Emerson waited a moment before asking: “But don’t you think that you might gain some insight, hearing from a parent who—”

“—a ‘parent,’ Detective, is a term you can apply to any of the people in this room. Something like Beals is a different species.”

“Lucy,” said Dr. Astbury. “I don’t think you ought to—”

“Have you mentioned to the group, Doctor, that you’re one of the therapists Beals is seeing on a one-on-one basis?”

Astbury seemed to shrug. “I’m not ashamed of that, Lucy. It’s my job to counsel to victims of grief, no matter what they—”

“Victims?” Lucy was surprised she didn’t hurl a chair at the good doctor’s skull. “You have the nerve to stand there and call him a victim? I suppose you think that little bitch who strapped her kids into her car and drowned them is a victim, too? The fucking jury sure did.”

Astbury glared at her. “Lucy—”

“Don’t. Just…don’t, okay? It may very well be that people who do that to children had something done to them when they were kids that forever ruined them, and if that’s the case then my heart breaks for them as children. But at the same time, as adults, what they’ve done is irredeemable, understand? Without a thought for the fear or pain or loneliness or suffering of their children, they beat, torture, mutilate, and kill them. I’ll shed tears for whatever happened to these people as children, but as adults I think we’d all be better off to expunge them from the face of the earth.”

Emerson was unblinking now. “So if you had your way...?”

“If I had my way, I’d kick Tim Beals until he died from internal bleeding. Hopefully his death would be long and painful.”

Very calmly, Emerson said, “I have to warn you, Miss Thompson, that you’re dangerously close to making a public threat.”

“That’s not a threat, that’s an answer to your question, that’s how I feel as a mother who is never, ever going to hold her little girl’s hands again! Now let me ask you one question, Detective—where the hell do we draw the line?”

Emerson blinked. “I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”

“The line, you politicking talking head! At what point do we say to monsters like Beals, ‘Our system will let you go this far but no farther. You go beyond this point and you automatically lose your right to walk safely upon the earth.’”

“There are rules and procedures and constitutionally guaranteed channels that a person charged with a crime is entitled to, and—”

“And no one has the balls to draw that line. I know.” She rose from her seat; if anyone noticed the way she had trouble getting her balance, they showed no sign of it. “So we can log on to the web and find sites of babies having sex, or being fucked by animals, or even tortured. And there is no punishment severe enough for people like that. And I will not be back here again, not if Beals is to be part of this group.” She started toward the doorway, stopped, and turned to face Emerson and Astbury. “Earlier you accused me of coming close to making a threat. That was not a threat, Detective, but this is: If it were in my power, if I thought I could get away with it, I’d kill that worthless bastard with my bare hands. And to hell with his remorse. What good does his remorse do his daughter now? What good will his remorse do the next little kid who has to suffer at the hands of a monster?”