“The corpus callosum is typically bigger in psychopaths! We’re seeing as much as a thirty percent difference.”
“The corpus callosum can vary from five to nine millimeters in normal individuals! I don’t want to echo what others have said and come up against the same criti cism. I believe the differences between ‘psychopath’ and ‘normal’ lie in the microwiring of the brain.”
“Brain scans don’t show us the microwiring!”
“That’s true. Which is why we need better procedures before we publish.”
“So until we get these ‘better procedures,’ we’re just going to toss aside the fact that we’re consistently seeing a larger striatum in psychopaths?”
“A striatum is no simple thing! It’s a connected set of structures, each with its own subcomponents, and we don’t yet understand all the functions of those structures. Considering that, how can we say what’s normal and what isn’t?”
“We know the whole complex plays a role in learning, motor control and integrating information—”
“But we don’t have enough data to confirm that a larger striatum is positively linked to psychopathy. We can’t even say that psychopaths definitely show lower levels of activity in the prefrontal cortex. While we’ve seen that trend, we’ve also seen, with our larger sample and our own scans, that activity levels in the PFC can vary in the same individual from one day to the next.”
He threw up his hands. “So you won’t do it. I came all the way to Alaska just to research indefinitely, with no end goal in sight?”
“We’re doing everything we can to reach solid conclusions—and to share them. We’re just not there yet, James. I can’t change reality, no matter how frustrated you are. Give it a little more time. We’ll only lose credibility—and possibly our funding—if we publish too soon. Why not take advantage of the opportunity to research in depth before making any kind of blanket statements?”
He scratched his head as he paced in front of her desk. She could tell he was trying to come up with an argument that might sway her, but she’d already made up her mind.
“We have Mary Harpe, our first female psychopath, arriving today,” she said, hoping to distract him. “Including her in our studies might tell us something new. And having her here opens up other issues we can examine. You know how a male with psychopathic traits is more likely to be diagnosed as a psychopath, while a female with the same traits is likely to be given the benefit of the doubt. We’re just getting started. We still have a lot of work to do.”
His expression said he was reluctant to be mollified but was intrigued in spite of himself. “When will Mary arrive?”
“You didn’t get the e-mail?” Evelyn notified all personnel whenever they were expecting a high-security transfer.
“I haven’t checked my inbox recently.” He gave her a pointed look. “I’ve been busy writing the paper I was hoping we’d publish.”
She ignored that last part. “By the time the plane lands in Anchorage and the marshals bring her over, my guess is it’ll be one or so.”
“Okay,” he relented, and started to leave.
“You’re not going to say anything about Sierra Yerbowitz?” she asked before he could clear the door.
“About what? The fact that her body’s been discovered?”
“Yes. Along with another body. What do you think happened?”
He rested his hands on his hips. “Well, we know Tim Fitzpatrick isn’t to blame this time.”
She frowned at the sarcasm. “I didn’t blame Tim for the last murders. He was charged by the police and convicted by a jury of his peers.” She almost added that she had someone looking into his case, on the off chance he was innocent, but decided not to go into that.
“It’s not like seeing him go to prison broke your heart.”
“After what he did to me, do you think it should have?”
Finally, he seemed to let go of the resentment that had pervaded the conversation so far. “No, I don’t. He was wrong to do what he did. So what do you think happened to Sierra Yerbowitz and the other victim?”
She almost admitted that she thought Jasper was back, but refused to make that conclusion public when there were still other possibilities. “We obviously have someone very dangerous in our midst.”
“Here in Hilltop?”
“That’d be my guess. Although the bodies were found an hour and a half away, Sierra was taken from a cabin not far from here. And something that ties in to the other murder—I can’t say what—was discovered down the road. So even if the culprit doesn’t live in the area, he could easily work here.”
“You’re not including Hanover House in that statement…”
“It doesn’t matter if I include Hanover House or not. Amarok definitely does, and I can’t blame him. As he says, we’re the biggest employer in the area.”
He rolled his eyes as he shook his head. “Great. That’s just what my wife needs to hear. She’ll insist we leave Alaska right away.”
Penny entered the common area outside Evelyn’s office, along with several others who provided clerical support for the team. Evelyn could see them through the interior glass of her office and returned the waves she received. “We need to instruct everyone to keep a sharp eye out,” she said. “We can’t let anyone else get hurt.”
“Will you make an official announcement?” he asked.
She remembered how frightened Penny and everyone else had been—including herself—when Lorraine Drummond, her friend and the woman who ran the kitchen at Hanover House, was murdered eighteen months ago. The fact that Hilltop was so remote was supposed to make the institution safer for society in general, but it made the danger of having a psychopath on the loose even worse for the locals. “I am,” she said. “Tim created a tip sheet when … when we needed it last time. I’ll send that out again.”
James seemed skeptical. “The question is, will that be enough?”
If they were talking about Jasper, Evelyn knew it wouldn’t be. If he wanted to take another victim, he’d find a way, and James’s wife was at home alone all day, which left her vulnerable. But Evelyn didn’t have time to reassure her colleague. Penny interrupted them by popping in to tell her that the crew from the Alaska Dispatch News was going through the security checkpoint.
She had a difficult day ahead, and it all started with this interview.
*
Brianne couldn’t sleep. It was four hours later in Boston, past noon. She wanted to drive over to Hanover House and see the prison. After all, that damn thing had cost her the company of her sister for the past two years—even more if Brianne counted all the days and nights Evelyn had been completely consumed with lobbying for it in the years before it was built. But Evelyn had told her Hanover House would be getting a new inmate today, so it wasn’t the best time. She’d had Amarok drop her off at work, leaving her vehicle for Brianne to use. She’d suggested Brianne explore the town today and wait until tomorrow to see the prison, when Evelyn would be available to give her the grand tour.
Brianne had agreed, but it wasn’t going to take long to see the town. If she blinked, she’d miss it. There were only a few blocks lined with rustic buildings and snow piled along both sides of the road. In other words, not much to hold her interest. The beauty of Alaska wasn’t in its architecture or its shopping. It was in the raw land—the towering mountains, clear rivers and lakes upon lakes upon lakes. It was also in the wildlife. She’d seen a moose walking down the street, just lumbering along as if it was no big deal, as she was driving away from Amarok’s house.