Then she got on her phone. “Andy? I need you to track down some handgun permit information.… Paul Mellani.… Yes, the same one.… For a Desert Eagle.… I’ve been told he has one, but the big question is when did he get it.… The original permit date.… Right.… Thanks.”

They ate silently for a while, finishing their antipasti and most of the pizza, as a series of promos for grotesque RAM reality shows blared from the restaurant’s three TV screens.

One show was called Roller Coaster, and it apparently involved a contest in which four men and four women vied with one another to rack up the largest number of pounds lost or gained, or gained first and then lost, over a twenty-six-week period, during which they were forced to remain in one another’s constant company. A previous winner had gone from 130 pounds up to 261 pounds and back down to 129 pounds, thus earning both the Double-Up and the Half-Down bonus awards.

As Gurney was wondering if America owned a special patent on media insanity or if the whole world had lost its collective mind, his phone rang with a text message from Kim, telling him to check his e-mail for the video file of her conversation with Jimi Brewster.

Seeing her name on his ID screen reminded him of another logistics detail. He looked over at Bullard, who was gesturing to the waiter to bring the bill. “I assume you’ll want to run Kim Corazon’s copy of the Shepherd’s new message through the Albany lab. What do you want her to do with it?”

“Where is she now?”

“In my son’s apartment in Manhattan.”

She hesitated for a second or two, as if filing that fact for later examination. “Have her bring it to the state police liaison office at NYPD headquarters, One Police Plaza. When we get back to the unit, I’ll give you the routing instructions that need to go with it.”

Gurney was about to slip his phone back into his pocket when it occurred to him that Bullard might be interested in the Brewster video.

“By the way, Lieutenant, a while back Kim interviewed Jimi Brewster, one of the so-called Orphans. He’s the one who—”

She nodded. “The one who hated his surgeon father. I read about him in the background pile Daker dumped on me.”

“Right. Well, Kim just e-mailed me a video copy of her interview with him. You want it?”

“Of course I want it. Can you forward it to me right now?”

When they returned to the conference room, Trout, Daker, and Holdenfield were already at the table. Although Gurney and Bullard were just a minute late, Trout shot a sour glance at his watch.

“Got somewhere else you need to be?” asked Gurney, his casual tone and bland smile providing only thin cover for a dangerous level of hostility.