"C'mon," she said. "Try to forget about that for now. Let's go get you some new things. We can't have those reporters thinking you're one of us anymore."

She smiled and I returned it weakly and let her push me toward the mall.

We met back in the conference room of the field office at six-thirty. Backus was there, trying to work out the logistics with the phone, along with Thompson, Matuzak, Mize and three agents I hadn't been introduced to. I put my shopping bag under the conference table. It contained two new shirts, a pair of pants and a package of underwear and socks. I immediately wished I had changed into one of the new shirts because the introduced agents studied me and my FBI shirt with grim looks that suggested I had committed some kind of sacrilege by trying to impersonate an agent. Backus told whoever he was talking with to call him back when it was set up and then hung up.

"Okay," he said. "We start the full meeting as soon as they have the phones set up. Meantime, let's talk about Phoenix. Beginning tomorrow I want to start a ground-zero investigation of both the detective and the boy. Both cases, from the top. What I'd like-Oh, I'm sorry. Rachel, Jack, this is Vince Pool, SAC Phoenix. He's going to give us whatever we need."

Pool, who looked like he had twenty-five years on the job, the most of anyone in the room, nodded at us and said nothing. Backus didn't bother to introduce the other men.

"We have the meeting with the locals tomorrow at oh nine hundred," Backus said.

"I think we'll be able to brush them aside gently," Pool said.

"Well, we don't want any animosity. These are the fellows who knew Orsulak the best. They'll be good sources. I think we have to bring them into this but remain firmly in control."

"No problem."

"This one may be our best chance. It's fresh. We've got to hope the offender made a mistake and between these two deaths, the boy and the detective, we can find it. I'd like to see-"

The phone on the table buzzed and Backus picked up the receiver and said hello.

"Hold on."

He pushed a button on the phone and hung up the receiver.

"Brass, you there?"

"Here, boss."

"Okay, let's run down the list, see who've we got."

Agents from six cities announced their presence on the speaker.

"Okay, good. I want this to be as informal as possible. Why don't we go round-robin to see what people have. Brass, I'd like to finish up with you. So Florida. Is that you, Ted?"

"Uh, yes sir, with Steve, here. We are just getting our feet wet on this and hope to have more by tomorrow. But there are some anomalies here that we think are already worth noting."

"Go ahead."

"Uh, this is the first, or believed to be the first, of the Poet's stops. Clifford Beltran. The second incident-in Baltimore-did not take place until nearly ten months later. That is the longest interval we have as well. This leads us to possibly question the randomness of this first kill."

"You think the Poet knew Beltran?" Rachel asked.

"It's possible. At the moment, though, it's just a hunch we are working. There are a few other things that when thrown into the stew are worth taking a look at in support, however. First, this is the only one with a shotgun. We checked the autopsy file today and they aren't pretty pictures. Total obliteration with both barrels. We all know the symbolic pathology of that."

"Overkill," Backus said. "Suggesting knowledge or acquaintance of the victim."

"Right. Next we have the weapon itself. According to reports, it was an old Smith and Wesson that Beltran kept in a closet, on a top shelf out of sight. This information is attributed in the reports to his sister. Beltran had never married and lived in the house he grew up in. We haven't talked to the sister ourselves. The point is, if this was a suicide, yeah, fine, he went to the closet and got out the shotgun. But now we come along and say this was no suicide."

"How did the Poet know the shotgun was up there on the shelf?" Rachel said.

"Riiiiiight… How did he know?"

"Good one, Ted, Steve," Backus said. "I like it. What else?"

"The last thing is kind of sticky. Is the reporter there?"

Everyone in the room looked at me.

"Yes," Backus said. "But we are still off the record. You can say what you were going to say. Right, Jack?"

I nodded and then realized they wouldn't see this in all the other cities.

"That's right," I said. "We're off the record."

"Okay, well, this is mere speculation at this time and we're not sure how it fits but we have this. On the autopsy of the first victim, the boy, Gabriel Ortiz, the coroner concluded, based on examination of the anal glands and muscles, that the boy was the victim of long-term molestation. If the boy's killer was also his abuser over a period of time, then this does not fit with our pattern of random selection and acquisition of victims. So that seems unlikely to us.

"However, looking at it from Beltran's point of view three years ago of not having the benefit of our knowledge, something here doesn't fit. He had this one case, knew nothing about the others we know about now. When the autopsy came back concluding the boy was the victim of long-term molestation, it stands to reason that Beltran should have jumped all over that and looked for the abuser as suspect numero uno."

"He didn't?"

"No. He headed a team of three detectives and he directed almost all investigative work toward the park where the boy had been abducted after school. I got this off the record from one of the guys on the team. He said he suggested a wider focus looking into the boy's background but Beltran turned him down.

"Now the good stuff. My source at the sheriff's tells me Beltran specifically asked for the investigation. He wanted it. After he supposedly offed himself, my source did some checking and it turns out Beltran had known the kid through a local social services program called Best Pals, which puts fatherless boys with adults. Like a Big Brother program. Beltran was a cop, so he had no trouble going through the screening process. He was the boy's Best Pal. I'm sure you can all take it from there."

"You think perhaps Beltran was the boy's molester?" Backus asked.

"It's possible. I think that's what my source was driving at but he won't put it on the line. Everybody's dead. It was written off. They're not going to go public with a story like that. Not with one of their own and sheriff being an elective office."

I watched Backus nod his head.

"That's to be expected."

There was silence for a few moments.

"Ted, Steve, this is all very interesting," Backus said. "But how does it fit? Is it just an interesting offshoot or are you seeing something there?"

"We're not sure ourselves. But if you say Beltran was a molester, a pedophile no less, and add that he was put down with a shotgun that somebody knew was on the top shelf of the closet because he knew Beltran, then we are getting into an area I think we should explore further."

"I agree. Tell us, what else did your source know about Beltran and Best Pals?"

"He said he was told that Beltran had been with Best Pals for a long time. He'd been with a lot of boys, we assume."

"And that is where you will pursue this, correct?"

"We'll hit it hard in the morning. Nothing we can do with it tonight."

Backus nodded and put a finger to his mouth in a contemplative gesture.

"Brass?" Backus said. "What do you think of all of this? How would that play with the psychopathology?"

"Children are a string all through this. So are homicide cops. We just don't have a handle yet on what this guy is all about. I think this is something that should be pursued vigorously."