“Died of pancreatic cancer while the family was living in Peru. For some reason, her death still haunts him. Once or twice a month he’ll wake up screaming. Vicious night terrors.”

“How old was Mick when she died?”

“Twelve.”

“Any idea why her death still creates such trauma?”

“No. Mick refuses to speak about it.” Foletta adjusts himself, unable to get comfortable in the small chair. “The truth, Intern Vazquez, is that Michael Gabriel doesn’t like me very much.”

“Transference neurosis?”

“No. Mick and I never had that kind of doctor-patient relationship. I’ve become his jailer, part of his paranoia. Some of that no doubt stems from his first years of residence. Mick had a hard time adjusting to confinement. One week before his six-month evaluation, he flipped out on one of our guards, breaking both the man’s arms and kicking him repeatedly in the scrotum. Caused so much damage that both testicles had to be surgically removed. There’s a picture somewhere in the file if you care—”

“No thanks.”

“As punishment for the attack, Mick spent most of the last ten years in solitary confinement.”

“That’s a bit severe, isn’t it?”

“Not where I come from. Mick’s a lot more clever than the men whom we hire to guard him. It’s best for all concerned to keep him isolated.”

“Will he be allowed to participate in group activities?”

“They have strict rules about mainstreaming residents down here, but for now, the answer’s no.”

Dominique stares at the Polaroids again. “How concerned do I need to be about this guy attacking me?”

“In our business, Intern, you always have to be concerned. Is Mick Gabriel a threat to attack? Always. Do I think he will? Doubtful. The last ten years haven’t been easy on him.”

“Will he ever be permitted to reenter society?”

Foletta shakes his head. “Never. In the road of life, this is Mick Gabriel’s last stop. He’d never be able to handle the rigors of society. Mick’s scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“His own schizophrenia. Mick claims he can sense the presence of evil growing stronger, feeding off society’s hatred and violence. His phobia reaches a breaking point every time another angry kid grabs his father’s gun and shoots up a high school. This kind of stuff really gets to him.”

“It gets to me, too.”

“Not like this. Mick becomes a tiger.”

“Is he being medicated?”

“We keep him on zyprexa—twice a day. Knocks most of the fight out of him.”

“So what do you want me to do with him?”

“State law requires that he receive therapy. Use the opportunity to gain some valuable experience.”

He’s hiding something. “I appreciate the opportunity, Doctor. But why me?”