They were talking quietly, as if sharing a deep secret that no one else should know.

“Am I interrupting?” I asked from the doorway.

“I think we have it sorted out now,” Nana said.

She motioned for me to come sit at the breakfast table. I poured coffee first, popped in four slices of whole-wheat toast, and then finally sat across from Nana and Sampson.

He had a big glass of milk propped in front of him. I couldn't help remembering back to when we were kids. Two or three mornings a week he'd show up at around this time to break bread with Nana and me. Where else could he go? His mom was a junkie. In a way, Nana had always been like a mother or grandmother to him too. He and I had been like brothers since we were ten. That's why the fight the night before was so disturbing.

“Let me talk, Nana,” he said.

She nodded and sipped her tea. I'm pretty sure why I chose psychology for a career, and who my original role model was. Nana has always been the best shrink I've seen. She's wise, and compassionate for the most part, but tough enough to insist on the truth. She also knows how to listen.

“I'm sorry, Alex. I didn't sleep last night. I feel awful about what happened. I was way over the line,” Sampson said. He was staring into my eyes, forcing himself not to look away.

Nana watched the two of us as if we were Cain and Abel sitting at her breakfast table.

“You were over the line all right,” I said. “That's for sure. You were also crazy last night. How much did you drink before you came over?”

“John told you he was sorry,” Nana said.

“Nana,” he turned to her, then back to me. “Ellis Cooper was like a brother to me. I can't get over the execution, Alex. In a way, I'm sorry I went to see it. He didn't kill those women. I thought we could save him, so it's my fault. I expected too much.”

He stopped talking.

“So did I,” I said. “I'm sorry we failed. Let me show you something. Come upstairs. This is about payback now. There's nothing left but payback.”

I brought Sampson to my office in the attic of the house. I had notes on Army murder cases pinned all over the walls. The room looked like the hideout of a madman, one of my obsessive killers. I took him to my desk.

“I've been working on these notes since I met Ellis Cooper. I found two more of these remarkable cases. One in New Jersey, the other in Arizona. The bodies were painted, John.”

I took Sampson through the cases, sharing everything. “During the past year more than sixty soldiers have been murdered.” I finished up.

“Sixty?” Sampson said, and shook his head. “Sixty murders a year?”

“Most of the violence has to do with sex and hate crimes,” I said. “Rapes and murders. Homosexuals who've been beaten or killed. A series of vicious rapes by an Army sergeant in Kosovo. He didn't think he'd get caught because there was so much rape and killing going on there anyway.”