Sam looked at Susan. "You didn't tell him? About the Savage River?"

Fletcher straightened. "Where the sand came from? What about it?"

Susan shook her head. "No. We haven't talked. I...I'm sorry, Detective. It slipped my mind. Xander lives somewhere near the Savage River."

The detective's face tightened. "Where, exactly?"

"I don't know. We used to go up to the park to camp, and Eddie would go off and meet Xander somewhere to have coffee and talk. He never invited us along, said it was man time. So I've never met him, only seen the pictures."

Susan saw Sam staring at her again. "What, Sam? What is it?"

"The nicknames. All the men in the picture went by nicknames, right?" Sam asked.

Fletcher perked up, too.

"Yes, they did. Nothing unusual there. Why?"

"'BS.' Remember? The little doodle in Eddie's calendar that I thought looked like a cross? Didn't you say William Everett was called Billy Shakes?"

Susan nodded. "Yes. But if he committed suicide, and Eddie knew about it, wouldn't he tell me that one of his good friends had died?"

Fletcher pa.s.sed his hands over his face as if scrubbing away his frustration. "That's one h.e.l.luva good question, Mrs. Donovan. Can you ladies clue me in to what you're talking about?"

"I'll show you," Susan said. The journals and Eddie's nearly empty day runner were sitting on the kitchen table. She retrieved them and pointed out the spot on the calendar, then showed him Eddie's journal.

"I see," Fletcher said. "That's very interesting. Was William Everett in touch with your husband?"

Susan shook head. "Not that I know of. But, Detective, he was a grown man. He didn't tell me about everything. Certainly not about who called him on any given day, unless it related to the family."

"Well, in a way, he did," Sam said. "The journal. May I see it again?"

Susan handed it to Sam, who flipped back to the corresponding date. "I think I figured out what I was overlooking... ."

The detective was obviously lost. Susan explained it to him quickly. "My husband keeps a journal, but it's in Latin. Sam has been translating. So far she hasn't found anything relevant to the case."

Sam shook her head. "Until now. Look. Last Tuesday has a notation that's out of the ordinary. Remember I told you Eddie had slipped in words that looked out of place? I realized earlier today that they're memories. It's his own brand of shorthand. And using the nicknames as a guide..." Her eyes skimmed the page, and even Susan felt her eagerness.

"Here it is. He's crushed by the news of a close friend's death. He's talking about them. About the day the five of them met. They were all in the same unit on his last tour. He was confident they'd work well together. When I first read it I thought it said that he was shaky about remembering the details, but I misinterpreted. He's talking about his memories of Shakes, and how much Billy Shakes's death upset him. And the section starts with 'Mutant in touch.'"

"Mutant in touch?" Fletcher asked.

"That was Xander's nickname," Susan replied.

"Yes, I know. And he lives somewhere near the Savage River?" Fletcher asked.

"Yes," Susan answered. "But there's no way he'd be involved in this."

Fletcher's eyes grew bright. "I need everything you know about this man, Mrs. Donovan. Everything. I'm afraid he's our last viable option."

"Option for what?" Susan asked.

"Mrs. Donovan, sometimes logic trumps everything else in a murder case. It's becoming rather clear that Alexander Whitfield is involved in your husband's death."

"There's no way. Xander is a good man. The way Eddie talked about him... No. I can't believe that."

Susan hated this. Jesus G.o.d, she hated this. All of Eddie's friends dead, and the one left was the one Eddie had the utmost respect for.

"Mrs. Donovan, I'm sorry. I'm not accusing him of anything, not yet. I just need to know what his connection is to the past few weeks of your husband's life. So if you'll indulge me, I'd like to start at the beginning. Let's go over it all again. Tell me about that phone call he received, the one that came on the day he was murdered."

Susan thought back, as painful as it was. Admitting to Sam that she'd been upset with Donovan, that their last words had been slung in anger, made her feel better temporarily, but the guilt was crawling back in. Having to share this with the detective, and Eddie's mother, was making it even worse.

"I thought it was work calling. He answered, said, 'Now?' then hung up and said he had to go."

"Who from work? Did he say? The last call to his cell was from a blocked number. Everyone I talked to at the Raptor offices said they hadn't been in touch. They all check out-no call was made to your husband's phone from their offices. So why did you think it was work related?"

"I don't know. He didn't say. I...I was upset with him, asked him to blow it off, and he just shut down. He did that sometimes. Especially when we talked about work. Just got cold and turned off. "

"So the call could have been from anyone. You just a.s.sumed it was from work."

"Yes, but...I'm so confused. He was killed near his office, right? Where else would he have been going?"

"These are all valid questions, Mrs. Donovan, and I'm doing my best to find out the answers. Did your husband like his job?"

"I think so. He seemed to. I wanted him to quit, but I already told you that."

"Tell me again," Fletcher said.

Susan leaned against the granite counter. She wasn't terribly proud of how she felt, but she was trying to do what was best for her family.

"He'd done his time. Three tours. And he was finally out. But then he went to work for Raptor, with a bunch of his ex-Army buddies. I felt like Raptor was too close to the military, and I wanted him all the way out. But working there, that kept his hand in the game. They send contractors over to the war zones to manage transitional training for the Iraqi and Afghan governments. Even if the war was over tomorrow and all the troops came home, Raptor's operators would still be there to help train people, rebuild the infrastructure, all of that."

"But he didn't travel overseas."

"Not to the Middle East, no. Eddie was responsible for security for the people who came over here. Allan Culpepper kept him jumping all the time. He's the heart of Raptor. That's who I'd a.s.sumed called. It would take a lot for Eddie to be pulled away. He'd promised us the afternoon. It had been arranged for weeks."

