But all Bishop said was, "He can't change who he is no matter how hard he tries. He'll try, of course. Try to overcome his urges and impulses, or just try to satisfy them in some way that won't betray who he is. But he'll give himself away somehow. They always do."

"At least to hunters who know what to look for."

"The problem isn't knowing what to look for, it's the sickening knowledge that he has to kill again to give us something to look at."

"Always assuming he hasn't killed again and the murder was just different enough to fly under the radar." LeMott wasn't about to let that idea go, it was clear.

Bishop said, "That is a possibility, of course. Maybe even a probability. So I can't say with any certainty that he has or hasn't killed again since he murdered your daughter."

If he had hoped to distract LeMott, back him away, shake him somehow with those last three very deliberate words, Bishop was disappointed, because the senator didn't flinch. He didn't even blink. He just responded to the information Bishop had provided earlier.

"And yet you know he headed south. That he's somewhere near Atlanta."

Shit.

"And you know how I can be certain of that-without any real evidence-when the federal and police task force is still combing Boston for any sign of him."

"You are certain?"

"In my own mind, yes. He's not in Boston anymore. He's somewhere near Atlanta. Probably not the city itself, though it's certainly large enough to get lost in."

"You have someone there?"

"Senator, I've spent years building a network, and it's still growing. We have people just about everywhere."

"Human people. Fallible people."

Bishop heard the bitterness. "Yes, I'm afraid so. We believe he's in the area. We suspect he may have killed again. But we have no hard evidence of either belief-and the visible trail ends in Boston."