Elara's POV
Walsh listened without interrupting. She let us talk through all of it from the beginning and she wrote almost nothing down. Just watched us. I got the feeling she was the kind of person who trusted her memory more than her notes and had been right about that long enough to keep doing it.
When we finished she was quiet for a moment. Then she turned a page in her folder and slid a photograph across the table. A man in his sixties. Heavy set. The kind of face that gave nothing away in photographs because it had been trained to give nothing away everywhere.
"Richard Hale," she said. "You already know him. But look at who is standing behind him."
I leaned forward. In the background of the photo, slightly out of focus, stood another man. Tall. Older than Richard. Watching someth
