"What do you mean you can't say anything?" Ashlyn O'Laighin growled, running a hand through her blonde hair as she paced in front of a bench in Boston Common.

Kevin Roth, an FBI agent, looked down sheepishly. The sun had reddened his forehead with sweat, and dark spots were forming under the armpits of his T-shirt, which was a little too tight.

Ashlyn O'Laighin, daughter of Elizabeth Rizzoli and Maggie Ross, was once one of the most renowned prosecutors in Boston, until the moment more than a year ago when she approached a woman named Anja Brandt in the Boston courthouse lawyers' room looking for a competent criminal defense attorney and described her husband Nicholas's situation to the blonde, who at the time had not identified herself as an ADA. Due to this rookie mistake, Ashlyn's former supervisor, Saunters, had instructed her to represent Nicholas Brandt's case in court to the best of her ability.

Reluctantly, she followed the instructions and eventually found herself in a seemingly opaque web of intrigue and conspiracy.

She hadn't won the case because it was impossible to even try. Still, she had been able to negotiate a six-year prison sentence for Nicholas Brandt for the murder of attorney Eric Sanchez, who had threatened Brandt's daughter Lily with death.

This small success had opened Ashlyn's eyes, and she looked at and questioned all the cases that came across her desk at the prosecutor's office, which did not always meet with the management's approval. For this reason, she resigned as a prosecutor and opened her own small law firm a few months ago.

Ashlyn had the impression that the FBI agent was increasingly uncomfortable, but she didn't care about that. She felt as if Roth wanted to take her for a ride, and she didn't know exactly what to think of it. Their meeting this morning went completely differently than she had imagined.

The FBI agent had called her directly after the Brandt case and reported that her partner's brother, Leon Shae, was involved in a criminal investigation that would soon shake the Boston political and business scene. Her former colleague in the public prosecutor's office, Ryan Bauman, was also said to be involved against whom she had competed in the Brandt case. Months ago, Roth did not want to reveal more on the phone, so Ashlyn asked him for today's meeting after nothing had happened for ages, and the media had not reported anything about a political and economic earthquake.

And now Roth needed to be more forthcoming.

"Really, Ashlyn, I've already told you way too much back then. And no matter what I tell you now, you'll do your research anyway," Roth hemmed and hawed. "If I give you more information, someone will find out sooner. And if that happens, I'll be exposed. And I can't afford that."

Ashlyn slowly realized that she was getting nowhere else. The FBI agent had obviously changed his mind. Something must have prompted him to do so. And whatever it was, he seemed to have decided not to say anything more about it. At least not now.

"Okay," Ashlyn said angrily, deciding to end the conversation. She had neither the desire nor the time to artificially prolong the uncomfortable situation. "If you change your mind, you know where to find me. I have to get back to the office."

Roth nodded slowly.

Ashlyn turned on her heel and walked back to her car. On the way, she reached for her iPhone and called her cousin, Jalen Simms.

Jalen picked up on the second ring. "Hey, Ash, good to hear from you. What's up?"

Ashlyn got into her car and frowned a little. "I need to talk to you," she replied, getting straight to the point. "There's something you need to help me with."

xxx

A glance at the clock showed Tracy Payne that Tim Garner should be calling in the next few minutes. She pulled some sheets of paper out of the printer and scribbled a few circles in the upper right corner with her fine liner. She hated it when she wanted to take notes, and the pen wouldn't write.

Tracy Payne looked much younger than her actual age. You wouldn't think she was thirty-three. This tendency runs in the family, her mother had always emphasized, who was flattered that her age was also apparently unnoticeable. Tracy knew how to skillfully use this fact to her advantage because anyone who didn't know her tended to underestimate the successful journalist.

But appearances were deceptive. As a local editor, she reported on events in Boston for five years. She devoted herself to her work with passion and commitment, especially regarding uncomfortable topics. She could rely one hundred percent on the support of her editor-in-chief, Caden Blackwell. He gave her the freedom and the time to research and thoroughly investigate her stories with the necessary care. This was entirely in keeping with the motto that Blackwell liked to quote, and that was emblazoned in a prominent position on the front page of every issue of the Boston Tribune: Rerum Cognoscere Causas. Or getting to the bottom of things, as in the translation of the quote from Virgil. And Payne had also committed herself to this motto.

