SAC William’s brows furrowed. “You’re not sure. You construct this entire story and end with I’m not sure?”

“I don’t know if it was accidental or if it was intentional. I don’t believe Simon would’ve intentionally taken a medication to which he had a sensitivity. Perhaps it was an ingredient of another medication? I don’t know.”

“What are you saying?”

“Although Simon’s body was badly burned, I was able to order an analysis of his tissue remains.” When the SAC’s expression changed, Harry added, “I ordered the tests while I was on the case. It took a while for the results. Honestly, I was expecting to find actaea pachypoda. More than expecting—I wanted to find it. If I had, it would’ve confirmed Rawlings’ connection.”

“I should’ve been notified if actaea pachypoda was found.”

“You weren’t notified, because it wasn’t found,” Harry admitted.

“What did you find?”

“The only unusual marker was a normal-high level of diphenhydramine.”

“Normal-high? What does that mean?”

“Simon had 17.5 micrograms/liter of diphenhydramine in his tissues. A lethal dose isn’t obtained until over 19.5 mg/L. Simon’s dose was high, but not out of the normal range.”

“Why is this worth my time or the bureau’s?”

“Because, sir, according to Simon’s mother, he had an unusually high sensitivity to diphenhydramine.”

“Benadryl,” Williams said.

“Yes, Benadryl, which is available at every drugstore and convenience mart throughout the country. Mrs. Johnson said that it was nothing new. It’s something Simon dealt with since a small child. He knew how to avoid it. Just a little Benadryl would make him incredibly sleepy. Mrs. Johnson vehemently swore that Simon would never knowingly consume Benadryl or any medication containing Benadryl, like Tylenol PM, prior to flying. I’d have to agree. Simon was very conscientious. He had his whole life ahead of him. Unfortunately, I was away on assignment when he died, but I was around when he proposed. Amber was ecstatic and so was Simon. It just doesn’t make sense.”

“Let me get this straight: you want to reopen this closed case because Mr. Johnson’s plane was not tampered with and he had an unusually high sensitivity to the only foreign substance found in his body. Do you believe that he was poisoned?”

Harry contemplated his answer. “Do I believe? I don’t have enough information to believe or disbelieve. I’ve been taught to look at information objectively. Objectively, I have more questions than answers. Another piece of the puzzle that doesn’t fit, in my opinion, was my attack and the threat against Jillian. I mean, Rawlings was with Claire. It wasn’t very much later that he confessed to conspiracy. Why would he have me attacked and threaten my daughter? How would he even know about her? That was the point of what I did when I chose the bureau over parenthood. I wanted to separate that part of my life and assure her safety. I know Rawlings has money, and initially that’s what I told myself. I said he paid to get all the information he could on me. I believed he saw me as a threat. Even I don’t believe that anymore. I was no more a threat to him and his relationship with Claire than her bodyguard was, especially in his eyes. He’s too egotistical to see anyone as a threat. People like him believe they own the other person. No one belonged with Claire but him—he didn’t care enough about me to threaten my family. I believe someone wanted to stop my research. I just don’t know who that someone could be.”

“Are you insinuating a mole? Here in the bureau?”

Harry chewed his cheek for a second while his blue eyes looked down and then back up again. “How many people here at the bureau know about my daughter?”

Williams leaned back and contemplated the question. “Prior to your attack, only myself and the deputy director.”

“I suppose it’s your call, if you feel an internal investigation is needed—”

“Son, who outside of the bureau knows about your ex-wife and daughter?”

“No one knows. They’re no longer part of who I am. I have no past.”

“Everyone has a past.”

Harry mulled the SAC’s last comment over in his thoughts. “Sir, that’s what I know. I also know that we had a deal with Rawlings. I knew about it, you knew about it, and the Boston field office was in on it. The FBI may be a demanding wife, but she doesn’t go back on her word.”

“That’s very upstanding of you. Again, it isn’t your call.”

“May I travel to Iowa?”

“As an agent or a private citizen?”

All moisture disappeared from Harry’s mouth; his tongue suddenly became thick. “Are you saying that if I go to Iowa, I’m no longer a part of the FBI?”

“No, unless you entered this office with the intention of resigning?”

“I didn’t, sir.”

“If you choose, as a friend of the Vandersols, to take a few days of leave and visit Iowa, I won’t try to stop you. However, if you use your position in the FBI with the local authorities or anyone else while there, you will be subject to disciplinary action. The call is yours. This case almost cost you your badge. Consider your options and tread lightly.”

“Hypothetically, if I go to Iowa, as a friend of the Vandersols, and I learn anything particularly useful, may I share it with you?”