Dance's badge appeared.

Tammy glanced at it.

"You're looking pretty good, all things considered."

"It was so cold," Tammy said. "I've never been so cold in my life. I'm still pretty freaked."

"I'm sure you are."

The girl's attention swerved to the TV screen. A soap opera was on. Dance and Maggie watched them from time to time, usually when the girl was home sick from school. You could miss months and still come back and figure out the story perfectly.

Dance sat down and looked at the balloons and flowers on a nearby table, instinctively searching for red roses or religious gifts or cards emblazoned with crosses. There were none.

"How long are you going to be in the hospital?"

"I'm getting out today, probably. Maybe tomorrow, they said."

"How're the doctors? Cute?"

A laugh.

"Where do you go to school?"

"Robert Louis Stevenson."

"Senior?"

"Yeah, in the fall."

To put the girl at ease, Dance made small talk: asking about whether she was in summer school, if she'd thought about what college she wanted to attend, her family, sports. "You have any vacations plans?"

"We do now," she said. "After this. My mom and sister and me are going to visit my grandmother in Florida next week." There was exasperation in her voice and Dance could tell that the last thing the girl wanted to do was go to Florida with the family.

"Tammy, you can imagine, we really want to find whoever did this to you."

"Asshole."

Dance lifted an agreeing eyebrow. "Tell me what happened."

Tammy explained about being at a club and leaving just after midnight. She was in the parking lot when somebody came up from behind, taped her mouth, hands and feet, threw her in the trunk and then drove to the beach.

"He just left me there to, like, drown." The girl's eyes were hollow. Dance, empathetic by nature-a gift from her mother-could feel the horror herself, a hurting tickle down her spine.

"Did you know the attacker?"

The girl shook her head. "But I know what happened."

"What's that?"

"Gangs."

"He was in a gang?"

"Yeah, everybody knows about it. To get into a gang, you have to kill somebody. And if you're in a Latino gang you have to kill a white girl. Those're the rules."

"You think the perp was Latino?"

"Yeah, I'm sure he was. I didn't see his face but got a look at his hand. It was darker, you know. Not black. But he definitely wasn't a white guy."

"How big was he?"

"Not tall. About five-six. But really, really strong. Oh, something else. I think last night I said it was just one guy. But I remembered this morning. There were two of them."

"You saw two of them?"

"More, I could feel somebody else nearby, you know how that happens?"

"Could it have been a woman?"

"Oh, yeah, maybe. I don't know. Like I was saying, I was pretty freaked out."

"Did anybody touch you?"

"No, not that way. Just to put tape on me and throw me in the trunk." Her eyes flashed with anger.

"Do you remember anything about the drive?"

"No, I was too scared. I think I heard some clanks or something, some noise from inside the car."

"Not the trunk?"

"No. Like metal or something, I thought. He put it in the car after he got me in the trunk. I saw this movie, one of the Saw movies. And I thought maybe he was going to use whatever it was to torture me."

The bike, Dance was thinking, recalling the tread marks at the beach. He'd brought a bicycle with him for his escape. She suggested this, but Tammy said that wasn't it; there was no way to get a bike in the backseat. She added gravely. "And it didn't sound like a bike."

"Okay, Tammy." Dance adjusted her glasses and kept looking at the girl, who glanced at the flowers and cards and stuffed animals. The girl added, "Look at everything people gave me. That bear there, isn't he the best?"

"He's cute, yep… So you're thinking it was some Latino kids in a gang."

"Yeah. But…well, you know, like now, it's kind of over with."

"Over with?"

"I mean, I didn't get killed. Just a little wet." A laugh as she avoided Dance's eyes. "They're definitely freaking. It's all over the news. I'll bet they're gone. I mean, maybe even left town."

It was certainly true that gangs had initiation rites. And some involved murder. But killings were rarely outside the race or ethnicity of the gang and were most often directed at rival gang members or informants. Besides, what had happened to Tammy was too elaborate. Dance knew from running gang crimes that they were business first; time is money and the less spent on extracurricular activities the better.

Dance had already decided that Tammy didn't think her attacker was a Latino gangbanger at all. Nor did she believe there were two of them.

In fact, Tammy knew more about the perp than she was letting on.

It was time to get to the truth.

The process of kinesic analysis in interviewing and interrogation is first to establish a baseline-a catalog of behaviors that subjects exhibit when telling the truth: Where do they put their hands, where do they look and how often, do they swallow or clear their throats often, do they lace their speech with "Uhm," do they tap their feet, do they slouch or sit forward, do they hesitate before answering?

Once the truthful baseline is determined, the kinesic expert will note any deviations from it when the subject is asked questions to which he or she might have reason to answer falsely. When most people lie, they feel stress and anxiety and try to relieve those unpleasant sensations with gestures or speech patterns that differ from the baseline. One of Dance's favorite quotes came from a man who predated the coining of the term "kinesics" by a hundred years: Charles Darwin, who said, "Repressed emotion almost always comes to the surface in some form of body motion."

When the subject of the attacker's identity had arisen, Dance observed that the girl's body language changed from her baseline: She shifted her hips uneasily and a foot bobbed. Arms and hands are fairly easy for liars to control but we're much less aware of the rest of our body, especially toes and feet.

Dance also noted other changes: in the pitch of the girl's voice, fingers flipping her hair and "blocking gestures," touching her mouth and nose. Tammy also offered unnecessary digressions, she rambled and she made overgeneralized statements ("Everybody knows about it"), typical of someone who's lying.

Convinced that the girl was withholding information, Kathryn Dance now slipped into her analytic mode. Her approach to getting a subject to be honest consisted of four parts. First, she asked: What's the subject's role in the incident? Here, Tammy was a victim and a witness only, Dance concluded. She wasn't a participant-either involved in another crime or staging her own abduction.

Second, what's the motive to lie? The answer, it was pretty clear, was that the poor girl was terrified of reprisal. This was common, and made Dance's job easier than if Tammy's motive were to cover up her own criminal behavior.

The third question: What's the subject's general personality type? This determination would suggest what approach Dance should adopt in pursuing the interrogation-should she, for instance, be aggressive or gentle; work toward problem solving or offer emotional support; behave in a friendly manner or detached? Dance categorized her subjects according to attributes in the Myers-Briggs personality type indicator, which assesses whether someone is an extravert or introvert, thinking or feeling, sensing or intuitive.

The distinction between extravert and introvert is about attitude. Does the subject act first and then assess the results (an extravert), or reflect before acting (introvert)? Information gathering is carried out either by trusting the five senses and verifying data (sensing) or relying on hunches (intuitive). Decision making occurs by either objective, logical analysis (thinking) or by making choices based on empathy (feeling).