"Some fun, eh?"
"Do you always work this way?"
"I've had harder cases."
"Harder? How?"
"You're wrong about one thing. We do know there's a needle that we're looking for. At least I know it. Swann is at work, believe me."
"But how do you know that?"
"How do you know a thirsty man will drink?"
"It can't be as simple as that."
Becker looked at her for a moment. She felt herself squirming under his gaze.
"It's not simple," he said at last. "It's very complicated, but it comes out the same way in the end. The thingss he goes through before he acts is actually very prolonged and tortured. I'll explain it to you someday if you really want to know."
"We studied it at the academy," Pegeen said. "I know some thing about it."
Becker smiled ruefully.
Be grateful that you don't. Not the first thing. You're fortunate that you haven't got a clue."
"What a lucky girl," she said.
"Sometime, when you've got about six hours to kill, I'll tell you about it."
How about tonight, she thought, trying to keep her smile from spreading from the back of her throat to her lips.
"Whenever you feel like talking, I'm happy to listen,' she said. She nodded slightly, attempting to convey serious empathy while keeping it all in the framework of business. She wondered how'good she was at it; she certainly felt clumsy and obvious, but maybe not obvious for Becker.
He had seemed mildly annoyed with her since she met him at the airport a few days ago, sometimes downright angry.
"Thanks," he said, turning back to the map, placing no weight of any kind on his thank-you.
"Do you know what really surprises me?" Pegeen asked, trying to keep the conversation going.
He raised his eyebrows slightly, waiting.
"That it works this way," she said. "I mean the whole process. Look at this: we're after a serial killer, one man in the whole country who has the potential to kill dozens of people. We're a part of a huge, professional, highly organized organization, and what does this manhunt consist of? You and me and a computer and a map. Before I entered the Bureau, even during the academy, for that matter, I had this image of the FBI, this massive organization hurling itself into battle all at once. Do you know what I'm talking about?"
"I've been in a while," Becker said. "I'm used to it, but go on."
"Well, I don't know, I just always had this notion that if the Federal Bureau of Investigation was after you, you were in trouble, you were in really deep shit."
"We've got good public relations people," Becker said.
"I don't mean that we're not good," she said.
"Sometimes."
"This is not a disloyal statement, you understand. It's just-it's us, isn't it? I mean, I know we can call on agents all over the country if we have to. We can have a lot of people knocking on a lot of doors and we've got all that great scientific stuff, it does amazing things-but really, when you get down to it, this case is just you and me going over a list of names."
"Not quite what you envisioned, is it?"
"No."
"In fact, most of the time it's boring as hell, right?" Becker asked.
"I didn't say that; it's not really boring, it's morepainstaking.". "Tedious, I'd say. But that's the way it works. It's all the nuts and bolts; you've got to sort them by hand. The only intuition comes in knowing what kind of nut you're looking for in the first place."
"At least we know our nut," Pegeen said. "We're lucky in that."
"We know him," Becker said, his attitude suddenly dark. "Know him well.
I don't call that lucky."
By the second day of sifting reports, they had a list of manageable size. Pegeen drove the backroads from one small town to the next while Becker lapsed into darker and darker moods. Now that they were actually in the field, interviewing acquaintances of the missing women, Pegeen thought that Becker was sinking somehow, as if the presence of Swann underground with a victim was creating a special gravity that drew him down deeper and deeper into himself, into some black pit of his inner being.
He was still crisp and alert when interviewing people, using that curious blend of detached efficiency and sudden knowing intimacy that worked so effectively for him, but afterwards, when he was alone in the car again with Pegeen, Becker would slump into the seat and seem to slump in his spirit as well.
On the second day of driving, she asked him if it was her fault.
"What?"
"Are you mad at me about something? Have I done something to annoy you?"
"What are you talking about?"
"You haven't realy spoken to me except to grunt in two days. In fact, you've seem pissed off at me ever since you showed up."
"I'm not mad at you, Haddad. Why would I be?"
"I don't know. That's why I'm asking."
"I'm not. You're doing a fine job."
"I haven't done anything yet."
"You're doing it well, though."
"I thought there was something about me that rubbed you the wrong way."
"I'd rather be doing this with you than anyone else I know," Becker said. "Any other agent would be trying to get me to cheer up."
"Fuck you, sorry I asked."
"Would it help if I told you that I'm quiet because I'm thinking?"
"Shouldn't we think together? I might be able to help My brain works sometimes, too."
"I guess it wouldn't help to tell you that, then. The fact is, I'm not thinking. I'm just depressed."
"What about?"
"What's going to happen," he said.
"What's going to happen? What is going to happen?"
Becker scrunched into the passenger seat so far that his knees rested on the dashboard. "We're going to find him," he said.
"How do you know?"
Becker did not answer. He rolled his head to one side and looked at the pine trees moving past the window.
"Are you sure we're going to find him?" Pegeen insisted.
"Yeah."
"Well, that's great, isn't it? That's what we want, isn't it?"
Becker grunted, but she was not certain it was in assent.
"Why does that depress you?"
"Because of what comes after that."
"What?. What comes after that?… What do you mean?"
"Pegeen, I like you," he said, startling her with the use of her first name. "I like you a lot. One of the things I like most about you is your innocence. You'll lose that eventually, but I'll be sorry to see it go."
"Could you be a little more patronizing, do you think?
I've been around a little bit, you know. I just look innocent. It's my goddamned complexion."
"I like your complexion."
"Yeah, I'll bet."
"I do. It makes you look innocent."
"Very funny. Look, Becker, I'm an agent, I'm trained, I have a badge, I have a gun, I'm legally authorized to shoot people. I'm not innocent, I'm not a child. You chose me to come along with you on this assignment; you could have had anyone but you chose me. You didn't do it because of my innocence."
"You haven't figured out why I chose you yet?"
"I have suspicions."
"What do you think?"
"So you can make fun of me, is what it looks like. Tell me what you're talking about."
"Let it go."
"You know what passive-aggressive is, don't you?" she demanded. "It's not very becoming."
"You checked me out, right?" Becker asked.
"What do you mean?"
"I said you were innocent, not dumb. You asked around to find out about me. If not last time, sure as hell this time."
"Okay. I just thought…
"Don't apologize. I would have done the same thing."
"Did you?" she asked.
Becker laughed. "Yeah. I checked you out."
"What did you find out?"