Free Blood Memory by Greg Iles

families about where they went. The only reason we figured it out is because they were obsessive about keeping up with their money. They had amazingly detailed private records.
    “The FBI psychiatrist at Quantico says there’s a strong possibility that Dr. Malik could be doing the murders himself. There’s something called countertransference, where a shrink vicariously experiences the pain of his patients. The FBI shrink says that could trigger Malik to commit revenge murder just as if he’d been abused himself. And Malik would have the knowledge to stage the scenes to look like garden-variety sexual homicide.”
    “Has anyone talked to Dr. Malik yet?”
    “No, but he’s under surveillance.”
    “How old is he?”
    “Fifty-three.”
    This is outside the age range of the FBI’s standard serial-killer profile, but well within the bounds of possibility, based on the literature. I can’t believe the adrenaline flowing through my veins. “What happens next?”
    “That’s what I’m calling you about. We want you to check Nathan Malik’s dental records. See if they match the bite marks on the bodies.”
    “You already have them?”
    “No.”
    “When will you?”
    “I’m not sure yet.”
    “I don’t get it. What’s going on, Sean?”
    “We’ve got the name of Malik’s dentist. And since you know damn near every dentist in the New Orleans area, we were hoping you could have an informal chat with this one. Maybe get a look at some faxed dental records. Just enough to tell if Malik is the killer or not.”
    A red flag goes up in my mind. “An ‘informal’ chat? You’re shitting me.”
    “No.”
    “Who wants this, Sean? The task force? Or you?”
    The resulting pause is long enough for me to guess the answer. “Are you out of your mind? There’s no way a dentist is going to let me see his records without a court order. Not with all the new HIPAA regulations. When can you get a court order?”
    “The task force is debating that now. The problem is, as soon as we ask for those records, we tip Malik to our interest in him.”
    “So? If his dental records match the bite marks on the victims, that won’t matter. But if I break the law to get an ‘informal’ look at those records—or Malik’s dentist breaks it—and that’s brought out at trial, couldn’t that get Malik off?”
    “If it came out at trial, yes. But you’re part of the old boy network in this town. In dentistry anyway.”
    “You’re wrong about that, Sean. I’m tolerated—maybe grudgingly respected. But if I—”
    “Cat.” His voice is filled with presumptuousness.
    “Do you really want to stop this guy that badly? Or do you just want the glory of catching him?”
    “That’s not fair.”
    “Bullshit. This killer’s been hitting one victim a week. It’s only been twenty-four hours since his last strike. We have some time. The task force does, I mean.”
    Sean doesn’t reply. In the silence, I try to divine his true motivation. He likes glory, but there’s something deeper at work here. He’s speaking again, but I don’t catch what he’s saying, because suddenly I understand.
    “You’re trying to save your job.”
    I know from the silence that I’m right. “Does Captain Piazza want to fire you because of us?”
    “Piazza will never fire me,” he says with bravado. “I make her look too good.”
    “Maybe. But she’d damn sure yank you off the task force. And bringing in a positive ID on the killer before the Bureau can would put you back into her good graces, wouldn’t it?”
    More silence. “I need this, Cat.”
    “Maybe so. But jailing this killer is more important than your job.”
    “I know that. I’m just—”
    “No way, Sean. I’ve broken a lot of rules for you, but I’ve never put a conviction in jeopardy. I won’t do it now.”
    “Okay, okay. But look…at least tell me if you know the dentist. His name is Shubb. Harold Shubb.”
    I feel a quick rush of excitement. Harold Shubb is part of