“What? Don’t they deserve to know that my relationship with their sister was a job? I don’t see the reason to hurt them like that. They’re good people.”

“Maybe you’re right. Besides, they’ve moved away. It’s not like you have to see them as regularly as you did when they lived here.”

“Harry?” she asked shyly. “Can I ask you something?”

He could tell by her voice that it was something he didn’t want to be asked. “Go ahead, but if it’s about the job, I can’t promise that I can answer.”

“I don’t know if it’s the job or not. It’s about us.” When Harry didn’t respond, she went on. “Is there something you’re not telling me about Claire? You said she’s ill. I thought she was probably in jail. I figured with all of Anthony’s money, they’re keeping it covered up. I know Amber was pissed that she couldn’t find where he was charged with Simon’s death. I thought you were working on that—” Harry started to speak, but Liz went on. “—wait, I want to say this. I don’t even care anymore about you proving anything about Simon. I miss him, but I think Amber just needs to move on. I want to know if you really have. That’s my question.”

His brows knitted together. “What’s your question?”

“Have you really moved on? Do you not want the Vandersols to know that Claire was your assignment, because in reality she was more? Remember, I saw that picture of you two holding hands in Venice. Did you visit her in Iowa?”

“I went to Iowa with SAC Williams. I saw the Vandersols and spoke with them as friends, but I was there on behalf of the FBI. There’s another case related to Rawlings coming up soon. I will probably go back there again. Claire’s been gone from here for over a year. I’m getting sick of having her constantly thrown in my face. You and Amber are the ones who keep bringing her up, not me.” Harry’s words flowed, but he’d said them before, or some version of them. His mind zeroed in on the picture. Liz had mentioned it a long time ago, but it had never registered like it did now.

“Methinks he doth protest too much!”

She stood to walk away when Harry grabbed her arm. “Tell me again who showed you that picture.”

Pulling her arm away, Liz replied, “Hey, I’m not some criminal under interrogation! I told you before—Amber showed it to me. She knows what it’s like to have your boyfriend obsessed with someone else. After what happened, she didn’t want me setting myself up for another disappointment.” Her blue eyes pierced. “Is that what I’ve done, Harry? Are you just playing me? Rawlings is in prison. Maybe now is the time to make your move!”

He saw her anger, the way her cheeks flushed, and the tone of her voice, but his reaction was off. He wasn’t Harry Baldwin, boyfriend. He was Harrison Baldwin, FBI agent. “You’re overreacting. I have no intentions of making a move on Claire. She told me off the last time I spoke to her—and for the record that was in Venice. I told her I was FBI. She was pissed off.”

Tears coated Liz’s cheeks. “Y-you told her?”

“Yes, I told her the truth and she hates me.”

“W-why didn’t you ever tell me?”

Harry reached for her hand. After a moment of hesitation, she surrendered it to his tender grasp. “Because it is my job. I wasn’t in Venice to pursue a relationship with her. You and I were back together. I don’t want to fuck this up, again. I was there to protect her. I can’t tell you any more, other than that she told me to get lost.”

“So this is real. I don’t have to be afraid that you’ll go back to her? Wait…” She pulled back and looked into his eyes. “…why were you holding her hand?”

“It was a set-up. She didn’t know about the FBI, yet. I needed that picture to show Rawlings. I really shouldn’t be talking about this. Besides, it all blew up in my face.”

Liz wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “But you spoke with the Vandersols. They’ve been living here. They really don’t know the truth about you?”

Harry shook his head.

Liz continued, “I’m surprised. I mean, if I were going to move across the country to some remote place for my family, I’d expect that family to be honest with me. Why hasn’t Claire told them about you? I mean, who knows you like your family?”

Harry had heard that before. He replied, “I think their family has had a lot going on. I’m confident that the Vandersols are still in the dark.”

Sitting with his empty cup of coffee, Harry lifted his phone as Liz’s question reverberated through his mind. Who knows you like your family?

He accessed his contacts and called the one man who may be able to put his mind at ease. SAC Williams answered on the second ring. “Yes, Agent? What can I help you with?”

“Sir, can I speak to you, in person?”

“Can this wait until Monday?”

Harry closed his eyes and shook his head. SAC Williams couldn’t see his anguish, but Harry knew it was evident. “I really need to speak to you today.”

“All right, son, I can be at the office in an hour.”

“Thank you. I’ll see you then.” Harry hung up the phone and stared at the empty cup. In the middle of the café filled with people, he prayed: Please God, let me be wrong.

The FBI didn’t stop for weekends, yet depending on the caseload and schedule, many agents had the luxury of the occasional weekend off. Therefore, the San Francisco field office wasn’t as busy as it was during the week. Harry made his way to SAC Williams’ office. One rap on the door and he heard Williams’ voice.