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“Library computer,” he said. “Ancestry.com.”

I knew Detectives Winthrop and Hayes were surveilling the former Metro detective, and I was about to warn him when Brundage said, “Gotta go, Cross. I have high-troll duties to deal with.” He hung up.

I told Sampson about Brundage’s discovery.

“Didn’t see that one coming, but we know the professor was calling the burner number that Corey McGovern had listed as Bing Bang’s,” Sampson said. “And it makes sense that the person Conway agreed to meet in the middle of the night was a relative. Hopefully this means we can get cell records to tell us exactly where O’Hare entered the park.”

I stood aside to let two forensics techs into the room, which suddenly felt small. I left Sampson to supervise and walked down the hall to the back of the building. I gazed out a window at the empty lot, seeing the scorched ring of weeds superimposed on the images of Charlie’s hat and jacket.

“What were you into, brother?” I muttered. “And how in God’s name did you—”

“Alex?” a voice said behind me. “John said you were back here.”

I turned to see Dr. Janice Taylor, the assistant medical examiner.

“Hi, Janice,” I said. “You the lucky one who pulled this case?”

“I am.” She smiled and held up her hands. “And I apologize. I have no excuse other than things tend to pile up on my desk.”

“I’m not following.”

“The DNA test on the first Firebug victim came back yesterday,” she said. “I compared it to your cheek-swab DNA. It’s not your brother, Alex.”

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MY KNEES FELT WOBBLY enough that I grabbed the window frame. “You’re sure?”

“It’s not even close, Alex,” the forensic pathologist assured me. “I’m so, so sorry I didn’t see the report yesterday when it came in.”

“It happens!” I said, suddenly giddy. Charlie was alive. Alive! Or at least, he wasn’t the victim found here. “Thank you, Janice,” I said, feeling a little breathless. “Thank you. Thank you. This changes everything for me, for my family.”

“I figured it might,” Dr. Taylor said. “I’m happy for you, Alex.”

“Just have to find him now,” I said. “Get him out of places like this for good.”

She smiled. “If anyone can do that, it’s you.”

“Glad you have that kind of faith in me, Janice. And now we both need to get back to what we are paid so richly to do.”

As we headed to the front of the apartment building, I told Taylor about the jacket and wool hat in the room with the corpse.

She frowned, glanced at me. “You don’t think Charlie’s the killer, do you?”

“If those are his clothes, they have to be accounted for. But no. This looks like a professional hit. And my brother always hated guns.”

“He could have been a witness. Maybe Charlie was watching when the killer came in and shot the vic in cold blood.”

“True,” I said, though I couldn’t see it. The only evidence that he’d been in the room was his clothes, and who knew how long they’d been there. Could have been a day, a month, or longer.

Taylor went in to examine the body, and I walked up and down the hall, studying the floor and feeling frustrated at the absence of footprints. I suspected we wouldn’t find any fingerprints either. Not if this was the work of a pro.

My phone rang—Bree. She had spoken to Frost’s receptionist, Randi—Bree wasn’t sure why the woman was in the office on a Saturday, but she was—and Randi told her that the developer was away and unavailable.

“He was supposed to have flown to Atlanta the evening before last,” Bree said. “He was going to see a Braves game yesterday and then meet with bankers this morning about a project he had going down there.”

“She doesn’t know he’s dead?”

“I doubt it, and I didn’t say anything. Figured I’d leave that part of the policing to you.”