"Now, in speaking of the leader, I'll tend to say 'he,' but women can be just as effective and as ruthless as men. And often they're more devious.

"So here's the basic profile. A cult leader isn't accountable to any authority except his own. He's always in charge one hundred percent. He dictates how the subjects spend every minute of their time. He'll assign work and keep them occupied, even if it's just busywork. They should never have any free time to think independently.

"A cult leader creates his own morality-which is defined solely as what's good for him and what will perpetuate the cult. External laws are irrelevant. He'll make the subjects believe it's morally right to do what he tells them-or what he suggests. Cult leaders are masters at getting their message across in very subtle ways, so that even if they're caught on a wiretap their comments won't incriminate them specifically. But the subjects understand the shorthand.

"He'll polarize issues and create conflicts based on them versus us, black and white. The cult is right and anyone who's not in the cult is wrong and wants to destroy them.

"He won't allow any dissent. He'll take extreme views, outrageous views, and wait for a subject to question him-to test loyalty. Subjects are expected to give everything to him-their time, their money."

Dance recalled the prison conversation, the $9,200. She said, "Sounds like the woman is financing Pell's whole escape."

Kellogg nodded. "They're also expected to make their bodies available. And hand over their children sometimes.

"He'll exercise absolute control over the subjects. They have to give up their pasts. He'll give them new names, something he chooses. He'll tend to pick vulnerable people and play on their insecurities. He looks for loners and makes them abandon their friends and family. They come to see him as a source of support and nurture. He'll threaten to withhold himself from them-and that's his most powerful weapon.

"Okay, I could go on for hours but that gives you a rough idea of Daniel Pell's thought processes." Kellogg lifted his hands. He seemed like a professor. "What does all this mean for us? For one thing, it says something about his vulnerabilities. It's tiring to be a cult leader. You have to monitor your members constantly, look for dissension, eradicate it as soon as you find it. So when external influences exist-like out on the street-they're particularly wary. In their own environments, though, they're more relaxed. And therefore more careless and vulnerable.

"Look at what happened at that restaurant. He was constantly monitoring, because he was in public. If he'd been in his own house, you probably would've gotten him.

"The other implication is this: The accomplice, that woman, will believe Pell is morally right and that he's justified in killing. That means two things: We won't get any help from her, and she's as dangerous as he is. Yes, she's a victim, but that doesn't mean she won't kill you if she has a chance… Well, those are some general thoughts."

Dance glanced at O'Neil. She knew he had the same reaction as hers: impressed with Kellogg's knowledge of his specialty. Maybe, for once, Charles Overby had made a good decision, even if his motive was to cover his ass.

Still, though, thinking of what he'd told them about Pell, she was dismayed at what they were up against. She had firsthand knowledge of the killer's intelligence, but if Kellogg's profile was even partially correct the man seemed a particularly dangerous threat.

Dance thanked Kellogg, and the meeting broke up-O'Neil headed for the hospital to check on Juan Millar, TJ to find a temporary office for the FBI agent.

Dance pulled out her mobile and found Linda Whitfield's phone number in the recent-calls log. She hit redial.

"Oh, Agent Dance. Have you heard anything new?"

"No, I'm afraid not."

"We've been listening to the radio… I heard you almost caught him yesterday."

"That's right."

More muttering. Prayer again, Dance assumed.

"Ms. Whitfield?"

"I'm here."

"I'm going to ask you something and I'd like you to think about it before you answer."

"Go on."

"We'd like you to come here and help us."

"What?" she whispered.

"Daniel Pell is a mystery to us. We're pretty sure he's staying on the Peninsula. But we can't figure out why. Nobody knows him better than you, Samantha and Rebecca. We're hoping you can help us figure it out."

"Are they coming?"

"You're the first one I've called."

A pause. "But what could I possibly do?"

"I want to talk to you about him, see if you can think of anything that suggests what his plans might be, where he might be going."

"But I haven't heard from him in seven or eight years."

"There could be something he said or did back then that'll give us a clue. He's taking a big risk staying here. I'm sure he has a reason."

"Well…"

Dance was familiar with how mental defense processes work. She could imagine the woman's brain frantically looking for-and rejecting or holding on to-reasons why she couldn't do what the agent asked. She wasn't surprised when she heard, "The problem is I'm helping my brother and sister-in-law with their foster children. I can't just up and leave."

Dance remembered that she lived with the couple. She asked if they could handle the children for a day or two. "It won't be any longer than that."

"I don't think they could, no."

The verb "think" has great significance to interrogators. It's a denial flag expression-like "I don't remember" or "probably not." Its meaning: I'm hedging but not flatly saying no. The message to Dance was that the couple could easily handle the children.

"I know it's a lot to ask. But we need your help."

After a pause the woman offered excuse two: "And even if I could get away I don't have any money to travel."

"We'll fly you in a private jet."

"Private?"

"An FBI jet."

"Oh, my."

Dance dealt with excuse three before it was raised: "And you'll be under very tight security. No one will know you're here, and you'll be guarded twenty-four hours a day. Please. Will you help us?"

More silence.

"I'll have to ask."

"Your brother, your supervisor at work? I can give them a call and-"

"No, no, not them. I mean Jesus."

Oh…"Well, okay." After a pause Dance asked, "Could you check with Him pretty soon?"

"I'll call you back, Agent Dance."

They hung up. Dance called Winston Kellogg and let him know they were awaiting divine intervention regarding Whitfield. He seemed amused. "That's one long-distance call." Dance decided she definitely wouldn't let Charles Overby know whose permission was required.

Was this whole thing such a great idea, after all?

She then called Women's Initiatives in San Diego. When Rebecca Sheffield answered, she said, "Hi. It's Kathryn Dance again, in Monterey. I was-"

Rebecca interrupted. "I've been watching the news for the past twenty-four hours. What happened? You almost had him and he got away?"

"I'm afraid so."

Rebecca gave a harsh sigh. "Well, are you catching on now?"

"Catching on?"

"The fire at the courthouse. The fire at the power plant. Twice, arson. See the pattern? He found something that worked. And he did it again."

Exactly what Dance had thought. She didn't defend herself, though, but merely said, "He's not quite like any escapee we've ever seen."

"Well, yeah."

"Ms. Sheffield, there's something-"

"Hold on. First, there's one thing I want to say."

"Go ahead," Dance said uneasily.

"Forgive me, but you people don't have a clue what you're up against. You need to do what I tell people in my seminars. They're about empowerment in business. A lot of women think they can get together with their friends for drinks and dump on their idiotic bosses or their exes or their abusive boyfriends, and, presto, they're cured. Well, it doesn't work like that. You can't stumble around, you can't wing it."