Seattle. Sunday morning. June 27, 2004.

At breakfast in the hotel restaurant, Neal debated with himself. If he told Noelle and his grandparents about spotting Robert last night, would it worry them for no reason? Or did they need to know to stay on guard?

"Dear boy, will you tell us what's troubling you?" Irene Caffrey asked.

Neal stopped staring out the window and met his grandmother's green eyes. She often surprised him with her ability to know what her family members were thinking or feeling. His long absence in WITSEC hadn't impaired her ability to read him.

"Will it help if I told you that Graham called?" Noelle asked, referring to Graham Winslow, her ex-father-in-law and retired CEO of Winston-Winslow. "I've already told Mom and Dad that Robert was almost captured by the FBI here last night, and that you were mentioned in the report."

"And Henry?" Neal asked.

Noelle looked surprised. "No, he didn't mention Henry. Is he in Seattle?" She glanced around, as if expecting her son to come strolling in.

"He's probably gone by now. Robert was watching us last night, and Henry was watching Robert. I had a minute to talk to him before he went chasing after his dad again."

"Is..." Noelle faltered. "Is Henry all right?"

"He looked fine. Obsessed, but otherwise normal enough." Neal had been pondering how his aunt would react to questions about her ex-husband, and decided to give it a shot. "I've been wondering about what happens when we all leave Seattle. Do you think Robert would hurt Angela?"

Noelle sat back to consider the question, and a minute later shook her head. "No, I don't. Robert doesn't put a lot of value in women. If we'd had a daughter, he would have ignored her."

"Such an annoying man," Irene added. "You should have divorced him earlier." She glared at her husband. "You and your 'Don't interfere. Let them pick their own husbands.' We should have been more involved."

"It wouldn't have made any difference, Mom," Noelle told her. "Robert was very charming, and I was very in love. And in Dad's defense, when he saw my marriage was crumbling he offered to let Henry and me stay with you if Robert wasn't treating us well." She squeezed her father's arm and smiled up at him. "I know you worried and wanted me to leave Robert earlier when things got rocky, but I still had hopes we could get past our issues. I didn't want to abandon my dream of having the kind of marriage you two had, and I wanted to show Henry you don't just give up on people."

"Your mother's right, though. She did a better job in picking me than our girls did in picking husbands." Looking fondly at his wife, Edmund added, "We'll let you interrogate any contenders for Angela's hand."

"She's too young yet," Irene said. "But Noelle, you're too young to be alone. Come back to D.C. with us. I'll find you someone."

"Really?" Neal asked, smiling at his grandmother. "How would you do that?"

"Well, by going to a bar I suppose," Irene said. "Isn't that where most couples meet these days?"

"Better be careful," Neal warned. "A lot of the men will swarm around you. Anyway, Noelle's already met a –"

"What time is your flight, Neal?" Noelle interrupted before Neal could mention she was dating Peter's older brother.

"You're really leaving us this morning?" Irene asked. "But you barely got here. I thought you would go to Mount Rainier with us today."

"Last-minute change of plans," Neal explained. "There's a stop I need to make on my way back to New York."

"You'll come see us in D.C.," Edmund insisted. "Spend some time with us this summer."

"Of course he will," Irene said. Turning to Neal she added, "You wouldn't miss Henry's birthday party."

Neal was surprised at Irene's confidence that Henry would be able to attend a party this summer, until he remembered what he'd heard about her confidence that WITSEC wouldn't keep Neal away from the family forever. Irene was an ingrained optimist. "No, I wouldn't miss that." He stood up. "I do need to get my luggage and catch a cab to the airport."

Noelle contrived to follow him to the elevator. "You haven't told them about Joe yet?" Neal asked. "You've already met his daughters."

"I've invited him to join us for the Fourth of July in D.C. I'm planning to talk to them about it this afternoon. Or maybe on the day before he joins us for the holiday. I haven't decided yet." It was so rare to see Noelle flustered that Neal chuckled. When they got out of the elevator, she followed him to his room and asked, "Did you have a chance to talk to Angela before everything else happened last night?"

Neal nodded, recalling his aunt's concerns that Angela was brooding over her father's death. "She's worried about the future, about what she'll do after college, and about Henry. She's close to him, too. She's annoyed and concerned he hasn't turned to her for help. Same as you and me. We all want to do something for him, and he's pushing all of us away. He insists he has to deal with Robert alone, but I made a pitch for letting the FBI and Win-Win have a role. He'll think about it." Neal unlocked his door. His bags were already packed. He grabbed them and put on a jacket. It was barely sixty degrees in Seattle this morning and there was a brisk breeze off the cold Pacific. Las Vegas would be a drastic change in climate.

Noelle raised a brow. "He'll think about it. The same way you thought about getting help for your flashbacks?"

Neal closed the door behind them and led the way back to the elevator. "Hey, Henry's almost as smart as me. He saw what I went through. Even someone as hardheaded as he is should have learned from watching that."

