Rachel Walling rode the escalator down into the cavernous baggage pickup area at McCarran International. She had carried her luggage during the journey from South Dakota but the airport was designed so that every passenger had to go this way. The escalator landing area was crowded with people waiting. Limo drivers held signs with the names of their clients, others just held up signs that announced the names of hotels or casinos or tour companies. The cacophony rising from the room assaulted her as she descended. It was nothing like the airport where she had started her travels that morning.

Cherie Dei was going to meet her. Rachel had not seen the fellow FBI agent in four years and that was only a brief interaction in Amsterdam. It had been eight years since she had really spent any kind of time with her and she wasn't sure she would recognize her or that she would be recognized herself.

It didn't matter. As she searched the sea of faces and signs it was a sign that caught her eye. BOB BACKUS

The woman holding it was smiling at her. Her idea of a joke. Rachel approached, without returning the smile.

Cherie Dei had reddish brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. She was attractive and trim with a good smile, her eyes still with a lot of light in them. Rachel thought she looked more like the mother of a couple of Catholic school kids than a serial killer hunter.

Dei extended her hand. They shook and Dei proffered the sign.

"I know, bad joke, but I knew it would get your attention."

"Yes, it did."

"Did you have a long layover in Chicago?"

"A few hours. Not much choice flying out of Rapid City. Denver or Chicago. I like the food better at O'Hare."

"Do you have bags?"

"No, just this. We can go."

Rachel was carrying one bag-a midsize duffel. She had packed only a few changes of clothing. Dei pointed toward one of the banks of glass doors and they headed that way.

"We got you in at the Embassy Suites where the rest of us are staying. We almost didn't but they had a cancellation. The town is crowded because of the fight."

"What fight?"

"I don't know. Some super heavyweight or junior middleweight boxing match at one of the casinos. I didn't pay attention. I just know it's the reason this place gets so crowded." Rachel knew that Cherie was talking because she was nervous. She didn't know the reason for this, whether anything had happened or it was simply because Rachel had to be handled carefully in this situation.

"If you want we can go to the hotel, get you settled in there. You could even take some time to rest if you want. There's a meeting later at the FO. You could start there if-"

"No. I'd like to go to the scene."

They stepped through the automatic glass doors and Rachel felt the dry Nevada air. It wasn't at all as hot as she'd expected and packed for. It was cool and crisp, even in the direct sun. She took out her sunglasses and decided the jacket she had worn to the airport in South Dakota would be needed here. It was stuffed into her bag.

"Rachel, the scene is two hours from here. Are you sure you-"

"Yes. Take me there. I'd like to start there."

"Start what?"

"I don't know. Whatever it is that he wants me to start."

This seemed to give Dei pause. She didn't respond. They walked into the parking garage and found her car-a government Crown Vic so dirty that it looked like it was in desert camouflage.

Once they were driving, Dei took out a cell phone and made a call. Rachel heard her tell someone-probably her boss or partner or the scene supervisor-that she had picked up the package and would be taking it to the scene. There was a long pause as the person she'd called responded at length. Then she said good-bye and hung up. "You are cleared to the scene, Rachel, but you have to step back. You're here as an observer, okay?"

"What are you talking about? I'm an FBI agent, same as you."

"But you're not in Behavioral anymore. This is not your case."

"You're saying I am here because Backus wants me here, not you people."

"Rachel, let's try to get off to a better start than we did in Am-"

"Anything new come up so far today?"

"We're up to ten bodies now. They think that's going to be it At least for this location."

"IDs?"

"They're getting there. What they have is tentative but they're putting it all together."

"Is Brass Doran at the scene?"

"No, she is in Quantico. She's work-"

"She should be here. Don't you people know what you've got here? She-"

"Whoa, Rachel, slow down, okay? Let's get something straight here. I'm the case agent on this, okay? You are not running this investigation. This is not going to work if you confuse that."

"But Backus is talking to me. He called me out"

"And that's why you are here. But you aren't calling the shots, Rachel. You have to stand to the side and watch. And I have to tell you I don't like how this is starting out. This isn't Driving Miss Rachel. You mentored me but that was ten years ago. I've now been in Behavioral longer than you ever were and I've booked more cases than you ever did. So don't talk down to me and don't act like my mentor or my mother."

Rachel didn't respond at first and then she simply asked Dei to pull over so she could get her jacket out of her bag, which was in the trunk. Dei pulled into the Travel America on Blue Diamond Road and popped the trunk.

When Rachel got back into the car she was wearing a baggy black all-weather coat that looked like it might have been designed for a man. Dei didn't say anything about it.

"Thanks," Rachel said. "And you're right. I apologize. I guess you get like me when it turns out your boss-your mentor-is the same evil thing you've been hunting all your life. And they punish you for it."

"I understand that, Rachel. But it wasn't just Backus. It was a lot of things. The reporter, some of the choices you made. Some people say you were lucky you still had a job at the end of it"

Rachel's face grew hot. She was being reminded that she was one of the bureau's embarrassments. Even within the ranks. Even with the agent she had mentored. She had slept with a reporter working on her case. That was the shorthand version. It didn't matter that it was a reporter who was actually a part of the case, who was working with Rachel side by side and hour by hour. The shorthand version would always be the story that agents heard and whispered about. A reporter. Was there a lower breach in agent behavior and etiquette? Maybe a mobster or a spy, but nothing else.

"Five years in North Dakota followed by a promotion to South Dakota," she said weakly. "Yeah, I was lucky all right." "Look, I know you paid the price. My point is that you have to know your place here. Use some finesse. A lot of people are watching this case. If you play it right it could be your ticket back in."

"Got it."

"Good."

Rachel reached down to the side of her seat and adjusted it so she could lean back.

"How long did you say?" she asked.

"About two hours. We've been using choppers from Nellis mostly, saves a lot of time."

"Hasn't drawn attention?"

She was asking about the media, whether news of the investigation in the desert had leaked yet.

"We've had a few fires to put out but so far it is holding up. The scene is in California and we're working it out of Nevada. I think that has somehow kept the lid on. To be honest, there are some people worried about you now."

Rachel thought about Jack McEvoy, the reporter, for a moment.

"Nobody has to worry," she said. "I don't even know where he is."

"Well, if this thing finally hits the radar, you can expect to see him. He wrote a bestselling book on the first go-round. I guarantee he'll be back for the sequel."