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“Yes. My—the director at the Worley Foundation phoned to let me know I’ve been fired.”

“Ohhell. But why?”

Quinn’s instant and sincere concern closed Andy’s throat. Why did sympathy always make it harder? But also, that genuine and genuinely obliviousbut why? Did Quinn really not get how most people would view the events of the last seventy-two hours?

“It’s…from the moment Marcus was…died, I knew this was liable to happen. The Worley family is extremely conservative, and so is the museum’s board of directors. Any hint of a scandal…”

Something Marcus had been well aware of and had often used as leverage. In fact, it was a little ironic that in dying, Marcus had gone ahead and done what he’d threatened so often: gotten Andy fired.

Quinn thought that over, suggested, “When the full story comes out, don’t you think there’s a possibility they might rethink their decision?”

“No. A couple of the board members already felt I was too young for the position. This will only convince them they were right all along.”

They really were getting to know each other again because Andy could see Quinn stop himself from reaching out. The funny thing was, though Andy did not like being touched, somehow he didn’t mind, was getting used to Quinn’s physicality. He wouldn’t have minded a hug just then.

Quinn said quietly, “I’m sorry, Andy.”

“No. You don’t have to be sorry for anything. I draggedyouinto this. I wish… Well, it doesn’t matter. It’s done.” He sighed, sat back in his seat, even managed to smile into Quinn’s worried eyes. “Honestly, I might have had to resign anyway. I don’t know how much help Uncle C.’s going to need or for how long.”

Quinn was still frowning. “You’re taking this awfully well.”

Andy didn’t try to smile that time. “No. I’m not.”

And Quinn had the sense to leave it there.

Initially, the State Police seemed to be under the impression that Quinn and Andy were turning themselves in after having tried to make an aborted run for it. One phone call to Washington later, everyone was on the same page, Quinn and Andy were released from handcuffs, their belongings were restored to them—Andy’s snow globe raising a few eyebrows—and they were escorted from separate interrogation rooms to Colonel PJ Love’s office, where they were offered coffee, Christmas cookies, and courtesy bordering on deference.

Something about those three little letters—CIA—seemed to, well, alarm people.

Quinn did ninety-eight percent of the talking.

Colonel Love, Lt. Colonel Bingham, Special Services Major Paladino, and Operations Major Colewell did the listening.

Administrative Assistant Lynch took notes, and Andy ate most of the Christmas cookies. That was nerves as much as hunger. He did feel a little better after a BOLO was issued for Paul Robie. The prevailing attitude seemed to be that Robie would be in handcuffs before Andy and Quinn ever left the building, which was nice, but Andy would believe it when he saw it.

“Let me see if I follow this,” Colonel Love said when Quinn at last finished his recital. “Under the direction of Dutch national Cyril Sirius, Angstrom Glencore Inc. is smuggling gems from St. Petersburg, Russia to Bantam Imports in New York, which hides the gems in small decorative objects like snow globes and ships them to select distributors who received purchase orders from a pawnshop owned by a now-deceased Bangor couple, who then shipped the snow globes and gems to a list of buyers across North America.”

“Correct,” Quinn said.

“And you believe that Ray Millard, Safehaven’s police chief, was working with the Whittakers. That he personally delivered snow globes to a village shop called Time in a Bottle, and that Time in a Bottle was one of the distribution centers for these decoy snow globes.”

“Yep.”

Andy must have made some unconscious sound of dissent because suddenly every pair of eyes in the office was trained on him.

“No?” Colonel Love said.

Andy gave Quinn an apologetic look.

Quinn said, “Mr. Allison and I disagree on the point of Chief Millard’s involvement.”

“I don’t see how it could be done without raising my uncle’s suspicions. Of all people, Millard is probably the least likely to pass off those globes without being noticed. How would he do it?”

Quinn said, “Here, Cutty, I found this parcel outside your door. It looks like the paperwork is missing.”

Andy made a face. “Maybe that would work once. But we’re theorizing this has been going on for months, if not years.”

“We both know Cutty sometimes loses track of inventory. He was always discovering lost treasures on the shelves or in the stockroom.”