Measure of Darkness by Chris Jordan Page A

it happen. From all descriptions, this was a professional, military kind of outfit, precision-executing a mission.”
    Bevins nods in recognition. “Covert special ops. Which leaves us with at least a couple of possibilities. One of our agencies dispatched an elite unit to seize and detain a U.S. citizen on U.S. soil and has somehow managed not to share that fact with any of the other interested national security agencies, mine included. Or some evildoer has it in for Shane and sent mercenaries to snatch him.”
    â€œEvildoer?”
    â€œThat’s how we talk in the FBI. Saves a lot of explaining. ‘Evildoer’ covers terrorist, dictator, gang boss, Wall Street banker, the Yankees, take your pick of the loathsome.”
    Dane looks startled. “The Yankees?”
    â€œI’m from Jamaica Plain. My dad was a Boston cop.”
    â€œNo kidding? I should have known that.”
    â€œYou can’t know everything.”
    â€œAnything I found on Google, it alluded to you growing up on Long Island.”
    Bevins reveals a sly smile. “Evildoers might want to target family. Search engines can provide a useful smokescreen. We call it ‘identity diversion.’ Simple but effective.”
    Dane nods thoughtfully. “You’re FBI from Boston and Shane’s your BFF, so you must know Jack Delancey.”
    After a slight hesitation, Bevins says, “That’s an affirmative.”
    â€œYou could be telling this to him.”
    â€œYou’re the better choice.”
    â€œYou and Jack don’t get along?”
    Bevins shrugs. “We never saw eye to eye, and that’s his problem. Me being tall.”
    â€œWhat?” Dane does a double take. “Your height? Seriously?”
    â€œHe calls me ‘The 50 Foot Woman,’ as in Attack of The 50 Foot Woman, some cheesy horror flick he finds amusing. As I’m sure you’ve noticed, Jack loves women. What you may not have noticed, he only loves ’em if they’re five foot ten or less. Turns out, he can’t handle a female boss who’s taller than he is. Admitted as much. I’m one of the reasons he resigned. The other, of course, is that a higher salary means he can buy more suits. And wives.”
    â€œI’ll give him your love.”
    â€œDo that. Really, it’s not a problem. We get along fine just as long as we don’t have to speak, or see each other.”
    The shiny-top table starts to vibrate delicately. Bevins retrieves a cell phone from her briefcase, flips it open, checks the display. “Sorry, gotta go. You’ll keep me informed?”
    Dane stands, takes a deep breath. “Monica? One more question. Do you think Shane is still alive?”
    The big woman blinks, holding herself still. “Absolutely. I’d bet everything that he’s been taken alive forinterrogation purposes. Whoever it is behind this, they think he knows something.”
    â€œWhat? What could he know?”
    Bevins hoists the handbag strap to her shoulder. “If I knew that, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. It wouldn’t be you, it would be Shane, and he’d be buying bacon cheese dogs for two and insisting I eat with him, because life is short but we’re not.”

Chapter Fourteen
The Invisible Man Revealed
    T he first time I saw Naomi destroy one of her beautiful watercolors, I screamed for her to stop. She gave me a look as flat as Death Valley and kept slowly and methodically shredding the damp paper.
    â€œGet used to it,” she said.
    Three years, close to a thousand attempts at perfection, and I’m still not used to it.
    Here’s the deal. Almost every day at 3:00 p.m., boss lady goes to the ground-floor solarium, which has the requisite northern lighting, and arranges a still life on a small table kept there for that purpose. Could be cut flowers, or an antique cream pitcher, or a found object, or all three. When she has the arrangement