Muggy air that was hard to breathe. Sidewalks overcrowded with men in business suits that cost more than what the Doc paid in airfare. Litter-strewn streets that couldn’t decide if they were one-way, two-lane, or dead ends. Washington, DC hadn’t changed at all.

The Doc had hired a shuttle van to take them from the Baltimore airport to their hotel. As much as Sam had loathed the idea of spending anymore time in close proximity to Karl, it was the best choice. Riding the MARC from Baltimore to DC took ages, and they would have had to make several transitions between shuttles and trolleys.

Even so, the van ride from Baltimore to DC had taken more than an hour, made to feel even longer because Karl and the driver had decided to regale the passengers with 80s karaoke.

Poor renditions at that.

Coming into DC from the north didn’t even provide a decent view of the National Mall.

Karl and the driver had just finished murdering an ear-splitting duet version of a Heart song when Sam glanced out the window and spotted a sign for the United States National Arboretum. Strange the odd things that can trigger memories. He hadn’t been to the arboretum since early childhood, early enough that the edges were fuzzy. All he remembered was how much his mother loved the azaleas.

Sam shook the memory away and sat up.

“Doc?”

Dr. Davalos, slumped in the seat in front of him, stirred and lifted his head. “What?”

“You haven’t told me where you guys are staying yet.”

Dr. Davalos yawned and pointed to Mia. “She booked the rooms. I gave her a budget.”

Mia raised her shoulder over the seat to look back at him. “I found us rooms at the Kellogg Conference Center.”

Sam scratched the back of his neck. “I’ve never heard of it.”

“It’s cheap for DC,” Mia said. “And has great reviews.”

“Where is it?” Sam glanced out the windows again, feeling an uneasiness rise in his stomach.

“It’s on the campus of a university,” Mia said. “Gallaudet University?”

Sam’s stomach turned over all the way. “I see.”

He sat back in the seat and clenched his jaw shut.

Of all the hotels in all of Washington, DC, they had to stay in one at Gallaudet University? Was this some kind of cosmic joke?

“It’s quite a ways from where you’re staying,” Mia said. “But it has a free shuttle that will get us to Union Station, and from Union Station, we can get pretty much anywhere.”

“Nice.” Stan beamed from the seat next to Sam. “Well done.”

“We’ll see,” Mia said. “Don’t celebrate yet. It might be horrible.”

Tension crept up the sides of Sam’s neck the closer the van came to the turnoff on Mt. Olivet Road.

Nothing at Gallaudet University had changed either. The same tasteful red-brick buildings stood in stately order across the green lawns. Mums blossomed out of dark mulch along the winding roads on campus.

Why here? His mind sent a stream of memories flashing before his eyes. It could have been anywhere but here. Why here?

“Wow!” Karl exclaimed from the front of the van. “This place is awesome!”

Sam glared in his direction.

He wouldn’t think it was awesome as soon as he left the campus. His little Midwestern brain would explode as soon as he saw the razor wire on the university perimeter fences.

The van pulled to a stop beneath an awning that led into the Kellogg Conference Center, and the driver shook Karl’s hand with a flourish and a stream of some unintelligible gibberish. Sam tuned it out and clambered out of the back of the van as soon as the doors were open.

Outside in the sunlight, he could breathe again.

He let the warmth and the humidity wash over him in tidal waves of serenity, breathing in, breathing out. The others were staying here. He didn’t have to. He got to stay somewhere else, somewhere away from all the memories.

Stan and Karl emptied out of the van too and were unloading luggage from the back while the Doc paid the driver. Mia shouldered her bag and stopped at Sam’s side.

“Are you all right?” She touched his arm.

“Stop asking me that.”

Mia folded her arms. “I will when you tell me the truth.”

He snarled at her. How could someone who didn’t even come up to his shoulder be such a huge pain in his neck?

Mia chuckled, more to herself than out loud. “I left out something important.” She flashed a grin. “I didn’t know how to tell Grandpa about it.”

Sam leveled a glare at her. “Don’t tell me. You neglected to mention that Gallaudet is a school for the deaf?”

Mia lifted her chin. “Very good. I wasn’t expecting you to know that.”

“Of course, I know it, Mia.”

The van drove away, and Karl and Stan hurried for the conference center doors, chattering like a pair of magpies. A large white shuttle bus lumbered into view at the top of the road, heading in the direction of the awning.

