“Tom. I’m the lucky guy who got handed the Kristal Malley murder and I need the defendants evaluated psychologically. The main issue, obviously, is, was there enough mature forethought and mental capacity prior to and during the commission of the crime to qualify the defendants for full, adult psychological capacity. The D.A.’s broken new ground, but from what I’ve seen the sixteen-year minimum for a 707 isn’t inviolate. Issue Two— and this is as much personal as official— I’d like to know what makes them tick. I have three kids of my own and this one makes no sense to me.”

“It’s a tough one,” I agreed. “Unfortunately, I can’t help you.”

“Pardon?”

“I’m not the man for the job.”

“Why not?”

“Psychological tests can reveal how someone’s functioning intellectually and emotionally in the present, but they say nothing about past state of mind. On top of that, they were developed to measure things like learning disabilities and giftedness, not homicidal behavior. In terms of what made these boys tick, my training’s even less helpful. We’re good at creating rules about human behavior but lousy at understanding exceptions.”

“We’re talking bizarre behavior, here,” said Laskin. “Isn’t that your bailiwick?”

“I’ve got opinions, but they’re just that— my personal point of view.”

“All I want to know is were they thinking like kids or like grown-ups.”

“There’s nothing scientifically definitive I could say about that. If other shrinks tell you different, they’re lying.”

He laughed. “Pete Bonnaccio said you could get like this. Which is exactly why I called you. Everything I do on this one is going to be put under the microscope. The last thing I need is one of the usual expert whores turning it into a circus. I didn’t take Pete’s word that you were unbiased, I talked to some other judges and a few cops. Even people who think you’re a compulsive pain-in-the-ass admit you’re not doctrinaire. What I need here is an open mind. But not so open your brain falls out.”

“Are you open-minded?” I said.

“What do you mean?”

“You really haven’t made up your mind?”

I heard him breathing. Rapidly, then slower, as if forcing himself calm. “No, I haven’t made up my mind, Doctor. I just had a look at the autopsy photos. Went by the jail and looked at the defendants, too. In jail duds, with their hair cut, they look like they got kidnapped themselves. It just doesn’t make sense.”

“I know, but— ”