We learn that Shane, 46, graduated from a public high school in East Hampstead, Long Island, and eventually from Rochester Institute of Technology in Rochester, New York, with a degree in computer science. While at Rochester he met the woman he would eventually marry. Recruited as a civilian software engineer by the FBI to help modernize their fingerprint database, he’d eventually applied to and been accepted as a special agent, in which capacity he continued until the deaths of his wife and daughter, after which he resigned from the FBI.

“That’s the standard bio on the guy,” Teddy says. “There’s more, of course.”

“Hold on, cowboy,” Dane says. “Are you telling us that bad boy is a computer geek? With those guns?”

“Guns?” Naomi asks, puzzled. “He was unarmed.”

“Muscles, silly.” Dane poses, cocking her right arm. “Biceps.”

“Ah,” says Naomi, satisfied. “Continue.”

Teddy is new enough to the team to still be made uneasy by the frequent, challenging interruptions, encouraged by boss lady, who believes that banter and peer pressure create what she calls “free thought radicals.” The back-and-forth is all part of her method, which can be difficult for a person as naturally shy as Teddy. He swallows hard, takes a deep breath, finds his place. “In those days Shane was kind of a geek at heart, if not in appearance. That’s how the FBI used him, too. He spent about half his career testifying or lecturing on methods of forensic identification, not out in the field. He was basically an expert with a cool badge. They still use his program for the fingerprint database.”

Naomi interrupts, as is her wont: “Jack? Does that accord with your personal knowledge?”

“Yep,” says Jack, adjusting the crease of his slacks. “The kid has it right.”

Naomi’s attention returns to Teddy. “Continue.”

He takes a breath, nods. “So everything changes one rainy Sunday night in New Jersey. Shane and his wife and kid are driving back from D.C. to New York. Mr. Shane at this time works out of the FBI field office in Manhattan.”