“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.”