the road.
Do you often have fantasies like that?
I have fantasies all the time.
Fantasies involving violence, death?
People die in my novels.
I have to think of new and interesting
ways to kill them.
What happens when
you don't take risks?
I'm sorry, there's no smoking in here.
It's a rule.
I don't like rules.
I have some of them,
and that's one of them.
After the hearing...
...I was interviewed by a reporter
from Urbane magazine.
Adam Towers. He said he knew you.
Slightly. Why?
He told me about the Cheslav case.
I was impressed by what you did.
You knew Cheslav was dangerous.
Still you protected him.
You honored his confidentiality...
...even at risk to yourself.
Do you think you made the right
decision?
Or do you think you fucked up?
Given what I knew at the time,
I made the right decision.
So you still believe in confidentiality.
Within legal limits.
What exactly are you concerned with?
If I told you
that I killed Kevin Franks...
...would you report me to the police?
No.
Anything that happened in the past,
I wouldn't discuss outside this room.
But if you told me you were going to
murder someone specifically...
...and I thought you were serious...
...then, yes, I'd go to the police.
I might be manipulating you
to create risk for myself.
Do you want to talk about
what happened to Kevin?
No, not really.
I was just checking your policy.
So have you decided?
About taking me on as a patient.
Shooter had an ex-wife,
a drinking problem...
... a drug problem, a complicated sex
problem he was barely aware of.
And a tremendous amount of
free-floating rage.
In short, he was a cop
and a very good one.
On March 3rd...
The woman knelt naked
at the foot of the bed.
Her back to him, her head on a pillow.
Shooter raked his fingers through her
blond hair and twisted it tight.
She groaned, her breath catching...
... as he suddenly yanked her hair like
a rider pulling on a horse's mane.
The veins on his arms bulged as
he roughly drew her onto him.
Do you remember
that cop Washburn?
To him, the fact that I wasn't upset
about Kevin Franks...
...was proof that I must've killed him.
Then, when I wouldn't break down...
...he hit on me.
Hit on you?
Yeah.
He said that if I fucked him things
would go easier.
Homicide cops
are usually smarter than that.
I knew one once, in San Francisco.
Nick Curran.
They called him Shooter.
We used to get in his car
and ride around...
...listening to 911 calls on his
scanner...
...then speed over.
Have you ever been to a murder scene
right after it happened?
The body's still warm.
The watch is still ticking.
You can smell the blood.
We'd hang around
for a while and then...
...go have sex in Nick's car.
Nick used to say:
"Death is always there.
It's the only thing that's real."
Except maybe sex sometimes.
But only sometimes?
Well...
...I fucked this guy last night.
I fucked him for hours.
You know,
we did everything to each other.
The full screaming Masters
and Johnson's greatest hits.
But you know, a week from now,
I probably won't even remember him.
But, if I was with him when he died...
Now...
...I probably would never forget that.
Would I?
Were you ever with anyone
when they died?
No.
Christ.
We still have 20 minutes left.
I feel like a cigarette.
See you tomorrow.
She just walked out?
How Lacanian.
For her, time's a weapon.
Everything's a weapon.
Everybody's an enemy.
Do you think she made it up about
the policeman? Washburn?
I don't know. It's so hard to believe
anything she says.
She's trying to seduce you.
They always try to seduce you.
Yes, but this one's different, isn't it?
I don't know. More fun maybe.
Be careful, Michael.
By the way, I got a call from that
reporter, Adam Towers.
What did he want?
I made