“I’ve finished the rough draft.” Roland was smiling, a private smile that Elliot didn’t trust. “There’s a lot of good stuff in there, if I do say so myself. One or two revelations are really going to stir a few people up.”

Elliot nodded, deciding it would be wiser to let that go.

For a few minutes neither spoke. Roland moved around the kitchen preparing the vegetables, heating water, preheating the oven. Elliot watched him and listened to the chimes in the backyard tinkling in the afternoon breeze. Sitting here like this brought back many comfortable and pleasant memories.

Feeling his father’s gaze, he glanced up and sure enough Roland was scrutinizing him with a tolerant affection that surprised him into speech.

“Dad?”

Roland smiled faintly. “Elliot?”

“I wanted to apologize. And explain. For the other night, I mean.”

“I see.”

Roland wasn’t giving anything away, but he seemed long past his anger.

Elliot took a deep breath. It had been a long time since he’d felt this…young. This in the wrong. It was not a feeling he liked.

“I don’t know why it matters—mattered—so much to me whether you had a relationship with Pauline Baker. I know it’s not my business. I do know that.”

Roland continued to study him in that thoughtful way. “It’s working in law enforcement for so long. You’re jaded. You expect the worst from people.”

“Come on, Dad.”

“I’m serious. It’s one reason I never wanted you to go into something like the FBI. It’s soul-killing.”

Not this again. Wasn’t it enough that Elliot was no longer with the Bureau? “Dad.”

Roland shrugged. “I know, I know. I’m not forgetting that I brought you into this tragic mess. I know what you’re like once you get something into your head, so I have only myself to blame.”

“That’s not exactly fair.”

“Yes, it is. Once you made up your mind to find out what happened to Terry, you committed to following every possible lead down every possible trail. I know you, son. It’s not a bad trait—not in the fuzz and not in a scholar—but I wasn’t happy to have you looking at me like a suspect.”

“Never.” Elliot was adamant. “Not for one second did I consider you a suspect.”

“Sure you did,” Roland said easily. “Oh, not a murder suspect, but you suspected me of betraying my best friend—and my wife. Your mother.”

Elliot couldn’t meet his father’s eyes. He heard rather than saw Roland’s sigh.

“Elliot. The fact is, I do care for Pauline. I’ve come to care about her a great deal over the years since your mother died. And if she wasn’t married to my oldest friend, maybe things would be different. But she is married to Tom, and things are what they are. Does that answer your question?”

“Yeah.” Elliot grimaced. “To be honest, we’re pretty sure now we’re dealing with a serial killer.”

“A serial killer?”

Elliot nodded.

“Then why isn’t that on the news?”

“Because it’s still not definite. There’ll be a formal press release as soon as it’s certain. Right now there’s behavioral evidence but not much in the way of forensic to support the theory.”

“People need to know about this. They need to be able to warn themselves.”

“I agree. Everyone involved agrees. But up until now the majority of victims appear to have been high risk. The kind of person who can disappear for a lot of reasons without anyone noticing or caring. Right this minute the various investigative agencies are trying to figure out their strategy. If the determination is made that this really is a serial murder series, it looks like the FBI will lead the task force.”

“And you’re having trouble with that?”

“No.” Elliot stared at him, startled. “Why do you say that?”

“It’s obvious.”

“It’s not true. I think the Bureau is the best agency to handle this.”

Roland nodded noncommittally. “Friday night. Where did you call me from?”

“From, er, Tucker’s place.”

“Tucker?”

“Tucker Lance. The agent…guy I was…uh…”

“I remember Tucker.” Right. Roland would have been one of the people enforcing Elliot’s wishes not to see Tucker. “So you’ve started seeing him again?”

“Yeah, but it’s not—”

Roland brushed this aside. “You obviously still have feelings for the cat. I’ve known that for a long time. What I’m getting at is, this is the first time you’re facing being on the outside of one of his cases. Am I right? A case that you were actively involved in.”

“Yeah.”

“So of course you’re having a problem with it. I’d be surprised if you weren’t.”

Elliot absorbed this. Reluctantly, he conceded, “Yeah. Okay. Maybe you’re right. It’s hard being on the outside looking in. That used to be my world.”

“You’ll work through it.”

“You sound pretty sure.”

“Sure I’m sure. Father knows best.” Roland reached out to ruffle Elliot’s hair with rough affection. “And don’t you forget it.”

It was a good evening and a relief to have things back to normal in this part of his life at least. When at last Elliot said goodnight and walked out to his car, he was still mulling over his father’s assertion that he was resentful of Tucker’s possible role in the upcoming investigation into Baker’s death and Lyle’s disappearance. He didn’t like sitting on the sidelines, that was true. He had always been a better driver than a passenger.

If he and Tucker were going to try and make some kind of relationship work, he was going to have to get used to his new role as innocent bystander. That was not going to be easy. On the other hand, he suspected that his feelings for Tucker ran deep enough that it was worth working through his issues.

In fact, he was taken aback by how much he missed Tucker. He’d spent most of Saturday at Tucker’s apartment, but it was only one day, after all, so why was he feeling like his other half was missing? When had he become so emotionally needy?

Or was it needy to admit that you liked being with someone?

The fact was, Elliot didn’t have enough experience at relationships to know. Before he’d been shot, his focus had been on building his career. No question he had been ambitious. The Bureau had fast-tracked him for promotion. After he’d resigned, his focus had been on putting his life back together. He was new at this romance thing.

“Oh what the hell,” he muttered, reaching for his cell phone.

Tucker picked up immediately. First ring. He must have been staring at his phone, willing it to ring.

“Hey, you.” The warm affection was not what Elliot was expecting. Once again he felt off balance.

He replied cautiously, “Hey.”

“Guess what? It’s confirmed. A multi-agency task force is being put together. The Bureau is taking point and I’m lead investigator. We’re going to get this sonofabitch.”

“That’s great,” Elliot said hollowly.

“I’ve got to drive into Tacoma this evening to meet with Detective Anderson. He’s co-investigator on this.”

Sunday night. They were moving fast. That was good. Elliot was glad, but he was still disappointed he wasn’t going to see Tucker tonight. He knew better than to ask. He’d been through one of these serial murder investigations early in his career, though not as lead investigator. Tucker was in for a grueling night as he and his team assessed and reassessed all the evidence collected so far. It would be Tucker’s job to put together a team of investigators and support personnel and assign them as the investigation dictated. He and Anderson would be responsible for all the crime scene activities including making sure that relevant information was distributed to the entire task force.

It was a promotion for Tucker—a big one—and as far as their relationship went, it couldn’t have come at a worse time. Tucker’s dance card was going to be filled for the foreseeable future.

And Elliot was a total shit to begrudge Tucker this opportunity merely because it meant they wouldn’t be seeing much of each other. He made himself say sturdily, “That’s good news.” Adding more naturally, “I feel safer already.”