Irene and Edmund were waiting for him in the lobby, and Paige had joined them. Everyone hugged him goodbye, with entreaties to visit them soon. Then he was on his way to Las Vegas. But not before Noelle whispered a warning to behave himself, or she'd point his matchmaking grandmother in his direction.

###

Neal had chosen to stay at Caesar's Palace at random, to give the FBI something to focus their attention on while he spent his time elsewhere. The fact is, he'd misled Peter and Tricia about his reasons for this destination. He didn't think anyone here was harboring Henry or acting as his accomplice. Henry had many acquaintances in Vegas, but not trusted friends.

What Neal suspected was that Henry came here to gamble. It was a perfect way for his cousin to pick up money. He could cash in his chips, literally getting cash, so that the transaction wasn't tracked to his name. Neal had two items on his agenda here. First was giving a couple of performances to keep the Urban Legend con spinning. Second was flirting with dealers in the poker rooms in his disguise as Henry, to find out if anyone recalled seeing him in the last few weeks, confirming his theory of how Henry could afford to stay hidden without using his credit cards or accessing his bank account.

As a kid, Neal had hustled pool, and he was an expert at it. That was one of the few skills he'd taught Henry. Henry had taught him poker. Many evenings in Austin, when Neal was recovering from his bout of pneumonia, they played poker or chess. Henry excelled at both games, and he'd taught Neal well.

Before he got started, Neal got the first check in over with. He'd dreaded the idea of check ins with the FBI from Vegas when they were supposed to occur every six hours. Calling every three hours was even worse. He needed to keep the interruptions short so that he could accomplish everything he wanted. Plus, he needed to think up twice as many plausible reports to keep Tricia satisfied that he wasn't going too far off script.

He'd checked into his hotel and unpacked, lingering to make his 3pm call before heading out. Knowing Tricia didn't want to hear that he planned to hang out in casinos – exactly what Peter had said he didn't approve for this trip – he explained that most of his contacts here were people he knew only by first name or alias. He didn't have phone numbers or email addresses to contact them in advance. His plan was to wander in the areas he was likely to find them. That meant he still couldn't give Tricia the itinerary she wanted. She wasn't thrilled, and made it clear that she expected more detail next time, some kind of proof that he really was on a path that could uncover how Henry stayed hidden.

Dressed and in character as his cousin, Neal went to the north end of the Strip. He wandered into the casinos, finding the poker games, and caught the eye of various dealers. If one seemed to recognize him, he struck up a conversation and played a few hands.

When it was getting close to 6pm, he went to the Venetian, planning to eat in one of their restaurants. But first he made his way to the canal, and found the manager of the gondoliers. Neal was pleased to see Rocco was still in charge. Four years ago he'd asked Rocco for a job as a gondolier, and now on every return trip he plagued the man. Neal paused outside Rocco's office to take out the hazel contacts he wore for his Henry disguise. Here he wanted to be recognized as himself.

Neal strolled into the man's office, singing an Italian love song. Rocco looked up in anticipation of finding his next great gondolier, only to frown thunderously when he recognized Neal. "You again? How many times must I tell you? No!" He switched to Italian, gesturing broadly as he complained.

Neal argued with him in fluent, loud Italian. He matched Rocco's gestures and anyone listening to him would have thought both men were from Italy, but that wasn't good enough for Rocco.

Neal's phone vibrated as they reached his favorite part of this argument. He'd timed it perfectly. He was five minutes late for the check in, and Tricia was calling. Switching to English he asked her to wait a moment and then yelled back at Rocco, "I am not too Irish!"

Following Neal back to English, Rocco responded loudly enough for Tricia to hear, "Pale skin, blue eyes. I'd be a laughingstock if I hired you. Even your cousin would be better, and he doesn't speak a word of Italian." Rocco always fell back on this argument, but it was merely part of the game they played. Four years ago he'd refused to hire Neal because the minimum age for his performers was twenty-five, and he wouldn't believe a twenty-one-year-old Neal was old enough, no matter what his fake ID said. When Neal didn't want to take no for an answer, Rocco threw out the "too Irish" line, and now it was a standard part of this routine.

"I should sue you for discrimination," Neal said, repeating his usual response.

"Just like your cousin. I hired him for one night to shut him up."

That must have been recent, because Henry hadn't told Neal about it. "No you didn't. You're lying."

The accusation set Rocco off in Italian again, as he searched through a binder and produced a picture of Henry in the gondolier's costume.

Neal couldn't help laughing. "Please tell me I can have a copy of this. If I threaten to give this to his mom, he'll do anything I ask."

Rocco finally smiled. In the end he was always charmed by Neal, even if he steadfastly refused to hire him. He actually welcomed these boisterous arguments in his office, located near the area where various performers at the Venetian dressed for their acts. He wanted to be heard by them. Word spread like wildfire among the latest group of performers and their friends that the manager was an eccentric. People here liked eccentric, and Rocco would soon get a new crop of applicants eager to prove that they could convince him to give them a try.

