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It was a large safe, and there was too much to go through in depth before his meeting with Frances Madison at her office, but he wanted to at least get a look at the contents.

He already knew from Beau that he would find a copy of John’s will and life insurance policy, the deed to McCabe House, bank account information, investment records, bearer bonds, certificates of stock ownership… Archie had a few investments himself, but these ledgers and documents were in a different league. He was going to need help—possibly a forensic accountant—to really understand what he was looking at.

There were business records, not a lot, but most of that would be in the medical office building John shared with Mila. John’s passport and identification documents were there, along with a copy of Archie’s birth certificate and documents of guardianship. Archie was hoping the letter to himself might be tucked inside that packet. It was not.

Beau was correct. There was no letter to Archie in the safe.

Mostly, the items in the safe were exactly what Archie expected: an envelope with a modest two hundred dollars in cash for emergencies. Unexpected: a large manila envelope with an assortment of photos of Archie at various points in his life.

Not that Archie was surprised John had photos of him. The house was full of framed photos of Archie from age sixteen on. These were of Archie before he had moved to Oregon. Baby pictures, toddler pics, awkward junior high portraits. John had saved them for Archie, and that was typical of John.

Truthfully, Archie would have preferred to have photos that included his parents—he didn’t have many of those; his parents had not been into photography as John had. But it was still a very nice thought.

Anyway. In short, nothing useful.

Well, no. That wasn’t true. There was plenty in the safe that was of use, but nothing pointing toward a motive for John’s murder.

No blackmail letters.

He hadn’t imagined there would be. Had there been, Beau would certainly have mentioned them.

His back was starting to twinge. He rose and cautiously stretched. Beau had probably done him a favor by bribing him to take a day to rest up. Some of the most troubling symptoms—the sensitivity to light and sound, the nausea, the dizziness—had largely dissipated.

However, he was still supposed to be resting, still supposed to be under a doctor’s care. Maybe he could interview Mila on the pretext of setting up a medical appointment. Beau would likely be skeptical, but after all, Archie knew Mila, so she was an obvious choice.

Maybe. He truly didn’t want to do anything to damage this fragile—and kind of lovely—truce with Beau. But.

Archie’s cell phone rang. He glanced at the number, smiled faintly, pressed accept.

“Agent David.”

Special Agent Betty David exclaimed, “Well! Thank God, Crane. I couldn’t decide if you had a relapse or you were ghosting me.”

“Sorry. I only got your note last night. Thank you for that. I was just about to call you.”

“Yeah, well, you should have had that medal weeks ago. Your weapon, too, although that you’ll probably never see again. OPR and SIRG both cleared you. Didn’t Wagner tell you?”

“I think she’s a little preoccupied right now.”

Betty made a sound of disgust. “You mean because Breland offed himself? Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy.”

Archie couldn’t argue with that. As much as he tried to stay dispassionate about the subjects of his investigations, he had hated—even now hated—John Breland.

David asked, “How are you feeling? How’s the concussion coming along?”

Archie said vaguely, “Remind me where I know you from?”

“Ha ha. But seriously. How are you?”

“Seriously, I’m okay. Better than okay. This week is definitely an improvement.”

Last night had definitely been an improvement. Possibly a turning point.

“That’s a relief. I was getting nervous. Everyone’s really close-mouthed when it comes to you.”

“Close-mouthed about me?” Archie repeated doubtfully.

Betty said, “Not about you, specifically. By which I mean, your identity is being closely guarded outside the Bureau. Also, your whereabouts. Safe to say, you’re probably not the most popular guy over in the Fringe universe.”