“Where’s your nephew?” Fiona shielded her eyes from the afternoon sun.

“I don’t know.” Sam scanned the field. “He should be wearing a number in the eighties.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s a wide receiver, and that’s where their numbers are.”

“Why?”

“You sound just like Andrea’s three-year-old.” He draped an arm over her shoulder.

“I’m just curious why numbers are assigned like that.”

“So that you can look at the field and even if you don’t know the players, you know what positions are on the field and you have an idea of what kind of play might be called.”

Fiona shrugged. She supposed his explanation made about as much sense as anything else.

“Boy, I haven’t been back here in years.” Sam looked around with a sort of wonder on his face.

“Tommy said you played, too?”

“Yeah. My brother played but he broke his arm his sophomore year and he just wasn’t the same after that. I was lucky-I never had any serious injuries and I was recruited to play in college.” He smiled wistfully. “Man, we had some times here in this stadium. We played some football here.”

“I thought that was you.” A figure slipped into the empty space next to Sam.

“Hey, Drew!” Sam greeted an old friend. “I was just thinking about you. It’s good to see you.”

“Good to see you, too. How long’s it been?”

“Too long.” Sam turned to Fiona. “Fiona, this is Drew Novak. We went all through school together. Kindergarten through high school. Drew, this is Fiona Summers.”

Fiona smiled and took the hand Sam’s friend offered.

“What brings you back, man?” Drew asked.

“Just wanted to see the family.” Sam turned his attention to the field where the team was lining up for a play. “My nephew Tommy’s out there somewhere.”

“He’s number eighty-three,” Drew told him. “My son Jake is the quarterback. They hang out together a lot.”

A smile crossed Sam’s face. “Eighty-three is my old number.”

“I know. I told Tommy if it was available he should ask for it.”

“Nice of you to remember.”

“How could I ever forget?” Drew laughed. “Those were our glory days, pal.”

“You had your share of glory in college, as I recall.”

“It wasn’t the same. High school, now that mattered.” Drew glanced around the stands. “You, me, Steve, Vic, Blake-we mattered.”

“I know what you mean.” Sam nodded. “The five of us were together all those years.”

“Steve and Blake are around somewhere.” Drew scanned the crowded stands. “I saw them both earlier but I don’t know where they are now.”

“They’re still in the area?”

“Some of us never really left, Sam. You’re the only one who did.”

“Do you still see those guys? I mean, on a regular basis?” Sam asked.

“Pretty much. Some of us drifted back after college and settled down. Brought our brides with us from school or married someone from town. Me, I married Jessie Makefield. Remember her?”

“I sure do. Prettiest girl in the class two years behind us.”

“Yeah, Jessie’s still the same. We have three kids. Jake’s the oldest.” Drew patted Sam on the arm. “I heard about your wife. I’m real sorry. I should have called you but…”

“It’s okay, Drew.”

“Well, it’s nice that you’re seeing someone.” Drew nodded in Fiona’s direction. Sam could have corrected him, but didn’t. He merely smiled.

“How long are you home for?”

“Just a few days.”

“If you find yourself with some spare time, give me a call, okay? I’m in the book.”

“I’ll do that.”

“I better get back down there, gotta keep an eye on my boy. He’s going to ask me when he gets home how I thought his arm looked.”

“It’s looking damned good to me.”

“I’ll tell him you said so. You’re still a legend around here, you know.”

“Oh, Christ.” Sam grimaced, and Drew laughed.

“Good to meet you, Fiona,” Drew said as he went down the bleachers to the bottom row.

“A legend?” She smiled. “Sam DelVecchio, local legend?”

“It was all a long time ago.”

“Not in the minds of some.”

Sam turned to look around the crowd. Here and there he saw once familiar faces. Steve Molino, one of his best friends all through high school, was seated on the top row. Farther down and close to the middle sat Blake Carter, another old buddy. Down on the field stood Billy Finnegan. Finn hadn’t changed much at all, Sam mused. He wondered what he was doing with himself these days.

“You said Tommy was number eighty-three?” Fiona poked him in the ribs.

“Yes.”

“He’s on the field now.”

Sam stood with the rest of the crowd to watch, his arm around Fiona. The quarterback-Jake Novak, Drew’s son. Sam shook his head. It was almost surreal to him. His nephew, Drew’s son… probably the sons of other old friends out there, too, he thought. I’ll have to ask Tommy if he has a copy of the roster.

The crowd ooohed as the lofting pass sailed into Tommy’s hands and he sprinted down the field toward the end zone.

“The boy’s got some speed,” Sam noted.

“Is that family pride I hear in your voice?”

“Damn right. He’s going to be good.”

“As good as you?”

“Better.”

They watched the entire practice, and when it was over, applauded the effort along with everyone else.

On the way back to the car, Sam encountered a number of people he knew from his past. Several classmates, even some old teachers, caught up with him in the parking lot.

“I don’t know why I stayed away so long,” he said to Fiona when they were on their way back to Andrea’s. “It’s so good to see everyone again.”

“Well, it was good to see who’s still around,” she told him. “I think it will help in the long run to identify the killer.”

“Are you serious? You’re talking about people I’ve known all my life.”

“One of them is a killer, Sam.”

“Why does it have to be one of them? Why not someone else from around here?”

“Someone random?” She shook her head. “You know better than that. It’s someone you’ve known, someone you’ve been close enough to that he’d know things about you. Like your birthday. Like the day your wife was killed.”

Sam frowned. “How would someone from here know the exact date? The Bureau kept the story out of the news as a courtesy to me, and I know neither my brother nor my sister talked it up around town.”

“That’s a good question. Maybe we ought to think about that.”

“What are you saying? You think this guy… this guy we’re looking for killed Carly?” He looked at her as if she’d just sprouted a second head. “Are you crazy? We know who killed her, Fiona.”

“I’m just saying, maybe we should consider-”

“No. It isn’t possible.” Sam waited in line for his chance to pull out of the parking lot, his jaw set, his eyes avoiding hers. “Christ, you sound like Mancini.”

“Sam, like it or not, we’ve already agreed that someone from your past-my guess is someone you considered a good friend-has set this all up to bring you back here. You even agreed that it was someone-”

“That was before I came back and saw people again. You just met a couple of my best friends from growing up. Seeing them… I can’t believe that any of them could have killed anyone. I can’t think of one reason why any one of them would have cause to hate me so much.”

“Sam the legend. Sam the great football player. Sam the college star. Sam who got out of town and made it big as an FBI profiler.” She leaned back in the seat, her arms crossed over her chest. “Should I go on?”

“No. You’re wrong. It isn’t one of my friends.”

“I can’t believe you just said that,” she said quietly. “You of all people know better.”

They drove the rest of the way in silence.