I SKIPPED A CLASS on “Arrest Techniques” that morning. I figured I probably knew more on the subject than the teacher. I called Monnie Donnelley instead and told her I needed whatever she had on the white slave trade, particularly recent activity in the U.S., that might relate to the White Girl case.

Most of the Bureau’s crime analysts were housed ten miles away at CIRG, but Monnie had an office at Quantico. Less than an hour later, she was at the doorway of my no-frills cubicle. She held out two disks, looking proud of herself.

“This should keep you busy for a while. I concentrated on white women only. Attractive. Recent abductions. I also have a lot on the crime scene in Atlanta. I expanded the circle to get a read on the mall, owner, employees, the neighborhood in Buckhead. I have copies for you of the police and the Bureau’s investigative reports. All the things you asked for. You do your homework, don’t you?”

“I’m a student of the game. I prepare as best I can. Is that so unusual? Here at Quantico?”

“Actually, it is for agents who come to us from police departments or the armed forces. They seem to like to work out in the field.”

“I like field work too,” I admitted to Monnie, “but not until I’ve narrowed it some. Thank you for this, all of this.”

“Do you know what they say about you, Dr. Cross?”

“No. What do they say?”

“That you’re close to psychic. Very imaginative. Maybe even gifted. You can think like a killer. That’s why they put you on White Girl right away.” She remained in the doorway. “Listen. Some unasked-for advice, if I may. You shouldn’t piss off Gordo Nooney. He takes his little orientation games seriously. He’s also basically a bad guy. And he’s connected.”

“I’ll remember that.” I nodded. “So there are good guys too?”

“Absolutely. You’ll see that most of the agents are real solid. Good people, the best. All right, well, happy hunting,” Monnie said. Then she left me to my reading, lots and lots of reading. Too much.