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adamant no, that Streeter believed credible. Any racial problems? After all, the guy was white married to a black woman. Any inkling of threats or taunts from bigots, racists, ordinary rednecks? Not that anyone in the Yankee organization knew about. Scott had white friends, black friends, Asians, Hispanic, you name it. Did Scott Monroe qualify for sainthood? Streeter had asked. The answer came back, “yes.”
    Streeter interrogated Scott more about Katie than about himself.About the nature of her job. The creepy people she helped put away. And there were plenty. Sexual predators and monsters who abused kids both physically and psychologically. But, Scott admitted, much of what Katie did was covered under doctor-patient privilege and had to remain confidential. But Streeter could see that this line of questioning scared the hell out of Scott. That his wife was exposed to horrors so heinous that she could not even divulge.
    The bottom line for Streeter, “Would any of these creeps want to hurt Katie so desperately that they’d take her kids?”
    Scott could not answer that. He could only stare ahead and finally mumble, “I don’t know.”
    When Katie replaced Scott in his conference room, Streeter could see that she was fading into uselessness.
    “Dr. Monroe,” he began, “I do need to talk to you about Maxwell Cutty, but I’ll keep it brief. The FBI questioned him during the night. You were supposed to testify in his trial today?”
    “Yes,” she said, looking up at Streeter, eyes so swollen that he wondered if she could see.
    “As you know, he made a threat of sorts toward you and toward the judge the last time you were in court. Remember?”
    “Yes. He said something like, ‘How would you like someone — fucking — in the head of your kid?’ Those were his actual words to me. The judge threatened him with sanctions.” Then Katie leaned forward, a sudden pulse of energy flashed in her eyes. “Agent Streeter, are you telling me that he took my daughters?”
    “His hearing on child abuse charges has been postponed because you won’t be there, but no, we can’t link him to your daughters. We have nothing to hold him on.”
    The temporary spark went out of Katie and she slumped forward, fresh tears brimming. “I’m sorry, I can’t think about anything but Alex and Sammie. About what might be happening to them? Where they might be?”
    “Getting back to Mr. Cutty, Dr. Monroe, knowing his psychological profile, do you think he would try something like this? Take your children to keep you from testifying? He certainly has motive. Of course, he did not do it in person, but he has financial means.”
    “He’s a sociopath who needs to be in jail, at the very least, isolated from children. But kidnapping my kids? Twelve hundred miles away?”
    “We have to be thorough. What do you know about his live-in boyfriend, Adam Kaninsky?”
    “Adam?” Katie sat up straighter, a wariness in her tone.
    Katie stood up and started pacing. She asked for a glass of water. Streeter poured her some iced water. She drank slowly then sat back down. Settling her head in her hands, she began, “Here’s what happened. Several months ago, Adam came to me in a professional setting. He said he had an ethical dilemma. He told me that he was gay and that he had a partner, an older man, a man with money and style, a man with two young sons, Aiden, seven, and Jake, five. He told me that he had witnessed his partner’s sexual abuse of his sons.”
    “He was a witness?” Streeter tried to get her back on track.
    “Adam said that Maxwell would take the boys in the shower with him. Adam didn’t think there’d been anal penetration, per se, but he definitely used the kids as sex objects. The kids seemed to accept it as normal. Adam described them as submissive. I don’t need to get into all the details.”
    “So why did he come to you?” Streeter asked.
    “He felt bad for the kids. Adam wanted it to stop, but he didn’t want to