Agent-in-Charge. Leigh Riker

now. As an ex-operative, Holt would understand.

      “I hope you find what you’re lookin’ for, partner.”

      The term was more than a throwaway word. Holt Kincade had been on the twelve-member team with Graham when the original antiterrorism task force began. He and Graham and Tom Dallas.

      “So do I.”

      Graham wondered whether Holt meant the rest of the story, the possible killer or Casey herself.

      CASEY’S HEART pounded. All around her, horns blew. Five o’clock traffic rushed past. “We can do this,” she told herself and Willy.

      Graham, who had late meetings to attend, had dropped them off at the Guide Dog Institute on his way back to work, saying his colleague, Jackie Miles, would pick her up. She was not to leave until Jackie got there.

      Like the memory of Graham’s face and body, their earlier conversation still hummed in Casey’s mind. But she couldn’t afford second thoughts. Casey had been unable to sit home and do nothing—as Graham might prefer. This little trip had seemed harmless, even necessary at the time, in order to maintain her independence. Now they had to get home—their first solo trip—and Willy waited patiently beside her on the corner near the institute.

      Why hadn’t Jackie Miles kept her promise to meet Casey? She had waited in the reception office for over an hour. But still no Jackie. Weeks ago the woman had kindly spent time with Casey at the hospital whenever Graham couldn’t be there, sitting by her bed, chatting with Casey when she woke. Why hadn’t she shown up this time?