The hard, wooden chair was about as uncomfortable as I remembered it from a few days ago but this time at least I felt like I had the upper hand. Crew read through the letter a few times while I fidgeted and tried not to demand he run out and investigate not only Pete Wilkins but his sister, Ruth. Instead, my foot bobbing at the end of my crossed legs, I shifted positions about three million times while sighing over and over again.

When Crew finally looked up, he had that ...