11I opened my mouth to interrupt, but Ulf was quicker.
“He wasn’t murdered for being my brother,” he said to me. “No, somebody didn’t want him to talk to you.”
“Why?” Dawna asked sharply. “What was he going to tell her?”
My muscles tensed as if to ward off a blow. I had to take control of this conversation. “That’s not FBI business,” I said to Dawna. “Let me handle it.”
Dawna’s face twisted with outrage. She wasn’t going to let me cut her out of any part of the investigation. She said, “Forget it, Collins—”
Ulf silenced her with a curt hand motion. “I’m happy to talk with you,” he said to me. “But not in front of the police.”
Dawna’s body was rigid, physically holding her anger in check. She gestured toward the spot where the three Danish cops had been only moments before. “So talk,”
