be dealing with the same perp, or a copycat, or with some third option still undefined.”
To Gurney there was no possibility of any “third option”—but he understood that Bullard wanted to establish the broadest rationale for retaining investigative control.
She went on. “I understand that there’s an established theory of the original case, and I understand that you’ve been questioning it aggressively. I want you to know that I come to the table with an open mind. I have no vested interest in any particular version of the truth. I also have no interest in ego-driven pissing matches. My interest is in facts. I have a great fondness for them. I asked you to join us this morning because I sensed that you might share that fondness. Any questions?”
It all sounded as straightforward as Bullard’s clear, forceful voice. But Gurney knew that the reality of the situation had another layer. He was pretty sure he’d been invited because Bullard had discovered, probably from Daker, that he’d gotten under Trout’s skin—meaning that his unstated role was to complicate the chemistry of the meeting and keep Trout off balance. In short, he was there as a wild card in Bullard’s hand.
“Any questions?” she repeated.
“Just one. I assume that Daker showed you the FBI profile of the Good Shepherd?”
“Yes.”
“What do you think of it?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Good.”
“Pardon?”
“Sign of an open mind. Now, before we go in, I have a small bombshell for you.” He opened the Priority envelope he’d been holding in his lap, then the inner envelope, and slid the message out. “This was delivered to me this morning. I’ve already handled it, but it would be better if no one else touched it.”
Bullard and Clegg turned a little farther around in their seats to face him. He read the message aloud, slowly. He was struck again by its elegance—especially in the conclusion: “With devils in pulpits and angels ignored, it falls to the honest to punish what the mad world rewards.” The problem was, it was an elegant expression of emotion that felt devoid of any emotion at all.
When he finished, he held it up for Bullard and Clegg to read for themselves. Bullard’s expression was electric.
“This is the original?” she asked.
“One of two originals that I know of. The other one was received by Kim Corazon.”
She blinked several times, rapidly—in a way that seemed a by-product of rapid thinking. “We’ll make half a dozen copies when we go inside, then tag the original in an evidence bag for Albany forensics.” Her eyes shifted to Gurney. “Why you?”
“Because I’m helping Kim Corazon? Because he wants to stop both of us?”
More blinking. She looked at Clegg. “The people alluded to in this message need to be alerted. Everyone we can identify that would fit his definition of the enemy.” She looked back at Gurney. “Hold it up again so I can read it.” She scanned down through the text. “It sounds like he may be threatening everyone in the families of the original victims, their children, and their children’s families. We need names, addresses, phone numbers—fast. Who would have all that stuff?” She glanced at Clegg.
“There was some location and contact information in the files Daker showed us, but the question would be, how current is it?”
“Your most current source would be Kim Corazon,” said Gurney. “She’s been in touch with a lot of those people.”
“Right. Good. Let’s get inside and get some help on this. Our main concern here is to provide an appropriate alert to anyone who may be in danger, without creating a panic situation.”
Bullard was first out of the car, leading the way into the headquarters building. Gurney recognized the aggressive stride of the kind of person who is totally energized by a crisis. As he was about to follow her through the heavy glass doors into the reception area, he caught sight of a dark SUV turning into the parking lot. The lean, expressionless face behind the wheel belonged to Agent Daker.
A reflection on the glass obscured the face of Daker’s passenger. The result was that Gurney couldn’t tell if Trout had seen him or, if he had, how unhappy it had made him.
Chapter 36
Ice Picks and Animals
Because of the turmoil generated by the Good Shepherd’s message and the time required for the various initiatives that needed to be set in motion, their scheduled meeting began forty-five minutes late, with a rearranged agenda and burned-smelling coffee.
It was a typical windowless conference room with a pushpin cork-board affixed to one