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this way?”
    “Yes. Is there a problem?”
    “Not at all.”
    “What, then?”
    “The way you spoke about this earlier showed a lot of passion. The organization shows a lot of logic.” What he was thinking was that her passion reminded him of Madeleine and her logic reminded him of himself. “This sounds like something I’d have written.”
    She gave him a sly look. “I guess that’s a compliment, right?”
    He laughed out loud for the first time that day, maybe the first time that month. After a pause he glanced back at the last item of the contents list. “I assume TGS stands for ‘The Good Shepherd.’ What about the MOI?”
    “Oh, that was his actual heading on the twenty-page explanation he sent to the media and the police: ‘Memorandum of Intent.’ ”
    Gurney nodded. “Now I remember. The media started calling it a‘manifesto’—the same label they’d slapped on the Unabomber document five years earlier.”
    Now it was Kim’s turn to nod. “Which kind of brings us to one of the questions I wanted to ask you—about the whole serial-killer thing. It seems kind of confusing. I mean, the Unabomber and the Good Shepherd don’t seem to have much in common with Jeffrey Dahmer and Ted Bundy—or with those monsters you arrested yourself, like Peter Piggert or that Satanic Santa guy who was mailing pieces of his victims to the local cops.
Jeez!
That kind of behavior isn’t even human!” A visible tremor passed through her body. She rubbed her upper arms energetically, as if to warm them.
    Somewhere outside in the gray Syracuse sky, Gurney could hear the distinctive throbbing of a helicopter grow gradually louder, then fainter, then fade away into silence. “Some social scientists would be annoyed at me for this,” he said, “but the whole ‘serial killer’ concept, like a lot of the terminology in the field, has fuzzy edges. Sometimes I think these ‘scientists’ are just a self-consecrated bunch of labelers who’ve managed to form a moneymaking club. They conduct questionable research, lump similar behaviors or characteristics together into a ‘syndrome,’ give it a scientific-sounding name, then offer degree courses that allow like-minded muddleheads to memorize the labels, pass a test, and join the club.”
    He noticed she was staring at him with some surprise.
    Aware that he was sounding testy—and that the testiness probably had as much to do with his prevailing mood as with the state of criminology—he changed course. “The short answer to your question is that from the point of view of apparent motive there doesn’t seem to be much common ground between a cannibal turned on by power and control and a guy who claims he’s rectifying societal ills. But there may be more of a connection than you think.”
    Kim’s eyes widened. “You mean, they’re both killing people? And you think that’s what it’s all about, regardless of what the motive looks like on the surface?”
    Gurney was struck by her energy, her intensity. It made him smile. “The Unabomber said he was trying to eliminate the destructive effects of technology on the world. The Good Shepherd, if I remember correctly, said he was trying to eliminate the destructiveeffects of greed. And yet despite the intelligence apparent in their written statements, they both chose a counterproductive route to their stated goals. Killing people could never achieve what they
said
they wanted to achieve. There’s only one way that route makes any sense.”
    Her mind seemed to race almost visibly. “You mean, if the route was actually the goal.”
    “Right. We often get them reversed—the means and the end. The actions of the Unabomber and the Good Shepherd make perfect sense—if you base them on the assumption that the killing itself was the real goal—the emotional payoff—and the so-called manifestos were the enabling justifications.”
    She blinked, looked like she was trying to grasp the implications for her project. “But