“Right. Good. Let’s get inside and get some help on this. Our main concern here is to provide an appropriate alert to anyone who may be in danger, without creating a panic situation.”

Bullard was first out of the car, leading the way into the headquarters building. Gurney recognized the aggressive stride of the kind of person who is totally energized by a crisis. As he was about to follow her through the heavy glass doors into the reception area, he caught sight of a dark SUV turning into the parking lot. The lean, expressionless face behind the wheel belonged to Agent Daker.

A reflection on the glass obscured the face of Daker’s passenger. The result was that Gurney couldn’t tell if Trout had seen him or, if he had, how unhappy it had made him.

Chapter 36

Ice Picks and Animals

Because of the turmoil generated by the Good Shepherd’s message and the time required for the various initiatives that needed to be set in motion, their scheduled meeting began forty-five minutes late, with a rearranged agenda and burned-smelling coffee.

It was a typical windowless conference room with a pushpin cork-board affixed to one wall and a shiny whiteboard on the adjoining wall. The fluorescent lighting was both bright and bleak, a reminder of Paul Mellani’s claustrophobic office. A plain rectangular conference table with six chairs occupied most of the space. A small table with an aluminum coffee urn, Styrofoam cups, plastic spoons, powdered creamer, and a nearly empty box of sugar packets stood in a corner. It was the kind of room in which Gurney had spent countless hours, and the reaction it produced never changed. Whenever he entered a room like that, he immediately wanted to leave it.

On one side of the table sat Daker, Trout, and Holdenfield. On the opposite side sat Clegg, Bullard, and Gurney. It was an arrangement suited to confrontation. On the table in front of each of them, Bullard had placed a photocopy of the Good Shepherd’s new missive—which everyone had now read several times.

In front of Bullard herself, there was also a fat file folder—on top of which, to Gurney’s surprise, was the summary he’d e-mailed her of his thoughts regarding the original case.

Bullard was seated directly across the table from Trout, whose hands where folded before him. “I appreciate your making the trip here,” she said. “Beyond the obvious importance of this new communication, purportedly from the Good Shepherd, is there anything else top-of-mind that you’d like to address as we get started?”

Trout smiled blandly, turning his palms up in a traditional gesture of deference. “It’s your turf, Lieutenant. I’m here to listen.” Then he shot a less cordial glance at Gurney. “My only concern would be the inclusion of nonvetted personnel in an internal discussion of an investigation in progress.”

Bullard screwed up her face in bafflement. “Nonvetted?”