“Why don't you contact that person, ask for a site visit.” Janet smiled. “Maybe we can tell her about Yelena Thornton and at least let her know we're investigating.” The bells rang their mournful tones above her as she followed the casket into the Cathedral Basilica of the Immaculate Conception, mourners lining either side of the grand stairway leading into the church, and the surviving Weintraub brother walking beside her, looking much, much older than when she'd seen him in San Diego. Twelve tones rang their declaration of the hour on this Tuesday, and Janet knew this to be the blackest Tuesday she'd ever faced, one that had begun with a call at dawn. “Janet,” her secretary Stan had said, his face on her comcard looking worried, “Deputy Anthony Stewart insists on seeing you immediatel