"Micaela, you have no idea how nice it is to wake up and do nothing." Maura Isles gestured invitingly at the chair across from her, which was in her favorite coffee shop. The former DA seemed to be enjoying her life as a retiree. "Please, have a seat."

"I'm pleased to do that," Micaela replied cheerfully, smiling at the waitress, who immediately took her order. "And yes, I certainly can't imagine that at all. Not with the work we're doing right now. But I'm not telling you anything new there."

"No, it's not! But, Micaela, you didn't come here to talk to me about my life, did you?"

"No, that's right. And thank you from the bottom of my heart for taking the time to see me. As you can probably guess, it's about a case I'm working on. And, to be honest, I'm a bit at a loss with it."

Maura looked at the younger woman calmly. "Well, I'm curious about that. It's been quite a while since I had anything to do with murder and mayhem professionally."

"That's right," Micaela replied. For a reason, she had approached Maura Isles, who had decades of experience investigating crimes committed by and against young people and children in Boston. 'It's about something that happened so long ago that, unfortunately, we no longer have the files.'

"Yes, you mentioned that on the phone. And I hope I can help you. What exactly was the matter?"

"The Granther experiment."

Maura's smile vanished instantly. "Granther," she said. "A horrible thing. And extremely unsatisfactory." She reached for the large mug and took a drink. "Unfortunately, we didn't come to any conclusions about the matter at the time. Although it looked very promising in principle."

Micaela took a pad and pen out of her briefcase to take notes. She had a feeling that her retired superior had a lot to contribute. "And what happened then?"

Maura raised her eyebrows and licked her lips. "Well, in the end, we had to stop everything?"

"And why exactly?"

"Essentially, for purely formal reasons. Most of the relevant crimes were simply statute-barred." Maura paused and shook her head with a sigh. "But what annoyed me even more at the time was that some of the employees at the youth welfare office were so uncooperative. None of them could remember anything and said they were only following orders. It was always someone else's responsibility. And the files we requested from the youth welfare office were either only partially provided or not at all."

"Probably no one felt like helping with their own conviction," Micaela soberly stated.

Maura took another sip of her coffee before adding. "We both know that a file can get misplaced. But back then, it was a conspicuous amount."

"That does sound strange. Are you saying that someone deliberately withheld the files?"

"I don't want to accuse anyone wrongly, but it didn't seem quite kosher. But tell me, why are you interested in all this, and what does it have to do with you?"

"I'm investigating a death that may be connected to Granther. In any case, there are several indications. And since there are no more records," the younger woman replied with a cynical smile, 'it has not become any easier.'

Maura nodded slowly. "And what exactly is your question?"

Micaela Barboza looked at her companion seriously and leaned forward over the table: "Who was involved in the matter then? Do you still remember any of the people involved? Because it seems that the shadow of the past extends into the present."

Maura looked thoughtfully at the table and reported general information about the case, the proceedings, and the circumstances. Then she shook her head. "I really can't remember more than that. It was so long ago, and in almost every case involving a juvenile, we also have an assessment from the youth welfare office. And often, it's about abuse. After all these years, I would only confuse the names of the employees." The retired DA looked at Micaela intently. 'I'm sorry. I wish I had some useful information for you.'

xxx

Not bad, thought Ashlyn, parking her car in front of the imposing city mansion.

Either Micaela has inherited or won the lottery. Or her husband is very wealthy. She tried to push the last thought aside, but she couldn't. In the end, I messed up. We could have had something, but I claimed I didn't feel the same way about Mica and just left. Is it fair to use that against her now?

On her way over, she reached for the bottle of red wine she had bought at the Hardy wine store and locked her car. Then she crossed the street and pressed the bell button under the brass sign at precisely seven o'clock.

"Just come in; I'll let you in," she heard Micaela's voice on the intercom shortly after, which was surprisingly good sound quality. There was a brief buzz, and Ashlyn pushed open the hand-forged gate. She walked through the front yard and climbed the five steps of the Art Nouveau villa in two strides. The door opened as she reached the landing, and Micaela beamed at the blonde.

"Ashlyn, it's so good to see you," the ADA said, extending a welcoming gesture and inviting Ashlyn into the imposing foyer. The blonde was unsure, a feeling she hadn't had in a long time. Not like this. "Come in, I'm still cooking."

Ashlyn gritted her teeth and followed the brunette, standing shortly after that in Micaela's kitchen, whose large windows offered a view of the spacious garden.

"Thank you," Micaela said, taking the wine from Ashlyn. 'Would you like to pour us a glass?' She pointed to an antique sideboard, on which, in addition to a few cookbooks, there was a bowl of fruit. 'There's a corkscrew in the drawer.'

