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silent.
    “You know I’m referring to Cortavin?” Dools said.
    Jack nodded.
    “You got to be a dick to be an SAC.”
    Jack knew Dools was just blowing off steam.
    “Cortavin,” Dools continued, “thinks he’s the best thing that came to the Bureau since J. Edgar, himself.”
    “Don’t think much of him, do you?”
    Dools shook a finger at Cortavin’s photo. “From the words of Senator Lloyd Bentsen, ‘He’s no Jack Kennedy.’”
    That made Jack smile.
    “You speak to Emily lately?” Dools asked.
    The smile evaporated.
    “You tell her about that job offer?”
    Jack looked away.
    “You should.”
    His response was polite. “Back off.”
    Dools opened his mouth but stopped short, deciding it was best not to venture forward in this conversation. He gave Jack two pats on the back, turned and walked down the hall to the file room .
    Jack looked back at the telephone.
    Lots of messages.
    He took a deep breath and, with his notebook in hand, started cycling through a weekend’s worth of calls.
    “You have . . . ten . . . new messages and . . . twelve . . . old messages,” the automated system informed him.
    Jack didn’t wait for instructions, punching in the proper codes. He began logging those that were important and dumping the rest into the electronic trash can.
    One message caught his attention. “Jack, this is Ray Sizemore out of Seattle . I was told to call you specifically.” There was a pause and the sound of shuffling papers. “I’ve got an old homicide that goes back about fifteen years. I may have new information pointing at a suspect in your territory. Give me a call and let’s talk.”
    Jack cycled through the rest. Messages from defense counselors wanting time to cut a deal for their clients, news reporters wanting an interview. Jack jotted their numbers but already decided he had more important things to do. He came to the last message and a familiar voice.
    “Jack, Border Collins.”
    There was a long silence as if Collins was hoping Jack would pick up the line.
    “The Board met today. They’d like you to come in for a second interview.”
    Jack took a deep breath and held still.
    “They were thinking this Friday, around
ten o’clock
. Listen, Jack, I know leaving the Bureau is a tough choice to make. It was hard for me, too. But you’ll get use to it. I think you’re going to be a great addition to our staff. Give me a call.”
    The message stopped and Jack let the call soak in. He looked back over at The Investigator , pulled it closer and stared at his twenty-year photo. Too many years had passed unnoticed, and somewhere during that time, he’d lost what he’d wanted most. His home life. The twenty gave him an out. The ability to start a new career and maybe find a way back to Emily. The job offer made him anxious and nervous at the same time. Maybe Dools was right. Maybe he should tell Emily. Twenty years was a long time, maybe long enough to now make a change. He knew he had to do something. He just didn’t know what. Jack reached over and pressed a button on the keypad, hearing an automated response: “Message Saved.”
    Right now he needed coffee. Jack wandered to the kitchen, waited for a pot to brew, filled his office mug with what looked more like brown water and returned to his desk. He dialed Agent Sizemore, who he had heard good things about. The phone rang once before Sizemore answered. With a quick greeting, Jack opened up a fresh page in his notebook. “You said in your message you’re working on a cold case?”
    “An old one that’s been sitting on the shelf for a while. Let me tell you what I got.” Sizemore sucked in a breath, like this was going to take a while. Jack’s curiosity was piqued.
    “A little over fourteen years ago King County Sheriff’s responded to a suspicious activity report at an abandoned church in a town outside of Renton . Neighbors kept seeing a van coming and going. Thought it had to do with drugs. Every once in a while they