TULLY ripped off the latest fax that had just come in from Kansas City. He jammed it into a file folder, adding it to the pile in his arms, and headed down the hall. The waitress’s murder looked more and more like the work of Albert Stucky. No one else would deliver the woman’s kidney to O’Dell’s hotel room.

“Good morning, Anita,” he greeted the gray-haired secretary who looked impeccable at any hour of the day. She waved him by. Everyone knew not to set foot into the assistant director’s office until Anita gave the signal.

Cunningham was on the phone, but nodded to Tully and pointed to a chair.

“Yes, I understand,” Cunningham said. “Of course I will.” He hung up, as was his usual manner, without a goodbye. He adjusted his glasses, sipped coffee, then looked at Tully. Despite the crisp white shirt and perfectly knotted tie, his eyes betrayed him. Swollen from too little sleep, the red lines were magnified by the bifocal half of his glasses.

“Before we get started,” he said, “do you have any information on Walker Harding?”

“I’m sorry, sir, I don’t recognize the name Walker Harding.”

“He was Albert Stucky’s business partner,” a woman’s voice answered from the open doorway.

Tully twisted in his chair to look at the young, dark-haired woman. She was attractive and wore a navy trouser suit.

“Agent O’Dell, please come in.” Cunningham stood and pointed to the chair next to Tully.

Tully stared up at her, shuffling his files, awkwardly shoving them aside.

“Special Agent Margaret O’Dell, this is Special Agent R. J. Tully.”

The chair wobbled as Tully stood and shook O’Dell’s hand. Immediately he was impressed with her firm grip and the way she looked directly into his eyes.

“Pleased to meet you, Agent Tully.”

She was professional. There was no trace of what she had gone through last night. This didn’t look like an agent on the verge of mental collapse.

“The pleasure is mine, Agent O’Dell. I’ve heard a great deal about you.”

“Why were you asking about Walker Harding?” O’Dell asked as she sat down.

“For Agent Tully’s benefit,” Cunningham began explaining, “Walker Harding and Albert Stucky started an Internet stock-trading business, one of the first of its kind, in the early 1990s. They ended up making millions.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think I have any information on him,” Tully said as he riffled through his files, double-checking.

“You probably don’t.” Cunningham sounded apologetic. “Harding was out of the picture long before Stucky took up his new hobby. He and Stucky sold their company, split their millions and went their separate ways. There was no reason for any of us to know about Walker Harding.”

“I’m not sure I follow,” Tully said. “Is there some reason why we should now?”

Cunningham sat back and made a tent with his fingertips. “Walker Harding became a recluse after he and Stucky sold their business. Practically disappeared off the face of the earth. There seems to be virtually no records, no transactions, no sign of the man.”

“Then what does this have to do with Stucky?” Tully was puzzled.

“I checked the airline schedules within the past week for flights going from Dulles or Reagan National to Kansas City.” He looked from Tully to O’Dell. “I was looking for any of the aliases Stucky has used in the past. That’s when I noticed that there was a ticket sold for a KC flight, Sunday afternoon out of Dulles, to a Walker Harding.”

Cunningham waited, looking for some reaction. Tully watched, tapping his foot nervously but not impressed with the information.

“Excuse me, sir, for saying so, but that may not mean much. It may not even be the same man.”

“Perhaps not. However, Agent Tully, I suggest you find out whatever you can about Walker Harding.”

“Assistant Director Cunningham, why am I here?” Agent O’Dell asked politely but with enough candor to indicate she wasn’t willing to continue without an answer. “I mean no disrespect, but the three of us are sitting here talking about a ticket that may or may not have been issued to a man who Stucky may or may not have talked to for years. Yet, there is one thing that we can be certain of—Albert Stucky murdered a woman in Kansas City, and most likely he is still there.”

Cunningham sat forward, leaning elbows on his desk and looking as though he had been ambushed in a chess match. But now he was ready for his move, his turn.

“Saturday night about twenty miles from here, a young woman was found murdered, her body tossed into a Dumpster, her spleen surgically removed and placed inside a discarded pizza box.”

“Saturday?” Agent O’Dell fidgeted while she calculated the time-line. “Kansas City is not a copycat. He left the goddamn kidney at my door.”

Tully winced. Forget chess. This would be more like a showdown at the OK Corral. Cunningham, however, didn’t blink.

“The young woman was a pizza delivery person. She was taken while delivering her route.”

Agent O’Dell became agitated, crossing her legs, then uncrossing them as if restraining her words. Tully knew she had to be exhausted.

Cunningham continued, “She had to have been taken somewhere close by. Perhaps in the neighborhood. He raped and sodomized her, slit her throat and removed her spleen.”

“By sodomized are you saying he raped her himself from behind or with another item?”

Tully couldn’t see a difference. Wasn’t either hideous enough? Cunningham looked to him for the answer. This, unfortunately, he could answer without digging through a single file. The young girl had looked too much like Emma for him not to remember every detail.

“There was no semen left behind, but the medical examiner seemed convinced it was penile stimulation. There were no traces or remnants that a foreign object might leave behind.”

“Stucky’s never done that before.” O’Dell sat at the edge of her chair, suddenly animated. “He wouldn’t do that. He likes to watch their faces. He enjoys seeing their fear. He wouldn’t be able to see that from behind.”

Cunningham tapped his fingertips on the desk. “The young woman delivered a pizza to your new home the night she was murdered.”

Cunningham and Tully watched O’Dell. She sat back, looking from one to the other. Tully saw the realization in her eyes. He expected to see fear, maybe anger. It surprised him to find what looked like resignation.

“That’s why I’m guessing it didn’t matter that you stayed in Kansas City. He’ll follow you. Albert Stucky is pulling you into this, no matter what I do to keep you out of it.”

“And by keeping me out of it, sir, you’re taking away my only defense.” O’Dell’s voice had an undeniable quiver to it. Tully saw her bite down on her lower lip. Was it to restrain her words or control the quiver?

“Agent Tully has requested that you assist him on the case.”

O’Dell stared at Tully with surprise. He found himself embarrassed and not sure why.

“I’ve decided to grant Agent Tully’s request on two conditions, neither of which I’m willing to negotiate.” Cunningham leaned forward again, hands fisted together. “Number one, Agent Tully is to remain the lead on this investigation. I expect you to share all information. You will not go off on a wild-goose chase or check on hunches without Agent Tully accompanying you. Is that understood?”

“Of course,” she answered, her voice now strong and firm again.

“Number two. I want you to see the Bureau’s psychologist.”

“Sir, I really don’t think—”

“Agent O’Dell, I said there will be no negotiating. I’ll leave it up to Dr. Kernan as to how many times he wants to see you each week.”

“Dr. James Kernan?” O’Dell seemed appalled.

“That’s right. I had Anita set up your first appointment. Check with her on your way out for the time. She’s also setting up an office for you. Agent Tully occupies your old one. Now, if the two of you will excuse me.” He sat back, dismissing them. “I have another appointment.”

Tully gathered his mess and waited for O’Dell at the door. For a woman who had just been given what she had wanted for the past five months, she looked more agitated than relieved.