Agent Rana sends him an incensed look. “We’re pressed for time, detective. We need answers now.”

“She asked for a lawyer. I don’t know how the feds do things, but we look after our own.” He plants his hands on the surface of the table, then pushes to his full height.

Riddick brushes past me on his way out of the interrogation room, effectively ending the interview. Strained silence fills the room as Agent Rana nods to the officer, directing him to take Tabitha back to holding.

Once they’ve left the room, the agent fixes me in her stony stare as she stands and collects her folders. “I’d like to see you in my office, Dr. St. James.” Then she looks at the two-way mirror. “All of you.”

Outside Rana’s office, tension thickens the atmosphere of the HRPD as what happened inside the interrogation room travels through the department.

I’m at least relieved the office Rana occupies isn’t the same one Alister used, the one where he tried to assault me. I deliberately avoid looking in that direction as the violent scene attempts to play out through the blinds. Kallum purposely moves in beside me to block my line of sight, then reaches over and closes the blinds.

“I’m all right,” I tell him.

His hand grazes mine reassuringly. “I know.”

Agent Hernandez enters, and Detective Emmons files in behind him. Once we’re assembled in Rana’s office, she instructs Emmons to close the door.

She levels each of us with a serious look. “The Liptons are having a party tonight,” she announces.

Surprise hikes my eyebrows. After the reveal which just took place during the interview, this isn’t what I was expecting to hear. “A party,” I say, questioning. “Right after a missing and traumatized member of their family has been returned to them.”

The mention of the Liptons conjures the disturbing image of Vince Lipton through the wall of flames.

Rana seems to share my astonishment of this, at least. “Vince Lipton is still undergoing evaluation at the hospital,” she says, as if this excuses the family’s eccentric behavior. “Apparently, it’s the Lipton’s annual star gazing gathering, or something to that effect. During her interview, Mrs. Lipton stated, vehemently, that canceling the party would draw too much ‘talk’.” She makes air quotes for emphasis.

“Though inappropriate, she’s not entirely wrong,” I say, offering a partial shrug. “It’s the psychology of small towns. They’re built on status. The residents look to this family for support, for leadership to know how to handle their shared hardship. It makes sense Mrs. Lipton would feel it’s her responsibility to provide a familiar sanctuary.”

Rana doesn’t shut down my analysis. Rather, she nods in earnest agreement, then looks at Detective Emmons. “Will all the residents be in attendance?”

He shifts his weight off his injured leg. “It’s the second largest town event besides the holidays,” he confirms.

“The Perseids,” Kallum chimes in. “It’s a yearly meteor shower, and one of the most brilliant to observe.”

I direct my next words to Rana. “I’m not sure what the Lipton’s social calendar has to do with the case.”

“Mrs. Lipton has lawyered up and now refuses to cooperate with the task force,” she says. “That limits our interrogation of Vince.”

“I still don’t understand what you need from me,” I say more pointedly.

I’ve already stated to the lead agent where I feel my services will be best utilized. As a crime-scene profiler, I should be in the mine shafts, analyzing the habitat of Devyn and her followers. If there is evidence to be uncovered as to where she is now, it’s likely in the place she’s resided these past five years.

Rana maintains my gaze with firm resolve. “I need eyes on that family.”

I tilt my head. “You’re assigning us as babysitters.”

“Essentially, yes.” She crosses her arms in finality. “As much reservation as I have keeping you on this case, Dr. St. James, the fact is you seem to always find a way to come into contact with the suspects.”

I fold my arms across my chest in mirror stance with the agent. I’m not the babysitter. I’m the one being babysat. With feds trailing me, watching me.

“Devyn isn’t going to just stride right up to me,” I point out.

“She did once before,” she counters. “Look, I’m giving you a short leash with which to roam,” she states, issuing a warning. “I’m excusing the behavior I witnessed at the scene yesterday as post-traumatic stress due to your recent encounters. I’ve officially recommended you undergo evaluation for professional counseling. I’ve also made a request for Professor Locke to be assigned a new doctor.”

In other words, she’s covering her own ass. Should any of my actions come back to bite her, she’s making sure the paperwork states her reservations.

“A psychologist having her mental health called into question is beyond insulting,” I say to her.

“Take it up with HR.” Sarcasm laces her voice as she seats herself behind the desk. “Once Dr. Keller arrives, she’ll officially take over as field psychiatrist.”

A volatile current charges the air, and I can feel Kallum’s ire simmering around me. “I’m here at Dr. St. James’s request,” he says, his tone dangerously low. “As she’s the only one even remotely capable of working this case alongside me, I’m not being passed around like a puppet to perform tricks for the FBI.”

Rana cocks an amused eyebrow. “Despite your impressive ego, Professor Locke, you’re not the only philosophy expert out there. If you refuse to cooperate with the feds, then your services are no longer required and you can return to the Briar Institute.”

I catch the smug curl of Kallum’s lips before he adopts a somber expression.

When he doesn’t push the subject, Rana plants her arms on the desk. “All right. Now that everyone’s on the same page—” she returns her attention to me “—I need to know if Devyn Childs would flee the area.”

I could deter the manhunt for Devyn right now. She didn’t leave her hometown, but one suggestion to the contrary would divide efforts to locate her.

“I’ll need to see the shafts of the mine to answer that question with any authority,” I say instead.

Rana shakes her head. “There are teams of agents already covering every square inch of the tunnels.”

“You mean, destroying any potential evidence that could be recovered by analyzing the scenes,” I say, and Kallum cranes an eyebrow at my boldness.

Her sigh is heavy, filled with the kind of weight a leader bears. “Find me something useful tonight, and I’ll see what I can do tomorrow, St. James.”

For a moment, I witness her defenses weakening. I can see the strain she’s under in the darkened skin beneath her eyes. “Bringing in Childs is top priority,” she reiterates, her tone a touch softer. “A federal agent was murdered, heinously, gruesomely, in this town. Within forty-eight hours, my superiors will arrive and expect results.”

The implied or else lingers in the dense air.

Agent Rana is on the figurative chopping block now. The higher ups need somewhere to place blame. Someone has to stand before the media and accept responsibility and explain the tragedy of this case to the public. If Rana doesn’t secure a suspect, she’ll become the one to bear that obligation.

Reading the room, Kallum says, “Someone always has to be the scapegoat.”

“Unless I get some results, I won’t be the only one,” Rana says, her statement edged in clear warning.

Detective Emmons takes this as his cue to exit the office, leaving us in the brewing tension.

Hernandez waits until the door clicks closed before he says, “Is no one going to mention the fucking antler things on that girl’s head? What the hell is going on in this town?”

Agent Rana glances at the door where the detective just left. “Something really wrong,” she says wearily. “As sympathetic as I may feel toward the locals and their plight, we can’t discount anyone here. Childs didn’t do all this alone. She had help.”