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plain facade had none of the Southern charm Madison associated with the rest of Savannah’s historic district, which was probably why the FBI had tucked it away, a block off Reynolds Square—so no one would notice it and complain.
    â€œAfter you, Sleepy, or should I call you Grumpy?” He held open the front door.
    â€œHow about I call you Dopey and we call it even?”
    He laughed as she trudged past him into the tiny entryway that didn’t even boast a receptionist.
    She couldn’t help it if she wasn’t cheerful Snow White today. Being handcuffed, kidnapped, held prisoner by a cover model, and then hauled to the FBI building on just a few hours sleep did not make her want to burst into song and play with bluebirds.
    â€œYou can’t ignore me forever.” He slid an ID card into an electronic reader on a metal gate. It beeped and clicked open.
    â€œI’m not ignoring you.” She stepped through the gate. “I just don’t have anything to say.”
    He looked suspiciously close to grinning again as he led her down the hallway to an elevator. She crossed her arms after they stepped inside, daring him to smile at her.
    â€œAre you never going to forgive me?” He punched the button for the second floor.
    â€œYou left me with your fiancée and told her to shoot me if I tried anything.”
    His lips twitched. “She told you I said that?”
    â€œThat’s the way I took it.”
    He laughed. “I’m sure she was only teasing.” His grin faded and his face turned serious. “As for her being my fiancée, I’ve been trying to tell you—”
    She held up her hand to stop him. “And I already told you this morning that I don’t want to discuss her. Your personal life is no longer my business. You don’t owe me any explanations.”
    He gave her an odd look, but before she could figure out what that look meant, the elevator door slid open. A man in a dark gray business suit was leaning against the far wall, apparently waiting for them. He straightened and held out his hand. “Mrs. McKinley, I’m Special Agent Casey Matthews. Thank you for coming.”
    She shook his hand without enthusiasm. “I’m only here because Pierce would have ruined my brother’s honeymoon if I didn’t agree to talk to you. This is a total waste of time.”
    His eyes widened, and he glanced at Pierce.
    â€œShe’s actually a marshmallow inside once you get past the prickly spikes.”
    Casey let out a bark of laughter, but sobered when Madison glared at him.
    â€œI apologize for the inconvenience,” he said. “I’ll try to make this as painless as possible.”
    He led them down an interior hallway lit by harsh overhead lights, into an expansive room full of low-walled cubicles. The two dozen or so men and women sitting in front of computer monitors watched them with open curiosity. Madison got the impression they didn’t get civilian visitors very often.
    Casey took them to his office in the back corner, one of the few offices in the open room with real walls and a door. The computer on the wood laminate desk looked expensive and new, but the two cheap vinyl chairs in front of it were the typical, low-budget government variety. The tiny table that separated the chairs was only big enough to hold a couple of file folders.
    Or maybe a cup of coffee.
    â€œI don’t suppose there’s some coffee around here somewhere?” Madison asked. “The FBI guys on TV always have coffee.”
    Pierce sat down in one of the vinyl chairs. “I’ll get you some after we leave.”
    Casey smiled. “No need to wait. I’ll be right back.”
    As the door closed, Madison edged over to the window and pretended interest in the street below, even though the only things she could see were the cars parked up and down the curb, and a couple of squirrels scurrying toward the