Color me intrigued. I closed the door, then shook the agent’s hand. What in the world did the FBI want from me?

“Pleased to meet you.”

“Same. Your captain’s been talking you up to me, and now I’m quite interested.”

He sized me up the same way I’d done him. I’d made a good call, stopping by the restroom on my way to the captain’s office. My shirt still had wrinkles in it, but I’d at least retucked and made sure everything was in its proper place.

“I’m sure you’re curious what all this is about,” Captain Ward said. “I’ll let Special Agent Knight take over from here.”

“Please do.”

I took a seat a couple of feet away from the FBI agent and folded my hands in my lap. So this wasn’t another recommendation, then.

Please don’t let them ask me to join the FBI again.

Over the years, many different positions had come up in this department or through a transfer, but I’d turned down every one. If I left my current position, then I would have to give up an important unsolved crime—my wife’s murder. And I had no intention of doing that, even if it took me until retirement to find the criminal responsible for ruining my life.

“This is about the Handkerchief Murders.”

I straightened up in my chair. “The Handkerchief Murders?”

“Yes, Captain Ward says you’re the detective who’s been working on this case for close to a decade. That you’re the one who could supply us with all the information about these cases so far.”

“That’s right.” I frowned. “But I don’t understand. Why’s the FBI suddenly interested in this case after all these years?”

Over two dozen people had been killed in a span of ten years. The FBI could—should—have intervened long before now, but the cases hadn’t been urgent to them, given that ninety percent of those killed had been criminals. The city was definitely not mourning their loss. That ten percent had been people without a rap sheet, including my wife, who hadn’t been deemed important enough for the federal agency to step in.

“What I am about to disclose stays in this room. Only a few people know of these events, and we’re keeping that number as small as possible.”

“Understood.”

“Governor Joseph Roffe’s wife received one of those handkerchiefs at her workplace a week ago.”

I cocked my head. “Did you say a week ago? And they didn’t pass the information on to us?”

“The governor’s office apprised me of the situation,” Captain Ward said. “But until the FBI put their team together, there was nothing to share.”

“This is information that should be entered into evidence,” I countered.

“And it has,” Knight said. “Back at our site.”

“What site?”

“As of today, a special task force has been assigned to the case of the Handkerchief Murders. We have the resources to track down and find this killer, but our greatest resource is you, Detective Neely. You have an intimate knowledge of this criminal, and we would like the local authorities, chiefly you, to assist us in this case where possible.”

It was on the tip of my tongue to ask where the task force had been when the murders started, but I held back the words. Help might have come years too late, but at least it had arrived. It was still better than the silence and non-answers we’d received over the years. We might be a large police department compared to some, but we still lacked the resources the FBI had to expand our investigations.

“We understand you are personally invested in this case, Detective Neely, and that more than anyone else, you would like to see the man responsible for the abduction of your wife face the penalties for his crime. To achieve this, we need to know everything that you do.”

I glanced over at my captain, struggling for the words to respond. Would they shut me out of the case once they had all the information they needed?

“Jesus, Neely, I can see your brain working overtime. We’re just loaning you to the FBI. As soon as the case is solved or they have what they want, you can return to your post full time.” Captain Ward shook his head. “I swear I’ve never seen a man more fearful of career advancement.”

“I’ll do it,” I said. “But I need your promise, Special Agent Knight, that you won’t shut me out of the investigation once you have all my notes. When you catch him, I want to be there. I need to know where he’s dumped my wife’s body so we can have the proper burial she deserves.”

“Rest assured, Detective. With the many years you’ve been handling this case, you need to work directly with us. We’re not just looking for information. We want someone on our team who has intimate knowledge of the killer, the way they think, and the way they operate. If you’re half as good as your captain says, we believe you’re that man.”

I nodded, presenting an exterior of calm, but my heart hammered in my chest. This was it. I’d always known it was only a matter of time before we caught our Handkerchief Murderer. One slip up. That was all I needed to uncover his identity. But this task force would work just as well. With the FBI’s expertise, reach, and resources, and the data I’d collected over the years, we had to catch our murderer.