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“And now it’s maybe three girls he’s killed.”

He slid the glass on the table. It stopped beside a large bowl of cashews. Another bowl next to it was almost empty of its stick pretzels. Also on the table was a collection of glasses and bottles, the latter consisting of one each Old Bushmills Irish Whiskey, Famous Grouse, Jack Daniel’s, and Concho y Toro Shiraz wine.

“We don’t automatically jump at the term ‘psychopath,’” Dr. Amelia Payne said.

“I do,” Byrth said. “Among other choice words that my manners do not allow to be repeated in such polite company.”

Amy, holding a half-full glass of red wine, said, “The reason we don’t is because psychopathy is the most severe condition. It’s found in only one percent of the population.”

Byrth said, “Doc, with all respect-if it walks like a duck and talks like a duck, it’s a damned duck.”

Amy stared at the Texas Ranger, clearly considering her next words.

Before she could speak, he added, “That, or it’s la folie raisonnante.”

“What the hell is that?” Matt Payne said, reaching for the bottle of wine.

“Impressive,” Amy said, nodding appreciatively.

She smiled at Byrth.

Holding the bottle by its bottom, Matt poured more of the Chilean Shiraz into Dr. Amanda Law’s glass.

Amanda silently mouthed the words “Thank you.”’It was somewhat exaggerated, and Matt saw that it caused the tip of her tongue to linger between her lips for a long moment. His pulse raced.

How do I get a taste of that particular fine vintage?

After a moment, Payne heard his sister clearing her throat, each time more noisily. When he looked in her direction, he saw that she had her arm stretched out and was impatiently rocking her now-empty glass at him.

The Black Buddha, holding in his ball mitt of a hand a golden-colored Bushmills martini, chuckled deeply at the sight.

Matt reached over and refilled his sister’s stem.

Jim Byrth explained, “In 1801, Phillippe Pinel described his patients as la folie raisonnante.”

“Okay, and that means…?” Matt said, returning the bottle to the table and picking up his glass of Famous Grouse.

“ ‘Insane without delirium,’” Byrth explained, looking at him. “Pinel found his patients were not necessarily impaired mentally. Yet they still committed impulsive acts that were harmful to themselves. So he called it ‘insane without delirium.’ ”

Byrth looked at Amy.

“We had a serial killer loose in Texas a few years back. He traveled around by hopping trains, killing near tracks all across the state. I did some research on psychopaths during that, and afterward. Fascinating stuff.” He paused. “I know just enough to be dangerous, Doc.”

He smiled.

She smiled back.

Then she asked, “Would you like me to give you my version?”

“I certainly would,” Detective Anthony Harris said. “But please try to use little words for young Matthew’s sake.”

Dr. Amanda Law laughed out loud.

Matt mock-glared at Tony. With the glass resting in his right palm, he held up his drink in a salute-the middle finger and thumb extended-and said, “Et tu, Brute?”

Harris grinned when he saw that Payne was giving him the bird.

Payne then took a healthy sip and put down the glass.