Don't speak until spoken to. Dewey's voice in his head, coaching him, gave him the courage to return their stares without speaking. Behind his back, he flexed his cuffed hands and reminded himself they didn't know his real name. As long as they didn't have that, they couldn't send him home.

When the silence was two beats past unbearable, the one called Matt asked, "Why?d you run, kid?"

"You can't question me without a lawyer. I know my rights." He tightened his lips against the other protests that wanted to leak out. Keep your cool. You can't incriminate yourself if you keep your cool. "You should read me my rights."

The one called Jake rubbed his chin, then sat down opposite Kevin, his elbows propped on his knees. In his hand was one of the ice packs Dewey had used to take down the swelling on his mouth.

"Ran into a wall," he'd joked, his grin more crooked than usual.

"What was his name?" Kevin had shot back.

"You'd be surprised." Dewey's smile had been amused enough to make him really curious.

The one called Bryn, the FBI agent, broke in on his thoughts with a hard insistence, "We don't have to read you your rights until we start questioning you."

Kevin frowned at this deviation from the script. "He asked me a question." His nerves were jumping like a grasshopper, and his voice tried to follow their lead. He made a valiant try to smooth it out, but puberty was against him, too.

"Well," Matt said, "there are questions, and there are questions."

"We're just making friendly conversation," Jake chimed in. He smiled as he tossed the ice pack up and down. Up and down.

Kevin tried not to follow the hypnotic motion, but it was like trying to stop the tide.

"You can join in or not, whatever you want," Jake added, snatching the ice pack out of the air and standing with a quick movement that made Kevin?s heart leap in fear.

The three of them stared at him, their eyes relentless and unblinking. He could smell himself, smell his own fear, but he was cold, too, shuddering cold. In the silence, he heard the air conditioning switch on, working against him, too. He gritted his teeth when they showed signs of chattering but couldn't stop the shudders from shaking him and the couch he sat on.

"What-no, that would be a question," Jake said. He looked at Matt. "Never realized how hard it is to not ask a question."

Both men settled down on either side of him and gave him friendly smiles that didn't warm or remove fear. Kevin tried to relax, too, but it was hard to get comfortable with his hands cuffed behind him and his body jerking to its own rhythm. The need to shift, to move, to speak, grew in direct contrast to the utter stillness of the three of them as they stared at him.

"Let's just read him his rights, and then we can ask him whatever we want," Bryn said, looking at him like something she'd like to slice up and eat with salt.

"Not without a lawyer!" Kevin said before he could stop himself. To his annoyance his voice broke on lawyer, making him sound like a kid. He hunched into the couch and glared at them.

Jake leaned back, relaxing into the cushions, still tipping the ice pack from one side of the evidence bag to the other, as if the wet mass was somehow critical to life on earth or something.

Matt frowned and rubbed his chin. "I don't know. I kind of like to know who I'm reading and talking to before I do the rights reading."

Kevin was trying to figure out what this meant when the bag slipped from Jake?s hands, thudding softly against the carpeted floor. Kevin jumped, heart and body. His insides twisted with the need to do something, anything but just sit there.

They'll try to do a good cop, bad cop on you. Try to get you to trust one of them. The nice one is as much your enemy as the mean one.

Jake shrugged. "Matt's got a point, Bryn. Wouldn't want to give a lawyer a loophole to slide him through. Kid's so puny, it wouldn't have to be a big loophole."

"So," Bryn asked, "what's your name, kid?"

"You know my name!" The ID was his Achilles' heel and Kevin couldn?t stop the words bursting out. "You got my ID!"

"This?" Jake held up Kevin's wallet, open to his license. Kevin nodded and Jake held it out, as if comparing the photo with the real person. "It?s nice work. Almost looks real."

"Almost-it is real! You-" Kevin swallowed the words, his cuffed hands clenched in support of his fight for control. This Wasn't supposed to happen.

"We know You're not Kevin Jones any more than I'm Barney Google with the googly eyes," Matt said, rising to stand over him with his arms crossed over his powerful chest, the same way his mom's new husband did before he popped him one.

Kevin cowered against the couch, waiting for the blow to fall.

"That's goo-goo-googly eyes," Jake corrected Matt with utter sobriety.

"Really?" Matt looked at his brother. "You sure?"

"As sure as I am this is crap," Jake said, tossing the wallet onto the coffee table in front of Kevin.

The wallet flopped open, the ID photo staring up at him. Kevin Jones it said. Your name for now, Dewey had said. RogeR's gone forever. Going forward won't always be easy, but you never have to go back. Trust me. They are always on our heels, but if you hang on, we'll be there to bail you out.

Kevin looked at Jake, then at Matt. In both faces he found no mercy, but some pity. He looked at Bryn and found no mercy in her face or her eyes. She leaned forward. "We don't want you. We just want Hyatt. Give him to us and you can go home."

Home. When hell froze over he'd let them send him home. Now he knew whom he trusted and whom he didn't.

"I want a lawyer."

Jake sat back with a sigh. They'd almost had him. He'd seen it in the kid?s eyes. Until Bryn mentioned home. He studied him, noticing now that he was looking for it, the almost faded bruises on his face.

Damn it.

Through the window of the interrogation room, Matt and Jake watched Kevin pace around the small room. He looked nervous, but resolute.

Matt looked at Jake, one brow cocked. "What's scarier than we are?"

Jake rubbed the back of his neck. "Home?"

"Damn." Matt looked less than thrilled.

"No kidding." Jake leaned against the wooden frame of the one-way glass. The kid was probably newly inducted into Phagan's operation. Jake explained to Matt that besides thieving, Phagan also ran an extensive underground operation that helped runaways the way society was supposed to. This inspired an almost fanatical loyalty and made the kids impossible to turn. All they had to offer them was a trip into foster care or a return to their nightmare.

"So the only way to crack him is to be worse than whoever was beating him?" Matt asked, sounding rightly uncomfortable. "Great."

"If we wait for Bryn," Jake said wryly, "she can do bad Fed for us."

He heard a cough behind him. They turned around.

"Neither of you," Bryn said, "were spanked enough when you were little, were you?"

Jake grinned. "I'm not spanked enough now."

He could see her struggle, but she did manage to hold back an answering grin.

"Take it on the road, or let's go crack the kid before Phagan sends in a lawyer to-"