After a while, he looked up. “Madeleine insisted I see you, so I’m here. But I don’t really understand why.”

“Do you know what guilt is?”

Something in Gurney’s psychological makeup welcomed the question, or at least welcomed the opportunity to escape into abstraction. “Guilt as a fact would be personal responsibility for wrongdoing. Guilt as a feeling would be the uncomfortable sense of having done something you shouldn’t have done.”

“That uncomfortable sense—what exactly do you think that is?”

“A troubled conscience.”

“That’s a term for it, but it doesn’t explain what it really is.”

“All right, Malcolm, you tell me.”

“Guilt is a painful hunger for harmony—a need to compensate for one’s violation, to restore balance, consistency.”

“What consistency?”

“Between beliefs and behavior. When my actions are inconsistent with my values, I create a gap, a source of tension. Consciously or unconsciously, we seek to close the gap. We seek the peace of mind that closing the gap—making up for the violation—will provide.”

Gurney shifted in his chair, feeling a surge of impatience. “Look, Malcolm, if your point is that I’m trying to get myself killed to make up for the death of my son, then why haven’t I let it happen? It’s pretty damn easy for a cop to get himself killed. But, like I said before, here I am. Very much alive. How could someone with a serious death wish manage to be in such good health? I mean, that’s just plain nonsense!”

“I agree.”

“You agree?”

“You didn’t kill Danny. So getting yourself killed wouldn’t be a rational goal.” A subtle, almost playful smile appeared. “And you’re a very rational man, aren’t you, David?”

“You’re losing me.”

“You told me that your offense was lack of attention, that you let him wander into the street, where he was hit by a passing car. Listen to what I am about to say, and tell me if it describes the situation accurately.” Claret paused before going on in a slow, deliberate way. “With no one protecting him, Danny was at the mercy of a blind, uncaring universe. Fate flipped the coin, a drunk driver appeared, and Danny lost.”

Gurney heard the words the man was speaking, sensed the truth in them, yet felt nothing. It was like a beam of light passing through shatterproof glass.