“Rebecca Holdenfield? Are you out of your mind?” Gurney knew he was overreacting—not because of any actual misbehavior on his part but perhaps because he had, during the two cases on which they’d worked together, paid a bit more attention than he should have to the forensic psychologist’s undeniable attractiveness.

He also realized that his overreaction had been Hardwick’s aim. The man had an exquisite sensitivity to other people’s discomforts and a keen appetite for enhancing them.

“Her work is footnoted in the FBI profile of the Good Shepherd,” said Hardwick.

“You have a copy of that?”

“Yes and no.”

“Meaning?”

“No, because it’s an FBI document that they’ve declared confidential, with controlled distribution on a need-to-know basis, which is a need I don’t currently have and therefore I don’t officially have access to the profile.”

“Wasn’t it published in all the big newspapers right after the six murders?”

“An abstract was released to the media, not the profile itself. Our big FBI brothers are touchy about who gets to see the unedited products of their special wisdom. They definitely see themselves as the Deciders, with a capital D.”

“But would it be possible somehow …?”

“Anything is possible somehow. Given enough time. And motivation. Isn’t that like a law of logic?”

Gurney knew Hardwick well enough to know how to play this game. “I wouldn’t want you to get in big trouble with the Fucking Blithering Idiots.”

A thoughtful silence stretched out between them, pregnant with possibilities. It was finally broken by Hardwick.

“So, Davey boy, there anything else I can do for you today?”

“Sure, Jack. You can shove that ‘Davey boy’ stuff up your ass.”

Hardwick laughed long and hard. Like a tiger with bronchitis.

The man’s peculiar saving grace was that he was just as fond of receiving abuse as he was of dishing it out.

It seemed to be his idea of a healthy relationship.

Chapter 14

A Strange Visit to an Agitated Man

After ending his conversation with Hardwick, Gurney finished what was left of his cold coffee, entered the address Kim had given him for Robby Meese into his GPS, pulled out onto the county route, and headed for Syracuse. He used the drive time to consider ways of approaching the young man—the various interview personas he might adopt. In the end he settled on a semifactual way of presenting himself and the purpose of his visit. Once they were talking, he’d follow the lay of the land and maneuver however he needed to.