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awaiting a flight back to FBI headquarters so you could parade me around the office after all these years,” I said.
    “I can’t quite put a finger on you. Never could, as you know. You’ve run rings around me for years. Every big kidnapping has your name on it, though. I can feel it in my bones. Now I’m starting to wonder. . .”
    Ortiz hit a mammoth home run to straightaway center field and the crowd cheered. I had to stand and give props to the man as well.
    “You want another hot dog?” I asked Reggie when I sat back down. He was no longer making pretend he was watching the game.
    “I want answers,” Keane said.
    “You’re asking the wrong person,” I said.
    Keane shook his head. “Here’s the funny part: every few months, maybe two or three times a year, a celebrity or drug lord or millionaire has a child kidnapped. Blood is spilled at the scene at times, and maybe a ransom note is sent or a mysterious phone call asking for millions. Nothing ever comes of it, though. While the police are chasing a phantom, the kid vanishes into smoke. Never to be heard from again. No shallow graves. No fingers sent in bloody envelopes in the mail. No follow-up ransom calls or money requests. It’s all a sham, and I think I figured out what’s going on.”
    I put my hands at my sides as I sat because I could feel them start to shake.
    “Care to take a guess?” Reggie asked.
    “You’re doing pretty well up to this point. Why don’t you keep babbling while I enjoy the last couple of innings?” I nodded to the hot dog guy, my new best friend, and put up two fingers. “You want another dog?”
    “Sure,” Reggie said.
    I put up three fingers.
    Reggie handed me a twenty dollar bill. “My turn to pay.”
    I didn’t argue. He was busting my chops and getting way too close for comfort now. I needed Agent Keane to go away and let me do my job, but it interfered with his. One of us was going to walk away at the end of this story, and I needed to do everything in my power to let it be me.
    “You’re too quiet now. I think I struck a nerve,” Keane said.
    “No. When you actually have something worth listening to I’ll comment. You’re chasing ghosts. It would be great to say all those kids you’ve been searching for are alive and well and living on an island with Jim Morrison, Elvis, Amelia Earhart and Bigfoot in sin. But we both know the sad truth: people kill people, no matter what the age or race or anything else. In the end, no one is safe from a murderer. I’m surprised there aren’t more of these celebrity kidnappings, to be honest. One or two a year isn’t bad odds at all. I wouldn’t worry too much if I were rich,” I said.
    “Aren’t you, though?”
    I shrugged. “I do quite well. My sports card wheeling and dealing is great. I can’t complain. It allows me to take trips like this whenever I want without worrying about money. I’ve never been married and have no kids. I can come and go as I please. I’m living the dream,” I said truthfully.
    “It must be nice,” Reggie said quietly. He was staring at the field but not watching the game. “I like you, James, or whatever your real name is. I really do. I wish I had the life you lead.”
    “Then work for me. I could always use a security detail when I move some of my bigger collections,” I said impulsively. Yeah, I was thinking of buying him and being done with it. I knew even if he accepted, and I knew he never would, another FBI agent would pick up the pieces and the trail eventually. I could only buy his silence with a steady paycheck for so long, anyway. Reggie Keane wasn’t a guy you could buy no matter what the cost was. I respected and hated him for it right now.
    “You know I can’t do it. I know you’ll never admit to any wrongdoing and I’d be disappointed if you did, but you’re involved in something very big and very bad. I’ll figure it out and slap the cuffs on you. You’re about the only thing keeping me from retiring,