“Of course.”

As the host read a long screed about the way to “eradicate greed” and “exterminate human carriers,” thereby freeing the earth of “this ultimate contagion,” Gurney recognized the words as the introduction to the Good Shepherd’s Memorandum of Intent—otherwise known as the “manifesto.”

The host put the paper down on the table. “Okay, Dr. Mirkilee—what kind of individual are we dealing with here?”

“In layman terms? Very logical, yet very emotional.”

“Expand on that. Please.”

“Many tensions in the writing, many styles, attitudes.”

“Are you saying he has multiple personalities?”

“No, that is a silly thing—no such disorder. It is for stories, movies.”

“Ah. But I thought you said—”

“There are many tones. First one, then another, another. Very unstable man.”

“And I take it you would characterize such a man as dangerous?”

“Yes, of course. He killed six people, no?”

“Good point. One last question. Do you think he’s still out there, lurking in the shadows?”

Dr. Mirkilee hesitated. “Well, I’ll say this: If he is out there, I would make a large bet that he is watching this program right now. Watching and considering.”

“Considering?” The host paused, as if grappling with the significance of that statement. “Well, that’s a chilling thought. A murderer walking our streets. A murderer who at this very moment may be considering what to do next.”

He took a deep breath, as if to settle his nerves before announcing, as the camera zoomed in on him, “It’s time now for some important messages …”

Gurney grabbed the computer mouse and slid the volume icon to zero, a reflexive response to commercials.

Madeleine looked at him sideways. “We haven’t even seen Kim come on yet, and I’m already losing my patience with this.”

“Me, too,” said Gurney, “but I need to at least watch Kim’s interview with Ruth Blum.”

“I know,” said Madeleine. She gave a small smile.

“What is it?”

“There’s a silly irony in this whole situation. When you were injured, when the aftereffects didn’t disappear as quickly as you might have liked, you sank into a hole. The deeper you sank, the less you did. The less you did, the deeper you sank. It was painful to see you like that. Doing nothing was killing you. Now all the craziness that’s going on, all the danger, is bringing you back to life. You used to sit at the breakfast table on a gorgeous morning, running your finger up and down your arm, checking the numb spot, checking to see if it had changed, if it had gotten worse. You know what? You haven’t done that all week.”

He didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing.

On the screen the last in the series of commercials faded to black and the scene switched back to the interview table.