“What happened to the father?”

“Ran off before Keith was born.”

“Brothers, sisters?” I asked.

“Grown, have been for a long time. I guess he was a surprise. I suspect Mr. Pleasants isn’t the father, explaining why he was already gone before Keith was even around.”

“And what is this suspicion based on?” I asked with an edge.

“My gut.”

“I see.”

“Where they live is remote, about ten miles from the landfill, in farmland,” he said. “Got a pretty good-size yard, a garage that’s detached from the house.” He crossed his legs, pausing, as if what he had to add next was important. “There are a lot of tools, and a big workbench. Keith says he’s a handyman and uses the garage when things need fixing around the house. I did see a hacksaw hanging up on a pegboard, and a machete he says he uses for cutting back kudzu and weeds.”

Slipping out of his jacket, he carefully draped it over his lap as he continued the tour of Keith Pleasants’ life.

“You certainly had access to a lot of places without a warrant,” I cut him off.

“He was cooperative,” he replied, nonplussed. “Let’s talk about what’s in this guy’s head.” He tapped his own. “First, he’s smart, real smart, books, magazines, newspapers all over the place. Get this. He’s been videotaping news accounts of this case, clipping articles.”

“Probably most of the people working at the landfill are,” I reminded him.

But Ring was not interested in one word I said.

“He reads all kinds of crime stuff. Thrillers. Silence of the Lambs, Red Dragon. Tom Clancy, Ann Rule . . .”

I interrupted again because I could not listen to him a moment longer. “You’ve just described a typical American reading list. I can’t tell you how to conduct your investigation, but let me try to persuade you to follow the evidence . . .”

“I am,” he interrupted right back. “That’s exactly what I’m doing.”

“That’s exactly what you’re not doing. You don’t even know what the evidence is. You haven’t received a single report from my office or the labs. You haven’t received a profile from the FBI. Have you even talked to Marino or Grigg?”

“We keep missing each other.” He got up and put his jacket back on. “I need those reports.” It sounded like an order. “The C.A. will be calling you. By the way, how’s Lucy?”

I did not want him to even know my niece’s name, and it was evident by the surprised, angry look in my eyes.

“I wasn’t aware the two of you were acquainted,” I coolly replied.

“I sat in on one of her classes, I don’t know, a couple months back. She was talking about CAIN.”

I grabbed a stack of death certificates from the in-basket, and began initialing them.

“Afterwards she took us over to HRT for a robotics demo,” he said from the doorway. “She seeing anyone?”

I had nothing to say.