In calmer tones, he ordered his assistant to print a copy, and told Neal that the photo had been taken a month ago.

Neal then explained that he had a beautiful woman waiting to talk to him on the phone, and Rocco waved him away in perfect understanding. Following the assistant who was printing the photo, Neal returned his attention to the phone in his hand. He thanked Tricia for waiting and then asked, "How's your vacation?"

"Glorious. Tomorrow we're taking the boys on a cruise to see puffins. It was always a favorite when I was a kid. Are you in a place where you can talk?"

Taking the file folder with the photo, Neal left the office. "Yeah, I got what I needed."

"And what was that?"

"Evidence Henry was in Vegas last month."

"Good work. What was he doing? Do you think he'll be back?"

"Here at the Venetian he was making a nuisance of himself. But it's a start. He loves Italian food, and I'm going to check out the restaurants around the Grand Canal to see if the staff remember him."

Satisfied that Neal had a safe plan, Tricia was willing to let him get back to work.

Popping the contacts back in, Neal walked to his cousin's favorite restaurant at the Venetian and flirted with most of the staff, but wasn't surprised that they didn't remember Henry. He would have been too entranced with the food to waste energy being outrageous here. The hat shop on the path leading back to the casino was another matter.

"Mr. Legend!" said the white-haired man behind the cash register in a lofty English accent. "I'm so glad to see you again. I've been holding the item you selected. Let me find it for you." He stepped into a storage area and returned with a hat box. "Perfect for summer." He opened the box and pulled out a straw fedora.

Neal took the hat and tried it on. It really was perfect. And it wasn't Henry's style. Either his cousin had it in mind as a gift, or had meant it to serve as a message of some kind. Neal gave the shopkeeper his Neal Legend debit card and checked the hat and box for clues. At the bottom of the box was a brochure for one of the older casinos in Vegas. It was one of the few Neal had never visited, because Henry always avoided it. There was so much to do and see here, Neal hadn't questioned the fact that Henry never wanted to stop at the Flamingo. It looked like he was finally going to experience it.

But first he had to visit the poker tables at the Venetian, learning that Henry had a run of luck at poker a week ago. That would have been the same time he'd asked the shop to hold the fedora. He'd made enough on that trip that he could probably go weeks without a need for more cash. But he'd been using the Shawn Legend alias when he'd stayed here, and that was a name Neal couldn't give to the FBI.

Soon it was 9pm, and Neal called Tricia before he entered the Flamingo. He stood on a pedestrian walkway that crossed the Strip. In this part of town, the crowds of tourists meant there were few places outside of hotel rooms that offered privacy for a phone call, but at least on the walkway people were constantly moving around him, no one overhearing more than a few words. And the background noise could give him an excuse to cut the call short, if necessary.

"My working theory is that he made enough money gambling on a couple of trips out here that he's flush with cash."

"Was he staying at the Venetian?" Tricia asked.

"We're not far from Lake Mead," Neal said, avoiding a direct answer. "I want to find out if any Winslows have a boat in the vicinity."

"I can look into that," Tricia said. "I brought my Bureau laptop along."

And that gave the Neal the opening he wanted to distract her from more questions about what he'd learned or planned to do next in Vegas. "Maybe you could run another search for me?"

"Sure. What have you got?" The standard Windows startup tone sounded in the background.

"This morning Noelle mentioned something. Didn't seem like a big deal at the time, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized it could be a lead. She's dating someone, a guy she met right around the time Robert disappeared."

"You think he's a plant, sending Robert information about the family and what they know of Henry's location?"

"I hope not, but the timing is suspicious. And who better than Robert to know what kind of man would appeal to his ex-wife, right?"

"It wouldn't hurt to run a background check. What's his name?"

"Joseph Burke," Neal said.

There was a pause. "That's a coincidence. Joe is the name of Peter's brother."

"Yeah, they met at Peter's family cabin. That's where we went when my flashbacks got really bad. I talked to the guy a couple of times but with everything else going on I wasn't able to get a good feel for him."

"You're asking me to run a search on Peter's brother?"

"You agreed the timing is suspicious. It would be negligent not to check it out." Neal went for the kill. "It doesn't have to go into the file, right? Not unless you actually find something relevant. Joe doesn't have to be associated to the case if he's innocent of any wrongdoing."

Tricia picked up where he was going. "And next you're going to tell me that's why you're being cagey about who you're talking to in Vegas. Because most of them won't pan out as leads, and you don't want to put innocent people in the FBI files, especially in a file for a case as serious as this one. You know, I'm not the bad guy here, Neal. You don't have to con me into doing what you want or into leaving you alone. We're on the same side."

"Sometimes we come at things from opposite directions, though."

"That's where we can learn from each other. I'll do the search on Joe Burke. If anything looks suspicious, I'll give you a call. Your next two check ins are with Peter, and then I'll pick things up in the morning."