She grabbed the handle and stepped into the front office.

I know her.

Gerald Canney continued to stare up at the seventh-floor walkway where that attractive brunette had disappeared from view.

But from where?

He prided himself on his ability to remember faces and match them with names. Part of it seemed to come naturally, part from his training at the FBAcademy in Quantico. Special agents had to spot faces through extra hair, dark glasses, any sort of disguise.

Only with this gal, no disguise. Her face had been there right in front of him, all but daring him to recognize her. Why couldn't he? Could she be in some way connected to the case? The late, great Senator Richard A. Schulz used to have an office in Hart, still did, in a way, until his successor was named. Gerry had just been up there, sifting through the senator's files.

He sighed. The Schulz case was something of an embarrassment to the Bureau. They'd been tipped that the good senator was laundering honoraria, since Gerry was attached to the public corruption unit, he'd been assigned to the team looking into it.

Schulz was suspected of various other dealings of questionable legality. The corruption team was tightening the noose when he dropped to his death from his apartment balcony.

Did he fall or did he jump? The Bureau did not know. They were reasonably sure that he was alone in the apartment when he went over the balcony rail.

How could he fall? The railing was four feet high. He'd have had to climb onto it to fall, and there was no logical reason for him to climb, no plants to water, no hanging decorations that needed attention.

That left a jump. Had he heard about the investigation and decided he couldn't stand the heat? Not likely. Gerry had interviewed both his current mistresses, neither of whom knew about the other. One was listed on his office payroll as an "assistant" for forty-one thousand dollars a year. No one on his staff knew what she looked like, she'd never been to the office.