“I feel certain she would have, yes. But she did not.”

“By the way, how much money had the carnival taken in?” he asked.

“Almost three thousand dollars between Friday and Sunday night.” She smiled. “Most we ever made. It was a rousing success. We had raffles and carnival rides and concessions going practically nonstop for three days. Everyone was so pleased. We’d planned on using the money for a community center. We did eventually build it, but it was a few more years before we could afford to.”

“Did Shannon know the money was in the drawer?”

“I believe she may have been with me when I placed it in there.” Mrs. Randall stared at Andrew for a long moment. “Agent Shields, are you implying that my granddaughter was a thief?”

“I think we have to consider that she might have taken the money. In retrospect-”

“ Shannon was not a thief, Agent Shields. She would not have stolen from her church.” The old woman’s gaze could have turned him to stone on the spot.

“Mrs. Randall, I think in light of what’s happened over the past week, we need to consider-”

“I believe our little chat is over, Agent Shields.” Mrs. Randall raised her chin and called out, “Dorothea? You may show Agents Shields and Collins to the door, please.”

“Mrs. Randall…”

The old woman turned her face to the window.

“My apologies, Mrs. Randall,” Andrew said softly.

“Thank you for your time, Mrs. Randall,” Dorsey added.

Still looking out the window, Mrs. Randall waved a hand dismissively.

“Twenty-five minutes on the nose,” Dorsey calculated the time after Dorothea had closed the front door behind them. “Who’d have thought it would have taken so long?”

“And I’d been doing so well up to that point.”

“Well, never let it be said I’m a sore loser. Looks like dinner’s on me.”

11

“So, shall we compare notes?” Andrew rested his forearms on the edge of the table in the small restaurant where he and Dorsey had stopped for dinner.

“First things first. I’m famished. Do you remember what time it was when we last ate? I can’t, and I can’t think until I eat.” Dorsey read from the menu, “Barbecued ribs, barbecued chicken, barbecued pork. Slaw. Hush puppies. Okay.” She folded the paper menu over and slapped it onto the tabletop. “One of each, please.”

“I’d pay to see you eat all that.” He laughed.

“You might want to think twice about that.” She grinned. “I’m ravenous.”

She signaled the waitress, who looked like a high-school girl on her first job.

“Are you ready to order?” The girl, whose red-and-white name tag identified her as Jessie, appeared immediately when summoned.

“I’ll have the chicken barbecue with all the fixings,” Dorsey told her. “And a diet Pepsi, please.”

The girl began to write down the order, then looked up and asked, “Did you want the small, medium or-”

“Large,” Dorsey nodded. “Definitely large everything.”

“Okay.” She scribbled and turned to Andrew.

“I’ll have the same. Iced tea, though.”

“I’ll be right back with your drinks,” Jessie told them.

“Doesn’t it seem that no matter where you go, the summer help gets younger every year?” Andrew asked.

“They do get younger every year. Because we get older. The older you get, the younger sixteen or seventeen looks.” Dorsey smiled at Jessie who returned with their drinks.

“I’ll have your dinners in just a few minutes,” the young waitress told them.

“Just another thing Shannon didn’t get to do,” Dorsey observed after Jessie had walked away.

“What’s that?” Andrew asked.

“Get that all-important first summer job as a waitress.”

“Was that your first summer job?”

“Yes, but I didn’t last very long.” She chuckled, remembering. “I lasted ten whole days. Only job I ever got fired from.”

“Dropped a lot of meals, did we?”

“Dropped things, got orders mixed up, spilled things on customers.” She leaned her elbow on the table, and rested her chin in the palm of her hand. “I learned at the tender age of sixteen that I was not good at waiting on other people. Which limited my future career choices.”

“When did you decide you wanted to get into law enforcement?” he asked.

“Ironically, when my dad ‘solved’ this case.” She smiled ruefully. “Watching him then, seeing how he was so focused on this girl, how dedicated he was. How important it all seemed back then, finding the killer. Finding the truth.”

“Those things are still important,” he said. “They always will be.”

She eased a long lock of hair behind her ear. “I guess.”

“No, not you guess. You know.” He looked almost as if he was about to scold her, then thought better of it. Instead, he said, “You know how important it is to find the truth. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here.”

“I do know,” she admitted. “But what about you? When did you decide you wanted to be a special agent for the FBI?”

“I don’t remember ever deciding.” Andrew shrugged. “It was just always assumed.”

“Because of your family.”

He nodded. “You know that my dad and my uncle were both agents. Then my cousin Connor joined…”

“Connor. International man of mystery.”

He laughed. “You know him, then.”

“No, actually, I’ve never met him. But he’s sort of a legend, you know. The man who always seems to move through the shadows. People talk about him in hushed voices,” she wiggled her eyebrows, “but you never really meet anyone who’s met him, so you wonder if he’s real, or a fictional character someone at the Bureau invented to lend a bit of mystery to the job.”

“Oh, he’s real enough.” Andrew laughed again. “And as for what he does, or where he goes, no one seems to know except John Mancini and the director. And I’m not sure John always knows, to tell you the truth. Connor just sort of appears and disappears.”

“There was a woman in my class at Quantico who said she went out with him a few times, but no one believed her.”

“Oh, she could have. He’s been known to play the field. And he has spent some time teaching covert skills at the academy.”

“Covert skills,” she repeated with a grin. “That sounds so dangerous. Makes those classes on investigative techniques seem so mundane.”

“Yeah, well, Connor’s a hard act to follow. It’s all that tall, dark, and handsome stuff, combined with that air of mystery and touch of danger.”

“You left out sexy. I’ve heard he’s really sexy.”

“Gets the girls every time. Like I said, he’s been known to play the field.”

Dorsey looked across the table. Was he not aware he could as easily be describing himself? Without the dangerous element, of course. Andrew didn’t seem to Dorsey to exude danger in the way Connor was reputed to.

“I don’t think he’s ever had his heart broken, or been the one left holding the bag when a relationship ended. I don’t even know that he’s ever been in a long-term relationship, come to think of it.” Andrew rubbed his chin. “He’s always been a bit of a loner. Dylan always used to say he wanted to be around when Connor finally fell for someone, because it was bound to be headfirst.”

Andrew paused. “Of course, Dylan won’t be around when that happens.”

“But I’m thinking the rest of you will probably enjoy watching him take a header.”

“Without question.” Andrew nodded. “I can’t remember ever seeing him with the same woman more than once or twice. God only knows what it is he’s looking for.”

The waitress appeared at the table with a large tray and proceeded to serve their meals.

“So did you join the Bureau because you felt you were expected to, or because you wanted to?” Dorsey asked after Jessie had moved on.

“Both. I felt I had to-everyone else in the family already had, or was planning on it-but I also wanted to. It was exciting as well as ordinary, if you know what I mean. I’d seen the excitement firsthand, with my dad, and later with my older brother and cousins-Connor’s brother, Dylan, was older as well, and he’d joined right out of college. There always seemed to be something going on. But I saw the other side of it, too. The days on end when my dad would be gone working a big case, as well as the days when it almost seemed to be a nine-to-five job.”