Tim Garner was one of the two men around whom their current story revolved. They had planned an interview for the next day and agreed to discuss the exact procedure and the planned questions again today.

It was exactly seven o'clock in the evening when her cell phone rang. With her left hand, she twisted her long dark hair into a bun and pinned it with a pencil so that it wouldn't fall in front of her before she took the call.

"Hello, Mr. Garner," she said, snapping the cap off her pen with her right hand. "I'm glad you called. Are you okay?"

"Well, I'm okay," Garner replied, and Tracy Payne thought she heard a certain tension in his voice. That surprised her. When they first met, Garner had been very unsure of himself, which seemed to be simply part of his character. But after they had met a few times, he gradually gained confidence and seemed a little less nervous in her presence each time.

"Why, what's wrong?" she asked.

"Well," Garner continued. "Justin's not getting in touch anymore!"

"What do you mean he's not getting in touch?"

"I can't reach him. We were supposed to meet today and call you together, but he didn't show up."

"Why didn't he come? And where did you want to meet?" Tracy Payne asked, annoyed at the moment she had asked two questions simultaneously. She didn't want to make Garner even more nervous. 'I mean... why didn't he come?'

"I don't know. He wanted to go away for two weeks on vacation. To the West Coast, I think. But he should have been back by now."

"I see," she stated, drawing small circles on the paper sheet before her. Without Justin Booker, the interview would have been impossible; she needed both perspectives. That would increase her story's credibility and make the whole thing more lively and exciting. Her boss had promised her a full page in the Sunday edition. And she didn't want to do without that. Besides, the story was close to her heart. The story of the two men had to be made public.

"Did he want to come back to Boston today?" she asked, not quite sure whether Garner was just being overprotective or if there was something to it.

"No, yesterday, but we were supposed to meet today," Garner replied. "To go over everything again for the interview. And then to call you."

Payne thought that Booker had canceled two appointments. Of all times. Why? Had Booker changed his mind about something?

She clearly needed to get a little more clarity here. "Is that unusual for him?" she asked further. "Does your friend often just disappear for a few days and not get in touch?"

"I don't know. Well, no... not really."

"I see. And tell me, would it be possible for you to stop by and see him? At his apartment, I mean. Maybe there's a simple explanation, and he forgot the appointment."

"Sure, I could do that," Garner replied tensely.

"And if you don't meet him if he's not there, maybe you know some of his friends, you could ask? Perhaps he's just out and about?" Tracy Payne tried again to shed some light on the situation. Booker was Garner's friend, so there had to be ways to discover more.

"And what do we do if I don't see him?" Garner replied.

That was an excellent question. Tracy Payne wasn't sure how to interpret the uncertainty in Garner's voice. Was it worry? Or fear? It wouldn't be surprising. After all, the subject of her story was very controversial. Had any of it leaked out? Could something have happened to Booker? She paused. No, that was unlikely. That would be too absurd. Booker was gone, but there could be millions of reasons for that. Something may have come up. So, for now, assume it was an accident and nothing terrible. Getting upset wouldn't help anyone.

"Listen," she said, trying to sound confident to calm Garner down. "I'm sure nothing has happened to your friend. He may just be two days late because he likes where he is so much. And there's probably a straightforward explanation for why he can't be reached now. So here's what we're going to do. You'll check in with him and try to reach him today and tomorrow. But don't drive yourself crazy. If you can't get him by tomorrow and he doesn't get back to you, call me again, and we'll discuss it."

Payne paused briefly to make sure Garner had understood everything. When he hadn't said anything after five seconds, she added, "What do you think? Shall we do it that way?"

She heard Garner breathing heavily before he answered. "Yes, okay. I think so."

"Well, you see, then we agree." After she hung up, she decided to leave it at that moment. She had done everything she could for today, and hopefully, they would know more tomorrow.