'It is real,' he said. 'It's not perfect, but it's real.' Thomas took a nervous drink. 'She so wants me to be an active part of the case—you have no idea. I discuss it with her, give her what insights I can, but I can tell she's disappointed deep down. I sometimes worry she thinks I'm a coward. Sounds stupid, doesn't it? But here's Neil on this killing spree, mutilating and torturing innocent people—even children for fuck's sake—and all I can think about is… is…'

Nora.

Thomas had been looking down at his beer. He dared Mia's friendly gaze.

'I've never felt so… so beaten before, Mia. All this time, he's been banging Nora, dodging around through the darkness behind my back. All this time, making a fool out of me. And instead of hating him, all I want to do is curl into a little ball.' He blinked, saw Cynthia Powski, sweat-slick and gasping between climaxes. 'Truth be told, I am terrified. More frightened than I've been in my entire life.'

'Me too,' Mia said. 'And I'm just the neighbor.'

He wasn't joking, Thomas realized. Psychopaths belonged to movies, salacious news exposes and clinical studies, not quiet Peekskill neighborhoods. Culture had a code for other types of threats, storylines that provided neighbors a measure of comfort. Estranged husbands murdered wives and children, but respected property lines. Fugitive gangsters left town in the middle of the night. Terrorists shaved their beards, forgot to water their lawns but otherwise tried to keep a low profile.

Psychopaths were something altogether different.

'Some fucked up shit, huh, Mia?'

'Fiercely fucked up, my friend.'

Thomas breathed deeply, steepled his fingers about his beer. 'Listen, I know I have no reason to say this, but I need you to keep this stuff under your hat.'

'About you and Sam? Or Neil?'

'All of it.'

Mia snorted. 'I've been wondering why none of this has made the news. Just Chiropractor, Chiropractor, and more Chiropractor.'

'Neil was NSA. I told you that.'

'So why is the FBI hunting him?'

'Because it's domestic.'

Mia nodded in a yah-yah manner. 'With all the madness going on, I imagine they're spread pretty thin.' He tossed a cap, sent it clinking across the patio stones.

'So they keep telling me.'

Thomas had always measured his friendships by the silences they could absorb. As roommates, he and Neil had literally spent hours together without speaking a word. With Mia the gaps between jokes or questions or observations were never as long, but they seemed more profound for some reason, more indicative, a product of common appreciation rather than boredom or distraction.

'Did I ever tell you,' Mia ventured after two or three contemplative drinks, 'that I worked for the Department of Fatherland Security?'