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“It’s my impression that it is unusual for Peeping Toms to graduate to home invasion,”

Jesse said.

“That is my impression as well,” Dix said.

“But it happens.”

“Yes,” Dix said.

“And it happened with this guy,” Jesse said.

“Unless he’s lying about being the Peeping Tom.”

“You think he is?”

“Don’t know,” Dix said.

“So, say it’s the truth. Why would someone take that step?”

“There’s no way to know, as was the case with your panty checker,” Dix said. “We have no idea what all of this means to him.”

“Peeping Tom work is so much less dangerous,” Jesse said. “And if you are caught, the consequences are much less severe.”

“Maybe that’s the charm of home invasion,” Dix said.

“The risk?”

“It seems from his letter that he wants to be caught,” Dix said.

“So we just sit around and wait until he catches himself?” Jesse said.

“He also doesn’t want to be caught,” Dix said.

“Conflicted,” Jesse said.

Dix smiled and nodded.

“And obsessive,” Jesse said.

Dix smiled and nodded again.

“If we knew why,” Jesse said.

“Probably wouldn’t do you much good,” Dix said. “A lot of obsessions are rooted in long-ago events that the obsessed aren’t even aware of.”

Jesse nodded.

“I mean, pretty much every guy I know would look at a nude woman if he could,” Jesse said.

Dix nodded.

“Wouldn’t you?”

Dix smiled.

“I’m behind the desk,” Dix said. “You’re in front of it.”

“Which means I don’t get to know anything about you?” Jesse said.

“You know several things,” Dix said.

“I know you used to be a cop and you used to be a drunk,” Jesse said.

“And you also know that I have a Ph.D. from Chicago, and an M.D. from Harvard.”

“How would I know that?” Jesse said.

“And you a trained detective,” Dix said.

He pointed to the diplomas framed on his wall.

“Okay,” Jesse said. “But you know what I’m saying. Most men are interested in female nudity.”

“Most straight men,” Dix said.

Jesse nodded.

“But most men don’t do what this guy does,” he said.

“Because they are not driven by his need,” Dix said.

“So what the fuck is his need?” Jesse said.

“There may be a clue,” Dix said. “In the letter he speaks of a need to see.”

“ ‘I need to see,’ ” Jesse quoted. “ ‘I need to know their secret.’ ”

“You didn’t miss it,” Dix said.

“What’s the secret?” Jesse said.

“We have no way to know,” Dix said.

“How about a guess?” Jesse said. “Anything is better than nothing.”

Dix paused and didn’t speak for a moment.

“There was a famous British aesthete,” Dix said, “who, on his wedding night, was so traumatized by the sight of his bride’s pubic hair that he could not consummate the marriage.”

“He was a virgin?” Jesse said.

“Apparently,” Dix said.

“That had to be a while ago,” Jesse said.

“Long time, yes,” Dix said. “It is difficult, in our time, to reach marriage age without being aware that women have pubic hair.”

“But,” Jesse said. “If it was a kid discovering that . . .”

“And the circumstances were sufficiently traumatizing . . .” Dix said.

“The shameful secret,” Jesse said.

Dix nodded.

“Every woman’s shameful secret,” Jesse said.

“To one degree or another,” Dix said.

“He might need to keep going over it,” Jesse said.

Dix shrugged.

“Might,” he said.

“Either because he is hoping it won’t be true this time?” Jesse said.

“Or because he wants to reaffirm the essential baseness of women,” Dix said.

“And the pictures would be evidence,” Jesse said. “Proof of the secret.”

“Maybe,” Dix said. “You’ve interviewed the victims?”

“Of course.”

“Did he touch them?”

“No. He never got close to them,” Jesse said.

“Threaten them?”

“Just along the lines of ‘Do what I say and you won’t get hurt,’ ” Jesse said.

“Verbally abusive?”

“No,” Jesse said. “Course, it might not be that.”

“True,” Dix said.

“Might be something entirely different,” Jesse said.

“Might,” Dix said.

“So what difference does it make?” Jesse said.

“None that I can see,” Dix said.

“So why are we talking about it?”

“It’s your session,” Dix said.

Jesse was silent for a moment.

Then he said, “Maybe it’s better than talking about me.”

Dix nodded and looked at his watch.

“Or maybe you think it is,” Dix said. “Let’s talk about that next time.”

31

SUIT CAME into Jesse’s office and sat down across the desk from him.

“And now,” he said, “this update from swingers’ correspondent Suitcase Simpson.”

“You converted yet?”

“I been trying to,” Suit said. “But like I told you, no single guys.”

“Maybe you could bring Cissy Hathaway,” Jesse said.

“That’s over,” Suit said. “She’s too old for me.”

“Lotta people are,” Jesse said. “Whaddya got?”

“I been talking to Kim Magruder—Kim Clark—like you said.”

“And?”

Suit shrugged.

“I feel kind of bad for her,” Suit said. “I mean, she was the golden girl, you know, going steady with the star quarterback.”

“Chase Clark,” Jesse said.

“Yeah, and he knocked her up. And she was real Catholic and”?Suit shrugged?“they had to get married.”

“And produced Missy,” Jesse said.

“Yep. They got a little boy, too. Eric.”

“Why do you feel sorry for her?” Jesse said.

“One, because she’s married to Chase Clark, who’s a fucking jerk. Two, because she doesn’t like the swinging thing. But does it because she thinks she has to, to save her marriage.”

“She say so?”

“Not exactly. But I’m pretty sure,” Suit said.

Jesse nodded.

“She more talkative about things this time?”

“Yeah, much,” Suit said. “Once we were alone, you know, Debbie Lupo wasn’t around.”

“Now Debbie Basco,” Jesse said.

“Right,” Suit said. “Once Debbie wasn’t around, Kimmy kind of relaxed. We talked a little about high school and me dating her kid sister and where Tammy is now, and what she’s doing, and like that. But from the start it seemed like she wanted to talk about the wife-swapping thing. Like she needed to talk with someone about it.”

Jesse nodded again.

“She’s known you since you were kids. You used to date her little sister.”

“It was like, how threatening could I be?” Suit said. “Little Luther Simpson.”

“She calls you Luther?”

“Never mind about that,” Suit said.

“Anything that might help us with the Night Hawk?” Jesse said.

“I’m not sure,” Suit said. “There are people who like to watch their spouse with someone else.”

“Men?” Jesse said.

“Yeah.”

“Names?”

“She won’t tell me names,” Suit said. “It’s like a club rule.”

“You think if you brought her in, she’d talk to me?” Jesse said.

“Not here,” Suit said.

“Where?” Jesse said.

“I don’t know,” Suit said. “I’ll ask her. What do I tell her about why?”

“I got two reasons,” Jesse said. “One is the Night Hawk, and two is her daughter.”

“I thought you promised the daughter you wouldn’t give her away.”

“I did, and I won’t. It’s why I need to talk with her,” Jesse said. “I have to feel my way along.”

“I can’t tell her that,” Suit said.