And of course one hug didn’t mean these two had been anything besides pals.

Except… Rob turned the photo back over studying Buck’s face. There was something in their expressions. A brave and tentative happiness?

Rob frowned, holding the photograph toward the light. Thirty years was a long time and Buck looked nothing like the boy he’d once been. He still wore his hair about the same length. Back then it had been darker and thicker. The face in the photo was rounder, softer. The body was surprisingly stocky. Muscular.

Someone tapped on the door frame. Rob looked up to see Adam standing in his office.

“Hey.” He dropped the photo, rose, and then wondered what he planned on doing. What he wanted to do was hug Adam, but Adam was…Adam. And they were not really on a hugging-in-the-workplace basis. Rob was unhappily conscious of that stupid argument on the way back from the Constantine place. What had he been so mad about? He’d even called Adam a robot.

Adam wasn’t a robot, and he looked worryingly tired, drained. Flattened. Like someone or something had leeched all the life and energy out of him.

“Are you…?” Rob was afraid to finish the question.

Adam gave a crooked smile. “No. I’m still employed.”

“Well, hell. Of course!” Rob said, as though they all hadn’t been thinking Adam’s head was on the chopping block.

“I think I may even have got a backhanded attaboy from Kennedy for putting the pieces together on Gaura.”

“No pun intended?”

Why had he said that? Why did he always have to make a dumbass joke? And it was worse with Adam. He was always playing the fool around Adam.

Adam looked startled, and then gave a weak laugh. “Anyway, Russell and I are flying back to L.A. tomorrow morning. So I wanted to say goodbye.”

“Goodbye?” Rob repeated, like he’d never heard the word before. Not like he hadn’t known it was coming. But it still felt like a shock, the horrible surprise of reaching into the dark and touching a live wire.

And Adam didn’t say anything. As though he didn’t know what to make of it either.

“So that’s it?” Rob said.

Adam drew a breath. “No. I also wanted to apologize again. I know I probably…did cross a couple of lines. I’m sorry if I seemed insensitive.”

“You were fine,” Rob said quickly. “I was just…I don’t know. Feeling out of sorts.”

Adam gave another of those halfhearted laughs. “Yeah, probably not. But BAU has offered their full help and resources to Frankie. Kennedy is a legend at the Bureau, the situation here has his interest, so you’re going to get serious support now.”

“Great.” Happy happy joy joy. More feds.  Only this time none of them would be Adam.

“So. Anyway.” Adam stuck out his hand as though he’d suddenly remembered that was part of the fare-thee-well ritual.

They shook. Rob was startled to realize Adam’s fingers were ice cold.

“Hey, wait a minute,” Rob said, still gripping Adam’s hand.

Adam waited, his expression almost wary.

“What about dinner?”

“What about it?”

“Are you stuck with them all night, or are you free for dinner?”

Adam freed his hand. “Dinner was not discussed,” he said, “I think it’s safe to assume we’re not all squeezing into the Marina Grill.”

“Good. Then have dinner with me. It’s your last night here, let’s spend it together.”

Adam’s expression lightened. Then his pleasure faded. “I’d have liked that, but I believe you’re working tonight,” he told Rob. “That’s the way it sounded to me.”

“I’ve got some things to finish up, yes,” Rob said, “but Frankie is betting the house on tomorrow’s show-and-tell session. If Kennedy thinks she’s paying us overtime to sit around and brainstorm cold cases, he’s in for a shock. Anyway, I’m whipped. My shift started at four thirty-five this morning. I’m having an early night.” He added boldly, “With you.”

Adam did that fluttery, disconcerting thing with his eyelashes before meeting Rob’s gaze directly. His smile was rueful. “If you think you can swing it, then yes. I’d like to have dinner.”

Rob smiled. “I can swing it. I’ll pick you up at the campground and we can spend the night at my place. What time’s your flight?”

Adam looked apologetic. “Eight.”

Rob wouldn’t have cared if it had been six. Or four. He felt cheerful again and full of optimism. “Don’t worry, I’ll have you back at the campground in plenty of time.” He was tempted to lean forward and kiss Adam. That was probably pushing things. He could tell Adam was still partially attuned to the sound of Kennedy and Gould speaking down the hall in Frankie’s office.

“I’ll see you at five,” Rob promised. “Don’t be late.”

“Er, you’re picking me up. Remember?”

“True.” Rob grinned. “It’s a date, Darling.”

At ten after four, Rob realized Bill Constantine had never shown up at the station or phoned. Knowing what he did now about Buck—or at least what he suspected he knew—he felt it all the more urgent that he talk to Bill.

For the last couple of hours he’d been reading over his notes on the case. Mostly he’d focused on Zeke’s possible role, because he found Frankie’s suspicions disturbing. But the more he looked over the homicide reports on Cynthia and Azure, the more positive he was that Frankie was off base.

Zeke was a jerk and probably what they used to call a chauvinistic pig, but Rob had never seen any indication that he was violent toward women. In fact, it was irritating the way his numerous ex-girlfriends continued to hang around in hopes of winning him back. The only girl who’d ever had the upper hand with him was Azure, and they’d been off and on for years. It was hard to believe that after all this time Zeke would suddenly go off the deep end and kill her.

There was certainly no motive for him to kill Cynthia Joseph, let alone in such a gruesome way. And the notion of a museum robbery gone wrong didn’t fit because Zeke wasn’t particularly hard up for money, and even if he had been, he’d have more likely sold one of his motorcycles, which was something he was always talking about doing.

Initially, Rob had been suspicious of the fact that Zeke had once worked at the museum. Until he’d realized that back then there would have been more tourists visiting Nearby, and Zeke would have viewed it as a good way to meet girls. Meeting girls would have always been—and continued to be—a priority for Zeke.

The one thing that niggled at Rob was the idea planted by Adam that maybe there had been more to Terry Watterson’s death. But he’d hunted up the old accident report on Terry Watterson, and there was no mystery about it. Watterson had jumped off the rock, hit his head, and unfortunately no one had realized he was in trouble until it was too late.

It might even be the reason Zeke didn’t drink. And considering how obnoxious he was cold sober, that was probably a good thing.

As for the idea of Zeke dressing up like a giant raven—or whatever the hell that costume was supposed to have been—no. Hell no. Zeke would consider that totally embarrassing. Never in a million years would Zeke dress up like Big Bird’s evil twin—and as creepy as that moment had been when Rob had looked up and seen that…thing looking down at him—that’s how Zeke would view it. Big Bird’s evil twin. He could practically hear him now. Zeke would think that was ludicrous.

So no. Frankie could host her naked chest soiree tomorrow. Zeke would not be falling into her net.

Whoever had done this possessed a completely different kind of brain.

And not just from Zeke. From pretty much everyone. This was a seriously disturbed individual, and there would have to be other signs. There would be a history. A pattern.

Which is why he had problems with Adam’s theory on Bert Berkle.

Berkle was another one he couldn’t picture dressing up in a feathered costume and skipping around the woods.