Ashlyn nodded silently and was relieved. Micaela seemed to have wholly overcome the irritation of her last phone calls. Her tension was gone. Ashlyn had always admired that about her. She was the least resentful person Ashlyn knew. All at once, the blonde felt better. Everything was very familiar, just like before. Then she looked around. In the middle of the kitchen was a large, solid wood dining table with two deep plates next to a vase of colorful autumn flowers.

"Phil is in his apartment," Micaela continued. 'There are wine glasses in the cupboard.'

Ashlyn looked at her friend with a questioning look.

With a broad smile, DA Ashlyn returned her gaze. "Oh, I didn't tell you that. Phil and I have been separated for some time. It didn't work out between Phil and me in the end."

Ashlyn felt her heart skip a beat. She had imagined many things. How she would meet Micaela's husband, for example. But she hadn't expected this news. "Oh, right. There?" she asked, pointing to the cupboard next to the stove.

"Exactly!"

Ashlyn took out two red wine glasses and placed them on the table. Then she took the corkscrew and the bottle, opened them with practiced movements, and poured the two glasses. Then she handed one of the glasses to ADA, and the glasses were clinked with her.

"To old times," said Micaela with a broad smile.

"To old times!" replied Ashlyn.

They looked into each other's eyes and then took a big gulp.

"Come on, can you help me?" Micaela said. "Can you wash the salad?"

Ashlyn nodded slowly. She looked at Micaela, who was pushing a mountain of salsicca wheels from a wooden board into the cast-iron pan. The sausage immediately began to fry in the hot olive oil, and a pleasant smell spread throughout the kitchen.

"It won't be as good as your grandmother Jane's, but it's her original recipe."

Ashlyn had to laugh. "If it's her recipe, it'll be as good as hers. Because when you cook with --"

"...cook with love, I know," Micaela finished Ashlyn's sentence. 'The real secret of Italian cuisine.'

Ashlyn looked at the ADA, and Micaela returned her gaze just for a moment. Then, the brunette smiled at her and pointed to the four shallots on the sideboard next to a large wooden board. "Do you want to cut the onions after the salad?"

Ashlyn nodded and got to work. She washed the Lollo Rosso, dried it in the salad spinner, and then tore it into bite-sized pieces, which she threw into a large bowl. After that, she chopped the shallots and added them to the Italian sausage in the pan. She wondered whether she should talk to Micaela about why she had arrived today. The Garner case. She decided against it for the time being. There would be time for that after dinner. "Shall we put on some music?" she asked, and Micaela nodded.

She reached for her smartphone and started the music.

In silence, the two women prepared the meal over the next few minutes, and Ashlyn felt that Micaela knew just as little as she did about how to categorize this moment. What the heck, the blonde thought. Just see what happens.

"Is this actually your house?" Ashlyn asked, frowning to break the silence.

"No," Micaela laughed. "The house belongs to Phil. My soon-to-be ex-husband. His family owns numerous properties in Boston, and he's moved into the city center. After the divorce, I'll probably move out of here, but it'll probably take a few more months.

Ashlyn nodded but didn't elaborate.

An hour and two plates of pasta later, the criminal defense attorney poured the rest of the red wine into Micaela's glass.

Ashlyn wiped her mouth with the napkin, folded it carefully, and placed it beside her plate. As much as she was enjoying the moment, she knew she had a job to do and was in a relationship. "Mica --" she started, but before the blonde could continue, the ADA raised her hand.

"I know," Micaela said. 'You want to know where we stand on the Garner case. Don't worry; you and I know that this case is far from over, and we have responsibilities. In fact, I've got a few things figured out.'

Ashlyn raised her eyebrows.

"So. The situation is as follows. As we already know, there was a preliminary investigation at the time of the Granther experiment, which was initiated at the request of the head of the youth welfare office. There were apparently all sorts of accusations, mainly against Granther himself. It seems that he thought that children and young people from broken homes would best find their way back to an orderly life if they were placed in the care of pedophiles. In his view, they would be offered a loving environment that would differ from their previous situation. He became entangled in a crude, completely twisted mixture of trivializing the abuse and assuming that pedophiles have a special motivation to endure a daily routine with difficult adolescents that others would not be willing to take on in the long run."

Ashlyn shook her head in disgust. Even though she already knew this information, she was always horrified at how something like this could have happened.

"As was to be expected," Micaela continued, 'numerous of these children were then verifiably victims of sexual assault by their foster fathers. As far as they had the opportunity to talk to caring staff about it, their stories had either not been believed or simply not taken as an opportunity to change anything.'

