“He spoke German after spending a year in Cologne. He had an internship at the Deutsche Bank Washington office this past summer. He wanted a chance to work directly at the Deutsche Bank Frankfurt headquarters.” Her voice hitched, and her hand clutched the coffee cup.

Sherlock gave Marian a moment to collect herself. “The Cronins mentioned a Stony Hart.”

“Stony’s was Tommy’s other main friend, and the oldest of the three of them. As I told you, they’ve all been friends since childhood. I think Stony was Tommy’s very best friend. His dad, Wakefield Hart, was a big deal in investment banking, and that’s how Stony and Tommy met, through Tommy’s grandfather Palmer.

“I remember my sister, Barbara, telling me that Stony’s father, Wakefield, had hung on every word out of Palmer Cronin’s mouth when he was Chairman of the Fed. I don’t know what Palmer thought about the man when Hart had to resign his job at Fannie Mae along with most of their senior executives when they were caught cooking the books. Wouldn’t it be something if even one of those yahoos had the honesty to apologize for what they did?

“Anyway, it was something Tommy and Stony shared, dominant fathers who were bankers, burned by their own greed. I think they both wanted a chance to do better.”

Savich and Sherlock met Tommy’s two sisters, Marla and Joanie, on their way out. The girls seemed as blank and frightened as Marian Lodge said they were. It was not the time to talk with them. Savich arranged for an agent to stay with them, since they were also grandchildren of Palmer Cronin’s.

Their last view of Marian Lodge was of her holding the sisters against her, her cheek pressed against Joanie’s head.

They’d just pulled back into Rock Creek Court when Jimmy Maitland called to tell them Spooner had found the computer used to post the photo of Tommy’s body at the Lincoln Memorial.

The Hoover Building

Sunday afternoon

Agent Lucy Carlyle gave Savich and Sherlock a big smile as they walked into the CAU. “You’ll love this. Walter Hart—Stony—opened his apartment door, took one look at our creds stuck in his face, and turned white as Coop’s boxers. First thing out of his mouth was “I didn’t do anything illegal.”

Coop laughed. “Talk about an open book; his face was a lovely mixture of guilt and fear. I asked him what he did do, and he said, Nothing, I didn’t do anything. Who could forget a classic like that? I gave him my nailed you look, told him we had a warrant to seize his computers and routers and that he was coming with us to the Hoover Building. He hemmed and hawed until I told him we’d arrest him if we had to. I patted him down while Lucy slapped cuffs on him. He said his girlfriend, Janelle Eckles, was coming to see him, and could he at least call her? We said no.

“He was nearly in tears he was so scared. He kept babbling in the backseat about how everything he had on his computer was legal, or if it wasn’t, it should be, and why wouldn’t we tell him what he’d supposedly done? We ignored him, told him you’d be answering his questions. Made you and Sherlock sound as mean as The Hulk on a green day and his sidekick Cruella, who scared him even more.

“Good. You’ve got him all set up,” Savich said. “You got a background check yet?”

“So far, not much more than a Google search. His name is Walter Hart, goes by Stony. His apartment is right off Dupont Circle. He really is a computer nerd, had quite a setup in his apartment, several boxes and monitors. He graduated with honors last year from MIT, started work after that as a junior securities analyst at the UBS office here in D.C. Just started to make a name for himself, I would guess. Spooner says he’s got the IP address dead to rights. There’s no chance he’s wrong. It was the kid’s computer.”

Savich said, “At least we know now this wasn’t a domestic terrorist act committed by some disenfranchised victim of the banking scandal.”

“Nope,” Sherlock said. “What we’ve got is something very close to home. Where is Stony, Coop?”

“We stashed him inside the interview room, where he’s been sitting by himself. I took him to the men’s room a little while ago. Strangest thing, he acted scared, of me, yes, but it was more. He seemed terrified, as if his life was over and someone was going to come up to his urinal and pop him. For uploading that photo on YouTube or because he’d gotten caught? He asked me if he should get a lawyer, and I said he should talk to you about it. Then I left him alone to do his business, because, frankly, he was too scared to get it done. I marched him back to the interview room and left him snuffling into his shirtsleeve.”