The roguish eyes clicked to Sam, then back. 'Everyone knows psychologists are simply madmen turned inside out. All that glamor. We neuroscientists, on the other hand; we're just mere technicians.'

Somehow Thomas knew it was another eye-twinkling lie.

'You envy me?'

Another draw on his cigarette, deep enough to rim the bags beneath his eyes with orange light. The glow shined across both irises.

'In my way.'

Then he was gone.

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER EIGHT

August 18th, 2.58 p.m.

Coming along had been a mistake, Thomas realized as they walked back to Sam's Mustang. He was too close to the principals to bring much more than an alienating intensity to the table. And Mackenzie? The man was obviously a player from way back—and connected as well. Sam might as well have been a mail carrier for all the respect he showed her position.

'So what the hell was that all about?' Sam said as she started the car. The way she kept her eyes fixed on the street made him certain she was thinking the same thing he was.

'A narcissistic demonstration of entitlement,' Thomas replied.

'Which means?'

'He blew us off to prove to himself that he could blow us off. By showing us he didn't need us, he was affirming a congratulatory self-image.'

'Well, he should trim the old nostril hairs before congratulating himself too much. Did you see how orange they were?'

Thomas hadn't noticed. 'I thought he was quite dapper.'

'It was like taffy or something,' she continued in a ranting monologue tone, 'only with nicotine.' Thomas imagined that this was how she sounded when driving with Gerard. This was Sam, he realized, uncut.

'Gawd,' she exclaimed, 'I hate fucking smokers.' With a quick glance at her mirrors, she accelerated toward K Street. 'And what was that "I-envy-you-in-my-way" bullshit about?'

Thomas cleared his throat. 'You… I think.'

'Me?'

A tingling suffused his face. 'I think he thought I was going to… you know.'

Sam looked at him in shock, then burst out laughing—far harder than was necessary Thomas thought.

'Sorry, professor,' she said without a wisp of embarrassment. 'I like you and all, but…'

'But what?' Thomas cried.

'I love my job.'

'Yeah, well, I have my moments, you know.'

Sam braked at the intersection. Against an embattled retail backdrop, traffic whisked through the sun's glare, flashing as though through a searchlight. Thomas found himself staring down the treed rows of a Wal-Mart parking lot, twisting in the absence of any reply.

'So what's the plan?' he asked when it became apparent she had nothing to say.

'I'm not sure,' she admitted after a pensive moment. 'I need to talk to Shelley, to see if there's any way to apply real pressure.'

'On Mackenzie, you mean.'