It would be too embarrassing if she got caught. She compromised with an extra ten minutes in the shower and felt justified when the headache backed off to threatening.

She traded in the day’s separates—she was going to remember that one—for a T-shirt and jeans. She thought about going barefoot, but there was that cop-in-the-house factor, and bare feet always made her feel partially naked.

She went for tennis shoes.

Since she felt nearly human again, she stopped by the computer lab on her way to her office.

Roarke and Feeney were manning individual stations. Roarke had his sleeves rolled up and his hair tied back, as was his habit when he settled into serious work. Feeney’s short-sleeved shirt looked as if he’d mashed it into a ball and bounced it a few times before putting it on that morning. It also showed off his bony elbows. She wondered why she found them endearing.

She must be seriously tired.

There were screens up with data zipping across them too quickly for her eye to read. The men tossed comments or questions at each other in the geek language she’d never been able to decipher.

“You guys got anything for me in regular English?”

They both looked over their shoulders in her direction, and she was struck how two men who couldn’t have been more different in appearance could have identical looks in their eyes.

A kind of nerdy distraction.

“Making some headway.” Feeney reached into the bag of sugared nuts on his work counter. “Going back a ways.”

“You look . . . fresh, Lieutenant,” Roarke commented.

“I didn’t a few minutes ago. Grabbed a shower.” She moved into the room as she studied the screens. “What’s running?”

Roarke’s smile spread slowly. “If we tried to explain, your eyes would glaze over. This one here might be a little more straightforward.” He gestured her closer so she could see the split screen working with a photo of Judith Crew on one side and a blur of images running on the other.

“Trying for a face match?”

“We dug up her driver’s license from before the divorce,” Feeney explained. “Got another run going over there from the license she used when the insurance guy located her. Different name, and she’d changed her hair, lost weight. Computer’s kicking out possible matches. We’re moving from those dates forward.”

“Then we’re using a morph program on yet another unit,” Roarke continued. “Searching for a match on what the computer thinks she looks like now.”

“The civilian thinks if the image was close, we’d have matched by now.”

“I do, yes.”

Feeney shrugged, nibbled nuts. “Lot of people in the world. Lots of women in that age group. And she could be living off-planet.”

“She could be dead,” Eve added. “Or she could have evaded standard IDing. She could be, shit, living in a grass shack on some uncharted island, weaving mats.”

“Or had facial restructuring.”

“Kids today.” Feeney blew out an aggrieved breath. “No faith.”

“What about the son?”

“Working a morph on that, too. We’ve hit some possibles. Doing a secondary on them. And our boy here’s looking for the money.”

Eve looked away from the screens. The rapid movements were bringing back the headache. “What money?”

“She sold the house in Ohio,” Roarke reminded her. “It takes a bit of time for the settlement, the payoff. The bank or the realtor would have had to send the check to her, or make an e-transfer per instructions. In the name she was using at the time, unless she authorized it to be paid to another party.”

“You can find out stuff like that? From that long ago?”

“If you’re persistent. She was a careful woman. She authorized the settlement check to be transferred electronically to her lawyer, at that time, then sent to another law firm in Tucson.”

“Tucson?”

“Arizona, darling.”

“I know where Tucson is.” More or less. “How do you know this?”

“I have my ways.”

She narrowed her eyes when Feeney looked up at the ceiling. “You lied, you bribed and you broke any number of privacy laws.”

“And this is the thanks I get. She was in Tucson, from what I can find, less than a month in early 2004. Long enough to pick up the check, deposit it in a local bank. My educated guess would be, she used that point and those funds to change identities once again, then moved to another location.”

“We’re narrowing it down. Once the matches are complete, we’ll take a hard look at the hits.” Feeney rubbed his temple. “I need a break.”

“Why don’t you go down, have a swim, a beer?” Roarke suggested. “We’ll see what