Johnny did this to you and your family because of me…"

"But I should have…"

"No but's Nate." Neal looked at him. Time to be honest. He steeled himself. He would miss the love and respect in Nathen's eyes but he had to tell him. The thought of the little boy feeling guilty all this time… he shuddered. "I did this Nate. I talked Johnny into doing something that made him lose his job…" he choked, not wanting to say the next words "then his little girl got sick… they didn't take her to the doctor because…" he swallowed hard " she died, Nathen because of me. This is my fault and I am so, so sorry." He hung his head unable to face the revulsion and accusation he knew would color the boy's eyes now.

"Ph̀x …"the small hand slipped into his "last year my best friend wanted me to pick all of Mrs. Davis' tulips… when I did mama said it wasn't Gabe's fault I was in trouble because I knew it would get me in trouble and I still did it… did he know he would get in trouble if he did what you wanted?" Neal raised his gaze to meet Nathen's and forced a small stiff smile…if only it was that simple, but he knew better, knew his own guilt… eventually Nathen would too, but for now he was grateful for the child's simple trust.

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

It was dark as he rang the doorbell… almost eleven o'clock the intense heat of a desert summer day dissipating into the cool dry night, carried away by the soft breeze. He glanced up at the clear sky and the stars twinkling down at him, it would have been a beautiful night, if he didn't know a security guard at the Scottsdale art museum was fighting for his life after another strike from their man hating forger.

He hoped he wasn't waking Mike, but he needed his help. Karl shook his head, he'd known the man less than a month but he was almost certain that wasn't his name just as he was sure Mike had never taught English Literature. The young man knew too much about crime and criminals… and FBI procedure. He was also convinced it wasn't a car accident that cause the extensive injuries the man was recovering from. His best guess, Mike was an agent who had a case go south… badly apparently, forcing him and his son into hiding, maybe killing the boy's mother as well. Karl decided he didn't need to know, didn't even want to know. He certainly wasn't going to risk blowing the kid's cover because he was curious. He could ignore the nagging questions about their past but he did need Mike's help. So here he stood ringing his doorbell in the middle of the night.

"Little late for a social call, isn't it Karl?" he grinned as he swung the door open "this is about Alicia, I assume?"

"It is." Karl shifted his weight quietly waiting for an invitation

"Come in." Mike smiled a bit a strange trace of irony in his expression, leading the way to a room clearly intended to be an office. Obviously, Karl thought looking at the neatly organized shelves of paint, thinner and clay, Mike Hamilton had other ideas. "I was just working on a project to help clear my head. I take it the apartment idea didn't pan out?"

"There are seven complexes in the phoenix metro area that meet the criteria you outlined… and with no idea what this woman looks like…" he sighed "she struck again in Scottsdale… stabbed a guard."

The young man dropped his eyes a moment then suddenly his gaze flicked up "She'll need a fence…" he smiled " given her dislike of the male gender… how many high end female fences do you know of in the area."

"That's a good idea." He grinned "there can't be that many. I'll see if we can't get someone on the ones we know of." He glanced at the painting on the easel. It wasn't large but it did draw the eye. "That's pretty good… not that I'm an art expert or anything but… I like it"

"Thanks." Mike turned to cleaning his brushes for a long moment an awkward silence fell neither man sure what to say. "Hey Karl…?" the young man spoke softly "I've been thinking about those coyotes… I think I might have an idea."