Remember When

those big, bright diamonds are forever out of his reach. Which is worse? I wonder. The cage or the knowing?"
    She got to her feet, stared down at him. "We'll talk again soon."
    "I want to see them."
    Eve picked up the truck, tucked it under her arm. "I know. Book him," she ordered, and strolled away while Trevor cursed her.

Epilogue
    It wasn't what she'd call standard procedure, but it seemed right. She could even make a case for logical. Precautions and security measures had to be taken, and paperwork filed. As all parties were cooperative, the red tape was minimal.
    She had a room full of civilians in conference room A, Cop Central. Plenty of cops, too. Her investigative team were all present, as was the commander.
    It had been his idea to alert the media-that was the political side that irked her, even though she understood the reasoning. Understanding or not, she'd have a damn press conference to deal with afterward.
    For now, the media hounds were cooling their heels, and despite the number of people in the room, it was very quiet.
    She'd put names to faces. Samantha Gannon, of course, and her grandparents, Laine and Max, who stood holding hands.
    They looked fit, she thought, and rock steady. And unified. What was that like? she wondered. To have more than half a century together and still have, still need that connection?
    Steven Whittier and his wife were there. She hadn't known exactly what to expect by mixing those two elements, but sometimes people surprised you. Not by being morons or assholes, that never surprised her. But by being decent.
    Max Gannon had shaken Steven Whittier's hand. Not stiffly, but with warmth. And Laine Gannon had kissed his cheek, and had leaned in to murmur something in his ear that had caused Steven's eyes to swim.
    The moment-the decency of that moment-burned Eve's throat. Her eyes met Roarke's, and she saw her reaction mirrored in them.
    With or without jewels, a circle had closed.
    "Lieutenant." Whitney nodded to her.
    "Yes, sir. The New York Police and Security Department appreciates your cooperation and your attendance here today. That cooperation has, in a very large part, assisted this department in closing this case. The deaths of..."
    She'd had very specific, very straight-lined statements prepared. She let them go, and said what came into her mind.
    "Jerome Myers, William Young, Andrea Jacobs, Tina Cobb. Their deaths can never be resolved, only the investigation into those deaths can be resolved. It's the best we can do. Whatever they did, whoever they were, their lives were taken, and there's never a resolution to murder. The officers in this room-Commander Whitney; Captain Feeney; Detectives Baxter; McNab; Peabody; Officer Trueheart-have done what can be done to resolve the case and find justice for the dead. That's our job and our duty. The civilians here-the Gannons, the Whittiers, Roarke-have given time, cooperation and expertise. Because of that, it's done, and we move on."
    She took the bulldozer from the box she'd unsealed. It had been scanned, of course. She'd already seen what was in it on screen. But this, she knew, was personal.
    "Or in this case, we move back. Mr. Whittier, for the record. This object has been determined to be your property. You've given written permission for it to be dismantled. Is that correct?"
    "Yes."
    "And you've agreed to do this dismantling yourself at this time."
    "Yes. Before I... I'd like to say, to apologize for-"
    "It isn't necessary, Steven." Laine spoke quietly, her hand still caught in Max's. "Lieutenant Dallas is right. Some things can never be resolved, so we can only do our best."
    Saying nothing, he nodded and picked up the tools on the conference table. While he worked, Laine spoke again. Her voice was lighter now, as if she'd determined to lift the mood.
    "Do you remember, Max, sitting at the kitchen table with that silly ceramic dog?"
    "I do." He brought their joined hands to his lips. "And that damn piggy bank. All it took was a couple whacks with a hammer. Lot more work involved here." He patted Steve's shoulder.
    "You were a cop before," Eve put in.
    "Before the turn of the century, then I went private. Don't imagine it's all that different. You got slicker toys and tools, but the job's always been the job. If I was born a few decades later, I'd've been an e-man." He grinned at Feeney. "Love to see your setup here."
    "I'd be glad to give you a personal tour. You're still working private, aren't you?"
    "When a case