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his professional judgment. Rowan intrigued him, Tess could tell.
    She called John’s private line. “It’s Tess.”
    Pause. “What’s wrong?”
    “We have a new assignment, but I think we may be over our head on this one.” She told him about Rowan Smith, the murder, and the funeral wreath. “Michael asked me to do a background check.”
    “And?”
    “Nothing.”
    “So?”
    “Just that—nothing. It’s as if she was born eighteen years old and just started college.”
    “Maybe you’re not as good as you think,” he teased lightly.
    “John, I’m worried. That funeral wreath really freaked me out. I read about the murder of Doreen Rodriguez in the papers, then I read the chapter in her book. It’s identical.”
    “What did you find on her?”
    “She graduated from Georgetown twelve years ago and went directly into the FBI Academy. Graduated top of her class. She has several marksmanship awards, and I found a couple of newspaper articles where she had a hand in apprehending a criminal, but she’s never quoted. She resigned four years ago, about the same time her first book was published.”
    “Sounds like typical burnout. It happens.”
    “I’m getting to that. There’s a court document from more than twenty years ago. Name change.”
    “Oh?”
    “She was a minor. And it’s sealed.”
    “Okay, you’ve piqued my interest.”
    “I’m not done. She listed her address in Washington, D.C., so I did a search on property ownership. The house is in the name of Roger and Grace Collins.”
    “That name sounds familiar.”
    “Roger Collins is assistant director of the FBI. There’s something strange in that, don’t you think? That she had a name change as a minor and was living at the home of one of the FBI directors?” She paused. “What if she knows more about this killer than she’s letting on? Why would a kid need a name change? Witness protection?”
    “I can think of a lot of reasons, not all of them nefarious.”
    Tess ignored him. “And I can already tell Michael’s getting emotionally involved. I’m worried, John.” She felt bad about giving this information to John before she told Michael, but she knew John’s instincts were better. She’d tell Michael tomorrow.
    “I’m ready to wrap up down here. Give me two days.”
    Tess hung up, feeling better. While she trusted Michael, John had more experience dealing with federal law enforcement agencies. Michael tended to be too trusting, while John was the exact opposite—so distrustful that it sometimes bothered Tess. She’d never met anyone so driven, so focused on his job—whatever it happened to be—than her oldest brother.
    If anyone could get to the heart of the Rowan Smith case, it was John.
     
     
    John snapped closed his cell phone and pushed aside Tess’s worries. He had work to finish quickly if he was to get back up to California to help his brother. Though more confident in Michael’s ability than Tess was, he wondered about Smith and her background. He knew how deceptive the FBI could be, especially when they protected one of their own.
    He couldn’t give this operation any more time. He called his DEA contact with the longitude and latitude of the warehouse where over ten thousand kilos of pure heroin was stored. He’d hoped to track down the elusive Reginald Pomera, but not this time.
    He looked down and saw his clenched fists. He’d thought for sure this was the time he’d confront Pomera. He was so close. So close he could almost smell the bastard.
    He forced himself to relax, taking slow, drawn-out breaths. Reminded himself that his consulting assignments for the DEA were sporadic work, at best. His new career was the security business with Michael and Tess. He was no longer an agent, no longer in the employ of the government.
    Unless, of course, they needed his specialized skills in tracking down and hunting big-time drug lords like Pomera, he thought bitterly. Then he reminded himself that it had been his