"I asked you here because I'm taking a gamble. I need your help." "Right! You need me to help by leaving town and keeping the hell out of it . ." I was slowly shaking my head. She looked surprised. "Do you know Benton Wesley?" "The profiler," she replied hesitantly. "I know who he is." I glanced up at the wall clock. "He'll be here in ten minutes." She stared at me for a long time. "What? What is it, exactly, you want me to do?" "Use your journalistic connections to help us find him." "Him?" Her eyes widened. I got up to see if there was any coffee left. Wesley was reluctant when I had explained my plan over the telephone, but now that the three of us were in my office it seemed clear to me he'd accepted it. "Your complete cooperation is non-negotiable," he said to Abby emphatically. "I've got to have your assurance you'll do exactly what we agree upon. Any improvisation or creative thinking on your part could blow the investigation right out of the water. Your discretion is imperative." She nodded, then pointed out, "If it's the killer breaking into the computer, why's he done it only once?" "Once we're aware of," I reminded her.