“And there’s the shuttle.” Mia turned to him with a smile. “Perfect timing.”

“Great,” Sam scoffed.

Dr. Davalos chased after Karl and Stan, dragging his roller bag behind him. If he’d had a cane, he’d have been shaking it at them.

“Do you want to come in?” Mia jerked her head toward the hotel.

“No.” Sam gripped the strap on his bag. “I’ll met up with you guys tomorrow.”

“Okay.” Mia stepped back. “Washington Monument is where we’re starting.”

Sam sneered. “You’re really going to do the tourist thing, aren’t you?”

“I even brought a fanny pack.” Mia winked and whirled on her heel.

He turned after her. “Mia.”

She stopped before she glanced over her shoulder at him. “What, Sam?”

He blew his breath out his nose. “There’s a couple of places to eat on campus. Stay in tonight. Don’t go out.”

Mia frowned back at him. “Why not?”

“This isn’t the best neighborhood.” Sam rolled his eyes. “If you go out, just get back before it gets dark.”

Mia regarded him with a careful expression. “Good to know. Thanks, Sam.”

“Good night.”

She smiled and glided toward the automatic entry doors.

With the squeal of its brakes, the shuttle lumbered to a stop, and Sam climbed aboard. No other passengers were aboard. He laid his garment bag over a seat and sat down, stretching his shoulders. The driver scrutinized him with deep-set dark eyes beneath furry-caterpillar brows.

“Union Station?” Sam met his gaze in the rearview mirror.

“Yep.”

“Good.” Sam nodded.

The shuttle lurched forward, rocking slightly as the driver hopped the curb, heading northward instead of south as Sam had expected. Sam bit his tongue. Most likely the shuttle had other stops to make on campus before it made its way to Florida Avenue.

The road wound its way across campus in broad, sweeping curves, and Sam let his gaze linger on a large warehouse structure. The Central Utilities Building. How many hours had he spent there as a child, playing cards or doing his homework?

I wonder if Gideon is still alive.

The thought came unbidden, and he shoved it away. He didn’t want to think about Gideon. He didn’t want to think about Gallaudet University. With shaking hands, he opened his briefcase again and pulled out a legal pad to review his notes.

The shuttle stopped two more times before it made a slow, rumbling turn onto West Virginia Avenue.

Sam kept his eyes glued to the legal pad as the shuttle increased its speed. He didn’t dare look out the window. Queen Street Northeast was just in sight of the intersection, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at it.

Would Gideon’s house be unchanged? Or would some young punk have wrecked it?

He already knew the burned-out shell of his childhood home had collapsed years earlier. He remembered that. The smell of burning curtains and singed skin was branded in his mind. A few years after the fire, someone had come along and built on top of the charred skeleton of his parents’ house. Another row house, pristine and modern and priced to sell, like nothing had ever happened there.

Sam shut his eyes and let the rocking of the shuttle force him to relax.

There was no point in getting upset. The past was the past, and nothing could change it. He wasn’t the same person he’d been back then. Gideon Montgomery had been ten years older than God ten years ago, so there was no way the old man was still alive.

Even if he had been, Sam wouldn’t have wanted to see him.

Liar. His mind whispered.

He tuned it out, focused on his notes, and let the old familiar sounds of the city sink into his soul. The police sirens. The honking horns. The gunning engines.

Home sweet home.

The shuttle dropped him at Columbus Circle at Union Station with its great marble columns and golden eagles. As expected, the numbers of homeless people hanging out with the statues and the pigeons hadn’t diminished over the years. Ducking inside, he jumped in line to purchase a metro pass. Hundreds of voices echoed in the huge domed ceilings, and the marble eyes of dozens of statues watched him from the tops of the columns lining the main room.

Checking the departures board, he hurried toward the door marked Trains and pointed his feet toward the Manassas Line. A few escalators and a brisk hike later, his dress shoes slapped against reddish-brown octagonal tiles at the edge of the platform.

The platform buzzed with commuters of every age and ethnicity. Lawyers. Lobbyists. Fast food workers. Congressional aides. Data analysts. Even a handful of FBI agents probably. The DC Underground had always been a mishmash of people crammed into giant cement tubes waiting for a toy train to pick them up.

Sam’s stomach rumbled as he stood waiting for the train to arrive, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten since they’d left San Francisco.

