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give Natalie a goodnight kiss.   Flynn couldn’t be more embarrassed over that fact. But it never stopped him from asking her out to dinner when he was in town.
    He dialed her number and listened to the rings. On the third ring, she picked up. She sounded glad to hear from him and hinted that she had no plans for dinner that evening. After quickly planning to meet up for dinner, Flynn told her the second reason for his call.
    “I also was wondering if you could authenticate a document for me,” Flynn said.
    “Oh, what kind of document?”
    “An FBI document from a polygraph test.”
    “Still trying to solve who was behind JFK’s assassination, are we?”
    “How did you know?”
    Natalie chuckled. “When it comes to asking me for favors, that’s the only subject that ever pops up with you. Are you ever going to give this up?”
    Flynn sighed. “You know my obsession all too well. And since it’s an obsession, I probably never will—at least until I find out who was behind it all.”
    “I’ll tell you what,” Natalie said. “I’ve got some free time this afternoon and I’ll be happy to take a look at it for you. Just bring it on down.”
    “Is a copy fine?”
    “If all you’ve got is a copy, why don’t you just email it to me?”
    “Are you crazy? My email connected to your government account with a top secret document leading to who was behind the JFK assassination? I don’t want you to be found floating in the Potomac River next week.”
    Natalie laughed. “How chivalrous of you. OK, fine. Bring it down on your phone or computer or whatever. We’ll look at it without linking my account to yours so I don’t end up as fish food.”
    Flynn was relieved. He knew more than a half-dozen reporters who died of strange circumstances when they began digging into JFK’s assassination. He wasn’t about to put Natalie—or himself—at risk. Not when something potentially as big as this found its way into his hands.
    ***
    STAYING DOWNTOWN WASHIINGTON at The Liaison, Flynn made the short one-mile walk to the National Archives. He didn’t sit down to eat lunch, instead grabbing a hot dog from a street vendor as he walked. Natalie consumed his thoughts, so much so that he passed on the onions, which was his favorite garnishment. He couldn’t wait to see her again, though he knew his stomach would knot up. He often wondered how anyone could have such a physiological effect on him. Pushing those thoughts aside, Flynn went over a few one-liners he heard in the movies that earned a laugh from the ladies in the audience. He picked one out that he liked before beginning to wonder if they were laughing because it was absurd or because they thought it was charming. Undecided, Flynn decided to ditch the charm and compliment her on her clothes or hair before jumping into business.
    Upon reaching the downtown branch of the National Archives, Flynn waited five minutes for the hourly shuttle that transported researchers to the archives branch in Annapolis. While the downtown building was iconic, serious researchers knew the juiciest information sat in a 2-million-square-foot facility forty-five minutes away.
    Flynn slumped into his seat but not before surveying his surroundings and eyeing the fellow passengers. He surmised that at least two other passengers were CIA and expected them to disappear to the archives’ back entrance once they arrived. The rest looked harmless enough: an elderly lady and her husband; a school teacher; a few doctoral students, undoubtedly heading out to do research. Flynn couldn’t place the last man, but concluded he was a novelist. Five minutes into the trip, Flynn’s assessments proved to be spot-on, based off their conversations with one another. The two CIA agents said nothing, all but confirming Flynn’s hunch.
    He settled in for the ride, thumbing through his phone. Emails. Voicemails. News. Flynn had been so consumed with the events of the past 24 hours that he was way behind on