“Mr. Gutmunsson, Mr. Gutmunsson—you don’t have to stand on ceremony in a madhouse, you know. Call me Simon. And I’ll call you Emma. Emma, have we met before? You seem familiar somehow.”

“We haven’t met before,” Emma says. Too quickly? She can sense him sniffing around the outskirts of her mind, like a truffling pig.

“No, you’re right. I think I’d remember.” Gutmunsson steeples his hands and taps his forefingers against his bottom lip. “Maybe it’s generational simpatico. We’re close in age, aren’t we? You’re what, eighteen, nineteen?”

His guess is accurate. She’ll allow it. “I’m eighteen years old.”

“That’s very young to be working for the FBI. I didn’t realize the bureau was recruiting juveniles these days—Hoover will be turning in his grave. And how is Special Agent Cooper?”

He communicates with me. She’s glad Cooper warned her about that. “He’s doing fine.”

“I doubt that’s true, although I don’t imagine he confides in you.” Gutmunsson raises one eyebrow, like an echo of his mug shot. “Cooper will be running himself ragged with the business in Pennsylvania. I’ve been wondering when he’d come to visit me about it, but he’s sent you instead. It’s a bit lily-livered of him, if you ask me—you should call him on that.”

“I will,” Emma says without thinking, then stops herself, changes tack. “You know about the Pennsylvania case?”

“I get my news the same way everybody else does. Dr. Scott tried to have my newspapers clipped to prevent me from gaining access to ‘stimulating material,’ but that just reduced the broadsheets to rags—I had my lawyer obtain an injunction. I suspect Dr. Scott is one of those earnest people who believe that murder is the consequence of too much violent television.”

Emma thinks of her own experience with therapists. “Dr. Scott is a behaviorist?”

Gutmunsson grins. “It’s convenient you know the terms. Amazing, isn’t it, the quack theories some practitioners believe while still calling themselves doctors.”

“And you don’t subscribe to the theory.”

“That environmental influences are the strongest determiner of a person’s actions?” He spreads his hands. “People take their motivation where they find it, Emma, and life is full of motivation. But they have to be inclined to begin with, don’t you think? You can’t just blame it on popular culture. The Dukes of Hazzard is horrifying, yes, but come on—it’s no more likely to drive a man to murder than any other excruciatingly banal activity, like going to the mall.”

Emma snorts, surprising herself. Gutmunsson’s face lights.

“See? We’re having a real conversation now. I say something amusing, and you laugh.” He sits on the bed to face her, propped back on his hands, legs crossed at the knee. “Now tell me, are the details about Pennsylvania accurate in the papers? Or is the FBI not releasing all the information?”

“I’m not… I don’t read the newspapers.”

“Truly? You’re completely oblivious about current events? I’d have thought that’s a bit of an oversight for someone in law enforcement.”

She keeps her voice level. “I’m not in law enforcement. I’m a psychology student.”