Wyl snaked his arms around Rod’s waist from behind. “Who?”

“Fergus Rafferty,” Glenn said. “Found dead in his flat this morning.”

“What caused his death?” Rod’s voice trembled.

“Hair dryer in the bathtub,” Glenn said. “O’Brien is investigating now.”

“He's the one who provided O’Brien with his course project,” Wyl said. “Another of Ailbe’s students.”

“I got a call from O’Brien’s office. I contacted the student who found Rafferty and will be talking with him tonight. I’ll share any important information with you.”

“Thanks, Glenn. We appreciate you."

“You two, be careful.” Glenn opened the door. “MacGowan and Knowlan will go to any lengths to safeguard their plan.”

“We’ll be careful,” Rod gripped his husband’s arms.

The door closed behind Glenn. Rod twisted in Wyl’s arms to face him.

“This case is turning into a nightmare.” Rod’s voice shook with terror. “Two people are dead relating to a cybercrime case.”

Wyl thumbed a tear from Rod’s cheek. “It doesn’t make any sense. Why would students be such a threat?”

“And if students are a threat,” Rod pulled Wyl into a tight embrace, “imagine what kind of threat we are if he discovers we are agents.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

O’Brien visited the flat complex and talked with the neighbors. Flat complexes always include a nosy neighbor or two. Often, a widow with little to do. This complex included such a widow, Mrs. Hallion.

“Come in, Chief Superintendent.” She opened the door for him. “Please, have a seat.” she gestured toward a chair near the window of her tiny flat.

“Thank you, Mrs….”

“Hallion, Chief Superintendent. Grace Hallion.”

“Mrs. Hallion.”

“May I offer you tea, Chief Superintendent?”

“Tea would be wonderful, Mrs. Hallion. Thank you.”

“I won’t be a second. Make yourself at home.”

O’Brien gazed around the tiny apartment, packed with trinkets and memorabilia as evidence of a full life. He assumed the photos of younger families to be Mrs. Hallion’s children and grandchildren.

“You have a lovely family,” O’Brien said.

“Thank you, Chief Superintendent. I’m quite proud.”

“The older gentleman. Is he your husband?”

“Yes. Conor died in 1985, I’m afraid. Heart condition. I finished raising my two boys, and they now have their own families. My sweet grandchildren are in those photos.”

“You must be proud, Mrs. Hallion.”

She brought a tray and set it on the small table. “White or black?”

“White, two,” O’Brien said.

Mrs. Hallion placed two sugar cubes in a porcelain cup, added cream, and poured the hot tea. She added a small spoon to the saucer and handed it to O’Brien.

“Thank you.” The cup rattled as he took it from her.

“What did you want to ask me about, Chief Superintendent?” She picked up her tea and settled into a chair opposite him.

“We found one of your neighbors, Fergus Rafferty, dead in his flat.”

“Oh my,” her expression turned distraught. “He is such a lovely young man. He often ran errands for me. I’m unable to move around as well as I once did.”

“It happened last night, Mrs. Hallion. I wondered if you came across anything unusual.”

“Now that you mention it, I swear someone passed by.” She motioned toward the window behind O’Brien. “It was night, so I can't be sure. But perhaps I caught movement in the dim light of the passageway…at least I thought something moved.”

O’Brien set his tea down and retrieved a small notebook from his pocket. He made a notation about the possible visitor. “What time would this have been, Mrs. Hallion?”

“Oh…around eight o’clock. My program started on the telly, and I glanced out the window and thought someone passed by.”

“Can you describe this figure, Mrs. Hallion?”

“Oh my. I’m afraid not, Chief Superintendent. Anything passing by wore all black.”

“How much of the window did this figure take up, Mrs. Hallion?”

“Oh…if I guessed, about two-thirds of the way up.”

“And did the figure appear to be fat or thin?”

“It’s hard to guess, but I would say thin.”

“Did the figure move fast or slow?”

“More of a sneak, I'd say. Like the figure did not want anyone aware of him or her.”

“Anything else, Mrs. Hallion?”

“Yes…about five minutes later, a shout. It only lasted a short time. More of a mournful cry, really.”

“And did this come from outside?”