The air within the tunnel shook as the subway cars approached, the PA system inside the towering archways echoing with a series of dings and bells to alert people on the platform of what they already knew. The train was coming. Hooray.

As soon as the bullet-shaped train car screeched to a halt, flinging open its automatic doors, Sam elbowed his way inside. One of the many benefits of being six-and-a-half feet tall meant throwing your weight around actually meant something.

He grabbed a seat at the end of the car and settled in for the eight-minute ride to L’Enfant Station. A non-stop run, there would be no other platforms to keep track of. He had a moment.

Maybe this was a bad idea after all.

Presenting at the Smithsonian was every archaeologist’s dream, and he deserved the honor more than most. Sam would guarantee no other archaeologist in the field could complete a doctorate while saving the world on the side. He’d started with nothing. He’d come from nowhere. He’d worked hard to earn what he had.

He just hadn’t anticipated what being back in DC again would feel like.

Listen to me. I sound as emotional as Ryan.

The fact remained that he was back in DC. He had a job to do, and he’d do it. Not only that, but he’d do it better than anyone else ever had. That’s just who Dr. Sam Logan was. Then, he could add the honor of presenting to the Smithsonian Institute on his CV and leave Washington, DC in his rearview mirror. He’d never have to come back again.

Though, to be fair, it wasn’t really the city he had a problem with.

Regardless, he’d have to watch himself. DC had already dredged up more memories than he’d anticipated, and he’d buried them all for a reason. If he weren’t careful, Stan would catch their scent. The British brat was like a bloodhound when it came to touchy-feeling stuff.

The train glided to a halt with a screeching of its brakes, and, grabbing his bag, Sam squeezed out of the car and paused on the platform long enough to identify which mezzanine led to D Street Southwest. Walking briskly down the red-tile platform, he jogged up the escalators to the mezzanine. He scanned his metro pass at the turnstiles and made his way up the long, curving corridor that led to the street level. The doors of L’Enfant Plaza emptied on the front lawn of the conference hotel.

He readjusted his shoulder bag and marched up the steps through the line of crystalline glass doors to the reception desk.

“Dr. Logan?”

Sam paused and looked over his shoulder at a well-dressed man with tiny spectacles and a gold Rolex. Sam steadied himself, set the pen he held down, and reached out his hand.

“Dr. Morrow.” He flashed his most charming smile. “I wasn’t sure if I’d run into you before tomorrow night.”

“Dr. Logan, I am so thrilled to meet you in person.” The Provost and Under Secretary of the Smithsonian Institute beamed at him. “I’ve been keeping an eye out for some of our more distinguished guests. I’m only sorry I couldn’t catch you at the airport.”

“Well, we flew into Baltimore.”

Morrow scrunched up his nose. “Baltimore?”

“You know Dr. Davalos.”

Morrow rolled his eyes. “Yes, I do.” He sighed. “But, different strokes for different folks, right? Right.” He slapped Sam on the shoulder. “So glad you could make it, Dr. Logan. We’re all really looking forward to your presentation tomorrow night.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Morrow gripped his hand tighter. “I would like to talk to you about something as well, if you have a chance after your presentation. I’d like to introduce you to Dr. Lisa Tanaka.”

“She’s at the Conservation Institute.”

Morrow paused and smiled. “Yes. Yes, she is.” He sounded pleased.

“I’ve read several of her articles.” Sam adjusted his bag. “The preservation of plaster from the Neolithic era.”

Morrow nodded and released his hand. “Well, I’d be thrilled to introduce you.” He grinned. “I’ll let you get settled in, and then I’ll see you tomorrow night, Dr. Logan.”

“Thank you, Dr. Morrow.”

The man in the suit turned on his heel and hurried away, waving at a few of the hotel staff members as he did. Sam took a long, slow, deep breath and let it out.

That wasn’t a conversation he’d anticipated. He’d read almost everything Tom Morrow had published in the last five years. The man was a genius. He was one of the youngest candidates ever selected to be the Provost of the Smithsonian.

Sam took his room key from the desk attendant and walked toward the elevator bank, his garment bag swishing against his back with every step.

Forget this being a bad idea. If I’m going to get to mingle with researchers like Tom Morrow and Lisa Tanaka, it’s worth every fool thing Karl can throw at me.