and Mr. Keller, tell me what you’ve found out.”
Marie took a deep breath. “You may not like it,” she said.
Healy smiled grimly. “Maybe,” she said. “But I like surprises even less. Especially when they happen to me in court.”
“Okay,” Marie said. She told Healy about her interviews with the day-care personnel. The lawyer listened without expression, asking a terse question here and there. Marie finished by saying, “I don’t know if Carly Fedder is the right person to have custody of Alyssa.”
Healy arched an eyebrow at her. “Oh?” she said. “And the better choice would be the absentee father that she barely knows? The one who barely showed an interest for the first five years of the girl’s life?” She held up her hand and stopped Marie’s answer. “We don’t get to make those choices, Marie. That’s why we have the folks in the black robes. All I do is present my client’s side. Something Dave Lundgren never gave my client…our client…a chance to do.” Marie must have still looked doubtful. Healy leaned forward, her eyes locked earnestly on Marie’s. “Think about it this way,” she said. “You used to be a cop. And a good one, from what I hear. Did you like it when people took the law into their own hands?”
“I didn’t,” Marie admitted.
Healy’s voice picked up intensity, as if she were building to the climax of a closing argument. “Well, that’s exactly what Sergeant David Lundgren did, Marie. He didn’t give the law a chance to work. He just grabbed that girl and took her away from the only home she ever knew. It may not have been perfect, but it was her home. And now she’s God knows where, with no way to know if she’s safe or not.”
“Wow,” Marie said. “You’re pretty good.”
Healy looked startled for a moment, then grinned.
“Sorry,” she said. “I get a little carried away.” She leaned back. “Anyway,” she said, “let’s move on. I had a message this morning that a couple of FBI agents dropped by, wanting to see me.”
“Did you talk to them?”
“Hell, no!” Healy said. “And you don’t, either. Anything I know is covered by attorney-client privilege. And since you work for me, so are you.”
“They’re looking for Jack…Mr. Keller, too,” Marie said. “And he thinks they’re watching my house.”
For the first time, Healy looked concerned. She chewed her lip thoughtfully. “Him…I don’t know. He’s not really officially an employee. I could argue that he’s covered by privilege, but it’s not a slam dunk.”
Marie smiled wryly. “It won’t make any difference to him if he’s covered or not. If he doesn’t want to talk, he won’t. And he’s not happy with the FBI right now.”
“Still,” Healy said, “I want to cover the bases here. We’ll put him on the payroll. Special consultant or something. Ask him to call me.”
“What about the client?” Marie said. “She wants us fired.”
“Don’t worry about Carly,” Healy said. “I’ll straighten it out. But it might be better to just let me deal with the client from now on.”
Marie stood up. “Thanks,” she said.
Healy stood up as well. “I’m not just being nice,” she said. “It’s better to have you two inside the wire rather than out.”
Marie pondered that. “Thanks anyway,” she said.
Healy shook her hand. “Don’t mention it.”
It wasn’t until she was on her way out the door that Marie realized she had talked herself back into remaining on the case. She laughed ruefully to herself. “Played again,” she muttered.
***
The Chinese restaurant Wilcox had picked out had a railroad theme, with the dining area divided into long, narrow rooms like dining cars. Booths ran down either side of the central aisle. The booths had high backs that blocked off sounds of conversation. “You having buffet?” the slender waitress said in heavily accented English as Keller slid into the booth.
“I’m waiting for someone,” Keller said. “Give me a few minutes.”
The waitress looked baffled for an instant, then smiled broadly. “Okay,” she chirped. “Something to drink?” It was obvious that she had exhausted her entire stock of English. Keller ordered a beer. The girl nodded and walked off.
Wilcox arrived at the same time as the beer. He was dressed in civilian clothes, a cheap off-the-rack suit that had seen better days. From his haggard, baggy-eyed look, so had Willcox.
“You having buffet?” the girl repeated. Wilcox nodded and ordered water.
“So,” Keller said after they had filled their plates. “The FBI. What’s the deal?”
Wilcox pushed some rice around on his plate. “It’s not just Lundgren,” he said. “There are two others missing.”
“All Deltas?” Keller asked.
Wilcox nodded glumly. “All from the same unit.”
“And all just back from Afghanistan,” Keller said.
Wilcox nodded again. “The two FBI agents—Gerritsen and Rankin—are from a Bureau task force. They’re working the terrorist angle.”
Keller shook his head. “That doesn’t make sense,” he said. “Terrorists would want to make an example. They wouldn’t disappear these guys. They’d blow them up.”
“That’s what I keep trying to tell them,” Wilcox said. “But anything that could even remotely be terrorist related has them all jumping at shadows. Now they’re even doing background checks on all three, seeing if maybe they might have crossed over.”
“What, you mean defected?” Keller snorted in derision. “Right. These guys are motivated. They’d cut their own nuts off before they’d join the other side.”
Wilcox’s jaw tightened. “I know that, and you know that,” he said. “But the Bureau doesn’t know that. And let’s be real. There’s a lot more corners here than you realize. Hell, they may have formed their own side.”
Keller considered that for a moment. Then he looked at Wilcox and spread his hands. “So why are we here?”
Wilcox took a deep breath. “We’re here to pool information,” he said. “Maybe something you know will fit with something I know that makes sense.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
Wilcox gave him a humorless smile. “Then we’ve both wasted our time, and if someone learns about this, my career is over, probably worse. The only consolation I have is that you’d probably end up in the same prison as me.”
“Got it,” Keller said. “I don’t like you; you don’t like me. But we have to work together. Eddie Murphy and Nick Nolte will end up playing us in the movie.”
“I’d rather be played by De Niro,” Wilcox said.
“With my luck, it’ll end up being Adam Sandler and Whoopi Goldberg,” Keller said. “But why are you really here?”
“There’s a child involved. I didn’t know that before. Neither the FBI nor the Special Ops types thought that was important enough to fill me in on. I happen to think that’s pretty damn important.”
“You have kids.”
“Yeah. Two.”
“Okay,” Keller said. “Fair enough.” He filled Wilcox in on what he and Marie had learned so far. Then he leaned back and took a sip of his drink. “Your turn.”
Wilcox hesitated, then took a deep breath. “The two other guys that disappeared