"I spoke with Allan Culpepper. He thought the world of your husband." Fletcher was getting a little red in the face, frustration setting in.

"I know. He came by as soon as he got back from Iraq. He's crushed. He's the man who brought Eddie into Raptor in the first place. He doesn't work for him directly, his boss is Rod Deter. But Allan's been his mentor for a while. They were together in Afghanistan."

Susan felt the wheels spinning in her head as something clicked. "They all served with Allan. Xander, William, Hal, King-Perry Fisher-and Eddie. He was their commander. He took care of them."

Fletcher was taking notes, and Susan shook her head. "I'm sorry I didn't mention this before. Does this help?"

Fletcher looked eager to be away. "I don't know yet, Mrs. Donovan. But I've got a few more places to look, thanks to you. Just one more thing. Did he say he had to go to work? Or that he had to meet someone? Be as specific as you can."

Susan thought about it, mind tuned to that morning. "Honestly, he didn't say. He got the call, and I just a.s.sumed they'd called him in. He wasn't specific."

"Are you sure the phone he answered was his regular phone? What did it look like?"

That brought her up short.

"A separate phone?"

"I'm just trying to look at all the angles. The last call to his BlackBerry was a blocked number, but if he had another phone... I've been doing this a long time, and this pops up more often than you'd think. We've interviewed a lot of people, all who worked directly and indirectly with your husband. They swear up and down they didn't call. He could have had a separate phone that we're missing, and the call that caused him to leave came in on that cell. If that's the case, we need to be looking for another."

She thought back. She hadn't looked at the phone. She'd just a.s.sumed it was his BlackBerry. They'd all been a.s.suming.

"Honestly, no. I think it was his regular phone. Eddie wasn't the secretive type. And I've been going through the bills with a fine-tooth comb. I haven't seen money going anywhere unusual."

Fletcher looked disappointed.

"We didn't see anything unusual in your financials, either. Well, it was worth a shot. Thank you for your time. I, uh, my partner and I will be at the funeral tomorrow. We know it's going to be a hard day."

"You don't have to do that."

"We want to."

"I appreciate it," Susan said.

He stood and shook hands all around. "If you think of anything else," he said.

Eleanor gave him a tremulous smile. Susan felt horrible for her-she'd lost her only son, and sometimes Susan's own grief got in the way of remembering that.

"Of course. We'll be in touch immediately. Eleanor, I'll see the detective out. You stay here."

Eleanor didn't move, and out of the corner of her eye, Susan saw Sam touch the woman's hand.

Three women, all tied together through one man. All widows. All torn apart like ragged dolls by their loss. Susan just hoped, between the three of them, they could pick up all the pieces again. She shut the door behind the detective and went back to the kitchen.

Sam looked up at her.

"You know why they're coming to the funeral, don't you?"

"To pay their respects."

"To try and catch Xander. They think he'll show. Fletcher thinks he's the killer."

Susan was tired. So tired. She didn't want to think about this anymore. She just wanted a few moments alone to think about Eddie before she had to say goodbye forever.

Chapter Thirty-Three.

Georgetown

Detective Darren Fletcher

Fletcher sat in the car for a moment and processed the conversation he'd just had with Susan Donovan. What stood out to him was her very innocuous statement that Allan Culpepper had been Donovan's commander. That he'd commanded all of the men in the picture. Why hadn't Culpepper bothered to mention that before? Or even Rod Deter? And why wasn't it in the DOD files Felicia had procured for him? It was a big piece of information to leave out of the conversation, and pushed Culpepper right onto Fletcher's list of possible suspects, despite the proven fact that the man was in Iraq during the murders. Paperwork could be faked, altered, falsified. And the people at Raptor had the technological know-how to do just that.

Fletcher had to locate Alexander Whitfield. Whitfield was involved, no question. And now that he knew Whitfield knew Culpepper, the possibilities were endless. He pulled out the card Culpepper had given him and rang the man.

Culpepper answered almost immediately.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Colonel. But something's come up. Do you know a man named Alexander Whitfield?"

"Yes, of course. Great soldier. Very capable. Good friends with Donovan, as I recall."

"Have you seen him lately?"

"No. It's been years. Heard he went out in the woods somewhere, and didn't come back. Sometimes war does that to a man. The regular world doesn't make sense anymore... ."

"Is there any reason he might hold a grudge against Raptor? Or against you?"

Culpepper was quiet for a moment. "Not that I know of. But anything's possible. Are you saying...? Do you think he's responsible? Could I be in danger?"

"Like you said, anything's possible. I know you're leaving the country tomorrow, but I'd be extra careful with my security if I were you."

"Understood."

"Good. One last question. Could Donovan have had a separate phone that was issued to him through Raptor, outside of his BlackBerry?"

"Not issued through Raptor, no. We give them the BlackBerry, and a laptop, it's all paid for, but that's it. Now, our overseas operators have satellite phones, and if he were ever traveling outside the U.S., he'd be issued one. But he hasn't been traveling outside our borders lately. We keep the electronics on a tight leash, as you can imagine. The Pentagon would be p.i.s.sed if we let something like that slide."

They shared a strained laugh. "I can imagine. Okay. There is one last thing."

"Anything, son."

Son. Disarming. Personal.

"You didn't mention that you'd commanded Donovan overseas."

There was a beat pause. "I thought you knew that already. It's not a secret."

"I see. And the rest of the men from the unit? They were all your soldiers, correct?"

"My soldiers. Yes, they were. We were like a family-and even though many of us had gone our separate ways, they all feel like sons to me. So you can imagine how upset I am at their senseless loss. Will that be all, Detective?"