"That's unbelievable," Ashlyn exclaimed.

"It is. But that's not all. Granther himself had also published the information about his experiment. However, he waited until he could be sure the actions were all statute-barred so that he could no longer be prosecuted."

"And how did the preliminary investigation go then? Granther was acquitted, was he?"

"As expected, it was dismissed due to the statute of limitations. And also due to lack of evidence, because the facts were fragile even back then."

"And now Granther is dead," Ashlyn stated.

"Yes, he has been for several years."

"Then he can't be the one behind our current cases," Ashlyn concluded with a furrowed brow. 'But who else could be interested in making our two boys disappear if not Granther himself?' She thought for a moment and then looked Micaela directly in the eye. "Who besides Granther is still interested in keeping this from coming to light? The statute of limitations protects everyone else, doesn't it?"

"That's the million-dollar question," Micaela replied.

"Then we'll just have to go through the files from cover to cover and look at who was involved at the time," the former ADA continued. "And then we'll look for each party's motive." She looked challengingly at Micaela. "Could you provide me with copies of the files?"

Micaela licked her lips and shook her head, and a mixture of incomprehension and disappointment appeared on Ashlyn's face. But before she could say anything, Micaela replied thoughtfully, "Even if I wanted to, I couldn't." She paused. "I got all the information I shared with you from former employees. On the other hand, the files have all been destroyed by the regulation on the retention period for written records of the court, the DA's office, and the correctional facility."

xxx

Disappointed, Ashlyn parked near her apartment and turned off the engine. As beautifully as the evening had begun, it had ended unpleasantly. They were back to square one. And their situation had stayed the same. After Micaela had told her that all the files in the DA's office had been destroyed, Ashlyn had the unpleasant suspicion that they would also have little success with the youth welfare offices.

Ashlyn locked the car and headed towards her apartment. As always, she avoided the elevator and walked up the stairs to the last floor to get at least some exercise. Her job had left her little time for exercise in the previous few months, and even though she resolved every day to at least walk for thirty minutes in the morning, it usually remained a good intention. With long strides, always taking two steps at a time, she climbed the last flight of stairs and was satisfied to find that she was at least not out of breath.

After she had locked the apartment door behind her and poured herself a large glass of wine, she wondered whether she should call Dominic. Her best friend often had good ideas when Ashlyn couldn't see the forest for the trees. And at that moment, Ashlyn felt exactly like that. She then decided to write Dominic a WhatsApp message. Less than two minutes later, her cell phone rang.

"Hey, Ash," Dominic greeted her and seemed in high spirits. 'How are you?"

"Thanks for calling back so late,' the lawyer replied. 'To be honest, so-so,' she continued, telling Dominic about the evening at Micaela Barboza's.

"Wow," Dominic said simply before starting to laugh.

Ashlyn joined in after a few seconds but then shook her head.

"As for the Tim Garner thing," she heard him say at the other end of the line, "don't worry about it. We'll take care of it. By the way, I didn't tell you that I picked him up the day before yesterday at Beth Israel, as arranged, and then drove him to Maggie's friend. A real character. Carl Holland lives on the border with New York State, isolated on an old farm. Man, Ash, he's really hardcore. Looks like a marine. Short, gray hair and upper arms that barely fit into shirt sleeves. Very clichéd."

Ashlyn pricked up her ears. She hadn't thought about that anymore. "And Garner, how did he handle it?"

"Well, it was pretty sobering, to be honest. Sat silently next to me the whole way. Couldn't get a word out of him. Strange guy. But maybe not surprising, given his past and everything that's happened to him lately."

"And then?" Ashlyn followed up.

"Well, I delivered him. To Holland. We exchanged cell phone numbers before I went back to Boston."

"And no one followed you?"

"Ashlyn, give me a break. Have you forgotten where I was trained? Of course not."

Ashlyn thought for a moment. So Garner was safe for the time being. But they had yet to make any progress in her case. "And what are we going to do about our investigation?" she asked.

But before Dominic could answer, Ashlyn heard someone shouting in the background. Even though she didn't understand what it was.

"Hey, I think I'd better end this now. Let's see tomorrow. It won't happen today anyway. But don't worry, I already have a few ideas. Let's meet for breakfast, and then we'll discuss everything, okay?"

"Okay, all right," Ashlyn replied, realizing that tiredness was slowly creeping up. Besides, she was reconciled with herself and the world again. It did her good to see that Dominic was much more optimistic about the matter than she was. After they had said goodbye and agreed on a meeting place for the next day, Ashlyn looked at the half-full glass of wine in her hand. Then she tipped it down the drain. She had had enough for today and needed a clear head tomorrow.