“I can enhance the picture a little more.”

I press play. The grainy black-and-white image of the arsonist appears on-screen. I press play once more, the arsonist moves closer to the camera, and I freeze the frame. “Okay, Barney, one more time.”

“Let me see what I can do.”

A dashed box appears around the head of the arsonist and suddenly zooms in.

Ana sits up and stares at the image. “Is Barney doing this?” she asks.

“Yes.” And I know I sound as awed as she looks by Barney’s technical prowess. “Can you sharpen the picture at all?” I ask him. The picture blurs, then refocuses moderately sharper on the asshole. He’s looking down at the floor. Ana tenses and squints at the screen.

“Christian,” she whispers. “That’s Jack Hyde.”

What!

“You think?” I squint at the image.

“It’s the line of his jaw.” Ana points at the screen following the monochromatic line of his chin. “And the earrings and the shape of his shoulders. He’s the right build, too. He must be wearing a wig, or he’s cut and dyed his hair.”

I feel the blood drain from my face. Hyde. Jack fucking Hyde!

“Barney, are you getting this?” I put the phone down and switch to hands-free, then whisper to Ana, “You seem to have studied your ex-boss in some detail, Mrs. Grey.”

Ana grimaces and shudders while anger surges like sulfuric acid through me.

“Yes, sir. I heard Mrs. Grey. I’m running facial-recognition software on all the digitized CCTV footage right now. See where else this asshole—I’m sorry, ma’am—this man has been within the organization.”

“Why would he do this?” Ana asks.

I shrug, trying to mask my rage.

Fucking Hyde.

I put a stop to his creepy shit. Fired him. Punched him and broke his nose.

“Revenge, perhaps,” I offer, darkly. “I don’t know. You can’t fathom why some people behave the way they do. I’m just angry that you ever worked so closely with him.”

We have to get this information to the police, the FBI, and Welch, though he has some explaining to do. Hyde is obviously not in Florida. Why the hell did Welch think he was? I need to talk to him. And maybe, given all this time, Hyde may have skulked back to his apartment, here in Seattle. Welch needs to find him sooner rather than later, and if he does, I hope I get to punch that fucker’s lights out again. One thing’s for sure, I need to keep him away from my wife, keep her safe. I curl my arm around her waist.

“We have the contents of his hard drive, too, sir,” Barney adds.

I interrupt Barney with the first thought that comes into my head. “Yes, I remember. Do you have an address for Mr. Hyde?” I don’t want to alarm Ana with the details of what was on Hyde’s old computer.

“Yes, sir, I do,” Barney says.

“Alert Welch.” Welch needs to make sure Hyde’s not back home.

“Sure will. I’m also going to scan the city CCTV and see if I can track his movements.”

“Check what vehicle he owns.”

“Sir.”

“Barney can do all this?” Ana whispers, clearly impressed.

I nod, feeling a little smug that he works for me.

“What was on his hard drive?” she asks.

I shake my head. “Nothing much.”

“Tell me.”

“No.”

“Was it about you, or me?”

She is not going to drop this.

“Me.” I sigh.

“What sort of things? About your lifestyle?”

No. I shake my head and place my index finger on her lips.

We are not alone, Ana.

She scowls at me but keeps quiet.

“It’s a 2006 Camaro,” Barney pipes up, excited. “I’ll send the license details to Welch, too.”

I’m sure he has them, but it doesn’t hurt to be sure. “Good. Let me know where else that fucker has been in my building. And check this image against the one from his SIP personnel file. I want to be sure we have a match.”

“Already done, sir, and Mrs. Grey is correct. This is Jack Hyde.”

Ana grins, practically preening, she’s so pleased with herself.

As she should be.

I run my hand down her back, proud of her. “Well done, Mrs. Grey.” To Barney, I add, “Let me know when you’ve tracked all his movements at HQ. Also check out any other GEH property he may have had access to, and let the security teams know so they can make another sweep of all those buildings.”

“Sir.”

“Thanks, Barney.” I hang up the phone. “Well, Mrs. Grey, it seems that you are not only decorative, but useful, too,” I tease.

“Decorative?”

“Very.” I press a soft kiss to her lips.

“You’re much more decorative than I am, Mr. Grey.”

I wind her braid around my wrist and hold her, pouring my gratitude into a deep and tender kiss. She’s done so much today. And identified our perpetrator!

She pulls away.

“Hungry?” I ask.

“No.”

“I am,” I confess.

“What for?” She eyes me warily.

“Well—food, actually.”

She giggles. “I’ll make you something.”

“I love that sound.”

“Of me offering you food?”