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sighed deeply. “I think I know just the kind of monster we’re looking for. And I know who to call to help find him.”

5

July 27

12:07 PM

George Washington University Hospital

900 23rd St., NW

Washington, D.C.

FBI Profiler Karen Vail walked the hospital hallway with her son, Jonathan, and DEA Special Agent Robby Hernandez. Vail and Robby were both off duty, a rare Saturday when they had time to decompress, grab lunch at Charlie Palmer’s, and then a late afternoon movie. They left their case folders on their desks, their problems neatly tucked away in a file drawer, and all concerns of serial murders and drug cartels out of reach of their collective consciousness.

Robby’s shoulder was still in a sling, recovering from a gunshot wound he had sustained two months ago. But the injury had an unforeseen, nonmedical side effect: Jonathan got a kick out of handily beating the one-armed Robby in every video game in the teen’s arsenal, so they played together at every opportunity. Robby represented the positive male presence Jonathan lacked, and Jonathan gave Robby the father-son relationship he had wanted but not yet experienced.

With various bruises and lacerations now healed and a knee that finally felt whole following recent surgery, Vail had found peace being at home after a tenuous two weeks in the Napa Valley. What started as a dream vacation had degraded into a recurring nightmare that, for a while, Vail had difficulty awakening from.

But Vail and Robby were not at the hospital for their ailments; they were visiting a friend and colleague, Mandisa Manette, who had been shot in front of the White House just before Vail and Robby left for Napa. It had taken three surgeries thus far, but she was making steady progress and had begun rehabilitation.

Jonathan insisted on waiting in the hall, choosing instead to trade text messages with his friends.

“We won’t be long,” Vail said.

Jonathan already had his phone out, eyes riveted to the screen. “Take your time.”

Robby reached out to pull open the Physical Therapy department door, but Vail slapped her hand against the wood panel. “You think she’ll be glad to see us?”

“Why wouldn’t she be?”

Vail bobbed her head. “Every time she and I get together it turns into a major ordeal.”

“I could say the same thing, but that doesn’t stop me from seeing you.”

Vail elbowed him in the side. Robby pulled open the door.

Gripping two wooden parallel bars was Detective Mandisa Manette. Her normal corn-rowed hair was pulled back into a bun, disheveled and in need of a shampoo. Rather than the lithe, athletic detective, Manette was having difficulty negotiating the normally automatic movement of walking. The therapist’s gaze snapped up—causing Manette to stop and twist her body.

“Jesus Christ. Kari, what the hell are you doing here?”

“Good to see you, too,” Vail said. She turned to Robby. “See what I mean?”

“Robby,” Manette said. “You still dating this crystal ball psychic magician?”

Robby grinned broadly, then stepped forward and gave Manette a hug. “How are you doing?”

“Better than you,” she said. “What’s up with the sling?”

“Same as you. GSW. No big deal, I’m back on the job already.”

“Sequestered in this hospital, I tend to be a little out of touch. Especially when people don’t visit you.”

“I was here last week,” Vail said.

“I don’t consider you ‘people,’” Manette said. “I mean real flesh-and-blood humans.”

“Sounds like you’re doing well,” Robby said. “Getting back to your old self.” He gestured toward her with a raise of his chin. “How’s your hip coming along?”

“I got me a brand new one, titanium or some shit like that. Bionic space-age technology. I’m going to be faster, stronger than before.”

“Yeah,” Vail said. “And she’ll be able to leap tall buildings in a single bound.”

“I got a doc who’s got a bedside manner just like yours,” Manette said. “I slapped him upside the head. He’s much nicer to me now.” She shifted her weight and grabbed the parallel bars. “If he wasn’t such a hunk, I’da fired his ass the first day.”

Vail’s phone rang. Her hand sprung to the holster and silenced it, then pulled it free. Glanced at the display and said to Robby, “It’s your father.”

Robby rolled his eyes. “Will you stop saying that every time your boss calls you?”

Vail feigned innocence.

“What’s that?” Manette asked. “Vail’s ASAC’s your father?” She looked back and forth at both of them. “Man, Kari. You don’t tell me nothin’. Sounds like I missed some juicy shit wasting away in this here hospital.”

“Juicy shit, indeed.” Vail turned and answered the call.

“Karen,” Thomas Gifford said. “Sorry to bother you on a Saturday. But something’s come up.”

“I think this is the part where I make believe there’s static on the line and then press the END button.”

“I’m serious, Karen. I’ve got something here.”

“And you’ve got at least eleven other profilers you can call.”

“The one I really need has retired. And he’s out of the country so I can’t even give him a shout. So you’re it.”

“Robby and I have plans with Jonathan for a movie later.”

“Take a rain check. A detective just called the unit with a fresh eighty-two-year-old female, sexually assaulted and murdered.”

“So you want Mark Safarik. He’s the world expert on the sexual homicide of elderly females—”

“Yes, yes,” Gifford said. “But like I said, he’s unreachable. And I know you worked with him before he retired and coauthored his last paper.”

Vail sighed. “So I’m the pinch hitter.”

“For lack of a better term, yeah.”

Vail looked at Robby and gave him a thumbs down sign. “Where and when?”

“We’ve got you booked on a flight to San Francisco leaving out of Reagan in two hours.”

“San Francisco? Wait, I get it. This is a joke, right? I had the nightmare of my life in Napa, so you’re sending me back there a few months after I got out of that godforsaken place. Good one, sir.” She pressed END and disconnected the call.

“Problem?” Robby asked.

Her BlackBerry rang again seconds later. Vail looked at the phone, then at Robby.

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