Carter met his gaze and nodded. Once.
The man gathered his papers, tapped them square on the table, and stood. The woman and the second suit followed. At the threshold, the man turned back.
"Good luck," he said.
The door closed. The guard shifted in the corner. The slats of sunlight moved an inch across the table and the room was quiet again.
Noah foundthe file room in the basement of the State Police Department exactly as he'd left it six weeks ago. Dusty, overcrowded, and organized by a system that made sense to whoever had designed it in 1997 and no one since. He pulled the metal drawer labeled E-F and started working through the tabs, looking for anything connected to Ellison.
He'd been at it for about ten minutes when the door opened behind him.
"I was told you were here."
Savannah Legacy stood in the doorway with her arms crossed and an expression that fell somewhere between concerned and annoyed, which was where most of her expressions lived. She was in her fifties, sharp-featured, and had been BCI Lieutenant at State Police Troop B in Ray Brook for the past several years. She was Noah's boss. She was also one of his closest friends, which made her very good at the first job and occasionally terrible at the second.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"Five years ago. The Kara Ellison case." He didn't look up from the drawer. "I can't find the file. Who headed up the investigation from State?"
"They didn't. It was handled by Adirondack County Sheriff's Office and High Peaks Police Department." She paused and stepped into the room. "Noah, you are on mental health leave. You are not meant to be here."
She reached past him and pushed the metal drawer closed. The sound rang off the concrete walls.
"I know. I was just..."
She stared at him. Not angry. Patient in the way that people who had known him for years were patient, which was to say running low on it.
"You know me," he said.
"All too well." Her expression softened. "How are you doing, anyway?"
They hadn't spoken in a few weeks. Not since he'd filed the leave paperwork and walked out of the building with a box of personal items and the feeling that he was making either the best or worst decision of his career.
"Better," he said.
"You look it. Let's keep it that way."
He nodded and they walked out together, through the corridor and toward the main entrance. The building smelledthe way it always did, coffee and floor wax and the faint chemical smell of the evidence processing room down the hall.
"How's Cora?" he asked.
Savannah's partner had been battling cancer for the better part of a year. Rounds of chemo, specialists, bills that no salary could cover.
"Still in the fight. Doing better with the medical help."
"I forgot to ask. Who stepped in with the expenses?"
"An old friend."
"Quite the friend."
Savannah smiled, a smile that closed a door rather than opened one. "Say hello to Mia and Ethan for me," she said, and turned down the hall toward her office.
Noah stood in the lobby for a moment, watching her go. Then he pushed through the front entrance and walked to the Bronco in the lot.
Ray's housewas a two-story brick home on a quiet street in High Peaks, set back from the road behind a row of mature oaks that threw shade across the front lawn in the summer. Noah pulled the Bronco to the curb and sat for a moment, looking at the house. Ray's truck was in the driveway. A second vehicle, a white Honda, was parked behind it. Tanya's.
He walked up the front path and knocked. The door opened and Tanya stood on the other side, barefoot, in jeans and a sweatshirt, looking like she'd been there all morning.
