Taylor’s frown was minimal, but Lucien noticed it.

‘Stay with me,’ he said, ‘things will get clearer. Now, let’s say that these two brothers became avid music fans.’ Lucien winked at Hunter. ‘And they both liked the same style of music and the same music groups. They changed their looks and hairstyles to match the ones of their idols. They bought the albums.’ Lucien paused and smiled. ‘Well, that was back then, now they would just download the music, isn’t that right? Anyway, they had the T-shirts, the baseball hats, the posters, the badges . . . everything. They went to every concert that came to their town. But there was one difference. Brother “A” was content in just being a music fan. He was happy with just going to the gigs, listening to the songs back in his room, and dressing up like his idols. Brother “B”, on the other hand, wanted something more. Just being a fan, going to gigs, and listening to the music wasn’t enough for him. Something inside him told him that he needed to be part of the music circus. He needed to experience the real deal for himself. So brother “B” learns how to play an instrument, and he joins a band. And there we have it.’

Lucien allowed his words to float in the air, giving Taylor a moment to digest them before moving on.

‘It’s that little difference that makes all the difference, Agent Taylor. Why does brother “B”, after growing up in identical circumstances, wants something that little bit more than brother “A”? Why is one content with just being a fan, and the other isn’t?’

If Taylor was trying to think of an answer, Lucien didn’t wait.

‘That same theory can be easily transposed across to the desire to murder.’ This time his smirk was even more confident. ‘Some people with violent tendencies may be content with just fantasizing, with watching violent films, or reading violent books, or looking at violent pictures on the Internet, or punching a punch bag, or whatnot, but some . . .’ He shook his head slowly. ‘Some will feel the need to go that little bit further. To become brother “B”. And it’s this drive, the drive that makes us want something more than others, that Robert argued he didn’t think science will ever be able to pinpoint, at least not physically, because that drive is what makes us individuals. It’s what makes us all different from each other.’

Hunter kept on observing Lucien. He was getting excited with his own discourse, like a preacher in a church. Even more so because he could see that he’d made Taylor wonder.

‘Are you saying that Robert’s debate argument all those years ago is what tipped you into starting killing?’ Taylor said with a sarcastic lilt to her voice. ‘Are you looking for someone else to blame for everything you’ve done? Well, that’s typical.’

Lucien threw his head back and laughed animatedly. ‘Not at all, Agent Taylor. I’ve done what I’ve done because I wanted to.’ He pointed a finger at Hunter. ‘But physiology aside, that argument got me thinking, old friend, because that was when I realized that that was exactly what I needed to do. I needed to stop fantasizing. I needed to stop fighting the urge. I needed to move it to the next level . . . brother “B”. So I started planning. You see, one of the great things about studying criminology, Agent Taylor, is that we learn about some of the most infamous killers that have walked this earth. And believe me, I studied them in depth. I read and subscribed to specialized newspapers and magazines. I studied the writings of numerous prominent forensic psychiatrists. I learned about sex murderers, serial murderers, military murderers, mass murderers, and professional murderers. I studied massacres and murder conspiracies. I learned just about everything I could on the subject, but the one thing I paid particular attention to was . . . perpetrators’ mistakes. Especially the mistakes that led to their capture.’

Taylor decided to bite back. ‘Well, it looks like you didn’t pay that much attention after all, given your current predicament.’ She allowed her eyes to circle around his cell.

Lucien didn’t seem bothered by Taylor’s sharp comment.

‘Oh, I paid more than enough attention, Agent Taylor. Unfortunately no one can foresee accidents. The only reason I’m sitting here right now is not because I made a mistake, or due to any merit of your own or the organization you work for, but because an unfortunate chain of chance events took place seven days ago. Events that were out of my control. Admit it, Agent Taylor, the FBI had no idea I existed. You weren’t investigating me, any of my aliases, or any of the acts I committed.’

‘We would have eventually got to you,’ Taylor said.

‘But of course you would.’ Lucien grinned confidently. ‘Anyway, as I was saying, I started planning. And the first thing on my list was to find an isolated and anonymous place. Somewhere where I wouldn’t be disturbed. A place where I could take my time.’

‘And you found such a place in La Honda,’ Hunter said.

‘I sure did,’ Lucien confirmed. ‘Just an old, abandoned little house in the middle of the woods. It was close enough to Stanford that it wouldn’t take me long to get there. And the best thing about it was that I could use remote back roads to reach it. No one would spot me.’

Lucien stood up and stretched his powerful frame.

‘The place is still there,’ he said. ‘I visited it not that long ago.’ He didn’t sit back down. ‘You know what? I’ve got a little bit of a headache and I’m getting hungry. So what do you say we all take a break?’ He pulled his sleeve up and looked at his wrist as if he had a watch. ‘Let’s start again in two hours, how does that sound?’

‘Not good, Lucien,’ Hunter said. ‘Susan’s remains, where are they?’

‘Another two hours before you find out won’t make a difference, Robert. It’s not like you have to rush to save her, is it now?’

Forty-Seven

Outside, the sun was shining bright in yet another cloudless sky. It was the kind of warm and joyful day that made most people smile for no apparent reason, but the magic of the day didn’t seem to reach as far as the BSU building.

Hunter had found an empty meeting room somewhere on the second floor. He was standing by the window, staring out at nothing at all, when Taylor stepped inside and softly closed the door behind her.

‘So there you are.’

Without turning, Hunter checked his watch. It had only been ten minutes since they’d left Lucien in his cell, but to him it felt like hours.

‘Are you all right?’ Taylor asked, stepping closer.

‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ Hunter replied, his voice firm and confident.

Taylor hesitated an instant. ‘Listen, I need to get out of here for a while.’

Hunter turned and looked at her.

‘I need to go outdoors for an hour or so, breathe some fresh air or something before I go back down into that basement.’

Hunter could easily sympathize with her argument.

‘I know a place not very far from here where on a day like this, they’ll have tables outside,’ Taylor added. ‘Their food is great, but if you’re not hungry, their coffee is even better. What do you say we get the hell out of here for a bit?’

She didn’t have to ask twice.

Forty-Eight

Despite them having had their last meal over four and a half hours earlier, neither Hunter nor Taylor felt like eating. Hunter ordered a simple black coffee, while Taylor went for a double espresso. They were sitting at one of the outside tables at a small Italian cantina-style restaurant in Garrisonville Road, less than fifteen minutes’ drive from the FBI Academy.