Emma squeezes the back of her neck as the throb in her temples builds. “I need to go to my dorm. I have a headache, I need some Advil—”

“Don’t go running off just yet. Listen.”

Being asked to listen by Cooper bothers her less than being told to by Raymond. And Cooper looks exhausted. His eyes are red from rubbing. He’s been up most of the night between Berryville and Washington, but he’s here, wearing yesterday’s suit and defending them to Raymond and being straight with her.

“You need to remember something.” Cooper looks between her and Bell. “It’s something I suspect Mr. Bell already knows. And it’s this—whether you’re in the FBI or in college or out in the world, you’re going to meet people like Raymond every step of the way. Sometimes it’ll infuriate you, because petty bullshit and stupidity are infuriating, but you have to figure out a way to work with it.”

Petty bullshit and stupidity—Emma’s had it up to here with both. Her head is pounding like a drum and her control is shaking loose. “But I’m not good at that!”

“Then you’d better learn. Like I said, I’d like to have your input. But the standoff with Raymond was a misstep, and we’re gonna pay for it later. You’ve got real sand, Miss Lewis, but you need to learn to pick your battles, or you’ll end up dashing yourself to pieces.”

“So you’re telling me that I lived through Huxton but I’ve got to put up with assholes like Raymond? Someone who doesn’t even understand why we were recruited in the first place?” Emma can hear the misery in her own voice. “It’s garbage. And I don’t know what I’m doing, I don’t know why I’m still here—”

“You’re here because you want to spare the next victims. Because you want to put this killer away. Because you know what it’s like to survive someone like the Butcher, and that perspective can be a weapon against him.” Cooper relaxes his stare, leans back against the wall of the elevator. “Now go to your dorm and get something for your headache. Forget about Raymond. I’m going to stop at the atrium for coffee, then I’ll meet you both back at the office and we can think about what to do next.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Two hours later, Emma’s starting to feel better. Part of it was the Advil, part of it was what Cooper said in the elevator. The rest of it is this time she’s spent with him and Bell, pooling the information on the Butcher case.

“Next steps?” Bell taps his pen against the notepad in front of him at the desk. “We’ve got an outline, and we’re getting a clearer picture of his process now.”

“Thanks to Miss Gutmunsson,” Cooper says. Both he and Bell are down to shirtsleeves.

“But we’ve still got gaps to fill,” Emma says.

“Yes, we do.” Cooper looks like he needs to sleep for about a thousand years. “And if he’s preparing to take his activities underground, we need to fill those gaps fast. We need information on his vehicle and we need to narrow down his range. At the moment his hunting ground looks like most of Virginia. I’ve asked Wes Chamberlain, our tech guy, to keep plugging data into the computer banks—possible routes, on-and off-ramps, times of day—to see if we can get some ideas. Do we have anything more on the connections between the victims? Have you got any insights?”