“Is he married?” Bolton said.

“I doubt it. Even he’d have to know that no matter how good his facade, his spouse and his children would sense his disease. He may have been married once, but not anymore.”

“What else?”

“I don’t think he’s been able to stop killing for the past two decades. It would be impossible for him. I believe he chose only to keep his kills quiet.”

We all looked at Angie and she tipped an imaginary hat.

“What else, Doctor?”

“The primary thrill for him is the kills. But secondary to that, and only barely, is the joy he gets living behind his mask. John stares out at you from behind that mask and laughs at you from behind the cover it provides. It’s very sexual to him, and that’s why he has to finally take it off after all these years.”

“I’m not following you,” I said.

“Think of it as a prolonged erection, if you will. John has been waiting to climax for over twenty years now. As much as he enjoys that erection, his need to ejaculate is even more pressing.”

“He wants to be caught.”

“He wants to expose himself. It’s not the same thing. He wants to take off the mask and spit in your face as you’re looking into his real eyes, but that’s not to say he’ll accept handcuffs willingly.”

“Anything else, Doctor?”

“Yes. I think he knows Mr. Kenzie. I don’t mean knows of him. I mean, he’s known him for a long time. They’ve met. Face to face.”

“Why do you say that?” I said.

“A man like this establishes odd relationships, but no matter how odd, they’re extremely important to him. It would be paramount to him that he know one of his pursuers. For whatever reason, he chose you, Mr. Kenzie. And he let you know by having Hardiman send for you. You and John know each other, Mr. Kenzie. I’d stake my reputation on it.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Bolton said. “I’m assuming the reason you read from your notes is because you have no intention of releasing them to us.”

“Not without a court order,” Dolquist said, “and even then you’d be in for a battle. If I find anything else in there which I think can stop these murders, I’ll call immediately. Mr. Kenzie?”

“Yes?”

“If I could have a word with you alone?”

Bolton shrugged and I shut off the speaker, cradled the phone to my ear. “Yes, Doctor?”

“Alec was wrong.”

“About?”

“About my wife. He was wrong.”

“That’s good to hear,” I said.

“I just wanted that…to be clear. He was wrong,” Dolquist repeated. “Good-bye, Mr. Kenzie.”

“Good-bye, Doctor.”

“Stan Timpson is in Cancun,” Erdham said.

“What?” Bolton said.

“It’s correct, sir. Took the wife and kids down there three days ago for a little R and R.”

“A little R and R,” Bolton said. “He’s the district attorney of Suffolk County during a serial-killer crisis. And he goes to Mexico?” He shook his head. “Go get him.”