“You don’t know it’s the same Joseph Everett,” Tully said from the doorway, watching O’Dell’s fingers fly over her computer keyboard.

“Unlikely that there are two Reverend Joseph Everetts in the Virginia area,” she said without a glance, but he recognized that anxious tone in her voice, and he couldn’t help thinking, “Here we go again.”

He became a little nervous whenever O’Dell got that tone in her voice and a certain look in her eyes, like she was on a personal mission. The last time it happened, the two of them ended up in a burning house with O’Dell saving his life—after he took a bullet to his thigh.

He was relieved, however, that they might actually have some answers. And also relieved that Emma had gotten through the morning. O’Dell was right. Emma was an incredibly brave and smart girl. And before Agent LaPlatz volunteered to drive her back to Reston High, he embarrassed his brave, smart daughter with a hug and told her how proud he was of her.

Tully watched as O’Dell brought up some sort of document and began scrolling through it. He looked over at Dr. Patterson, who sat in the overstuffed lounge chair O’Dell had managed to squeeze into her small office. There had been several late nights when he had found his partner curled up and asleep in it. All of their offices in BSU were small, but O’Dell had a knack for organizing, using every inch of the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and little cubbyholes to keep piles off chairs and off the floor, so that even with the lounge chair, her office looked cozy but not overcrowded. Not like his own, which reminded him some days of a storage closet with walking paths to his desk.

Dr. Patterson had removed her heels, and Tully watched absently as she made herself comfortable, tucking her legs underneath her. In doing so, she hiked up her skirt. She had great legs. Trim ankles. Firm, smooth thighs. Jeez! What the hell was wrong with him? He looked away as if caught doing something he shouldn’t.

Usually Gwen Patterson bugged the hell out of him. There seemed to be nothing they agreed on. The last time he and O’Dell were working late, they stopped at her huge Tudor in Newburgh Heights, where Dr. Patterson had been dog-sitting. The three of them decided to order takeout. If he remembered correctly, he and Patterson had gotten into an argument over Chinese or pizza, debating each food’s nonnutritional value. Of course, she was supposed to be the expert, being a so-called gourmet cook. Yeah, she irritated the hell out of him. Didn’t mean she couldn’t have great legs, though. Maybe thinking about Caroline over the weekend had simply reminded him—

“Here’s something.” O’Dell interrupted his rambling thoughts. “It’s a court document. It’s old—1975. That’s over twenty-five years ago. Everett would have been…what do you think…in his twenties?”

“We don’t even know yet if Everett is involved.”

“Cunningham must think so or he wouldn’t be sending you and Gwen to Boston to interview the lone survivor. And he didn’t hesitate when I asked to arrange a meeting with someone from Everett’s organization. Maybe even an ex-member. In fact, he told me he’d call Senator Brier and see if he had any connections.”

O’Dell kept her back to them while she read. Dr. Patterson was ignoring the two of them, rolling her shoulders and slowly massaging her temples—perhaps some relaxation routine she was used to doing to unwind. Tully found it distracting as hell. He finally gave in and came to O’Dell’s side to look at what she had found.

“Not like a trip to Boston will do much good,” Tully said. “The kid wasn’t willing to talk at the cabin when we had him scared out of his wits. I can’t imagine he’ll spill anything now after he’s had a nice warm place to sleep and three square meals.”

“What makes you think that fear can be the only motivating force to get a suspect to talk?” Dr. Patterson asked without disturbing her temple rubbing.

Now that Tully was out of her line of vision he could safely steal a glance at her shiny, strawberry-blond hair. The woman was definitely attractive. Suddenly, she turned to look up at him.

“No really, what makes you think fear is the only way to go?”

“Fear’s usually what works best on that age group,” he told her.

This time O’Dell looked over her shoulder. “Isn’t that exactly what you told me the other day, Gwen?”

“Not exactly. I said fear most likely made them think they didn’t have an alternative when their natural instinct should have been to fight. But from what I understand, this boy spit his cyanide capsule out. Which would tell me that fear might not be a motivating factor for him.”

“That’s not necessarily true,” Tully said, and realized he was already feeling defensive. Why did she do that to him? He wasn’t a defensive kind of guy. But now both Patterson and O’Dell were waiting for an explanation. “I know you think spitting the cyanide out could be a sign of him wanting to stick around to fight. But maybe he was simply scared to die. Isn’t that possible?”

“Whoever convinced these boys to take cyanide certainly would have convinced them that they would be tortured and killed if taken alive.” Dr. Patterson was no longer relaxing. Even her legs had come out from under her. “That this boy was willing to take that chance tells me that he’s looking for and hoping for a safe haven.”

“Really? You can tell all that even before you’ve met the kid.”

“Okay, you two.” O’Dell put up her hands in mock surrender. “Maybe I should be going to Boston with you, Gwen.”

“You need to talk to your mother,” Gwen answered, keeping her eyes on Tully as if planning her next offensive.

“You promise you two won’t kill each other?” O’Dell smiled.

“I’m sure we’ll be fine,” Gwen said, smiling at O’Dell. However, O’Dell seemed to be waiting for confirmation from Tully.

“We’ll be fine,” he said, now anxious to change the subject, because even though Patterson made him defensive, she hadn’t realized her skirt was still hiked up to her thighs. He turned back to the computer screen. “What did you find?”

“I have no idea if it’s the same Joseph Everett, but at twenty-two years of age and from Arlington, Virginia, it could very well be. He was charged with rape. The nineteen-year-old girl was a second-year journalism student at the University of Virginia.”

The phone suddenly rang, and O’Dell grabbed it. “O’Dell.”

Tully pretended to read the computer screen, trying to keep his attention away from Patterson.

“What makes you think that?” O’Dell asked, then waited. Whoever it was hadn’t given much of an explanation. O’Dell frowned as she said, “Okay, I’ll be there.”

She hung up the phone. “That was Racine,” she said, swiveling her chair back to the computer. “I’ll print out copies,” she told Tully as she hit the print icon, listened for the printer to groan into action, then started closing down the Internet site. “She thinks she has something I need to take a look at.”

There was an emphasis on “she thinks” and enough sarcasm to prompt Tully to try again. “What is it with you and Racine?”

“I told you. I don’t trust her.”

“No. You told me you didn’t like her.”

“Same thing,” she said as she whipped two copies from the printer tray, handing one to Tully and folding the other for herself. “Any chance you could check if this is our Joseph Everett before you leave?”

“Sure. If he has a criminal conviction for rape, it’ll be easy to track.”

“Unfortunately, this is all we’ve got.” She held up her copy. “There won’t be any other documents. The girl dropped the charges.” She put on her jacket, then stopped and looked from Tully to Gwen. “Everett must have been good at instilling fear, even back then.”