Robert D. Hare, a well-known researcher in the field of criminal psychology.
“The PCL-R separates behavior into two categories: aggressive narcissism and socially deviant lifestyle.”
She paused to look between Matt and Tony. But there was no more of their sophomoric humor. They were paying rapt attention.
She went on: “Within these two categories, Hare lists separate character traits that the patient may or may not have. For each, he assigns a grade between zero and two. The higher the sum, the more severe the patient’s pathology.”
She paused and looked around the table.
“Everyone still with me?”
There were nods. Matt grunted an “Uh-huh.”
“All right,” she continued, “under aggressive narcissism are: superficial charm, a grand sense of self-worth, pathological lying, being cunning and manipulative, no remorse or guilt, shallowness, a cold lack of empathy, and inability to take responsibility for his own actions.”
Matt Payne perked up. “Well, hell, that pretty much paints the perfect picture of most bad guys.”
Amy nodded. “Right. But there’s also Hare’s other component. Under socially deviant lifestyle are these traits: a need to be stimulated; can’t handle being bored; a lifestyle that’s parasitic; can’t control own behavior; promiscuity; no long-term goals, at least ones that are realistic; being impulsive; irresponsibility; juvenile delinquency; childhood behavior problems. And one or two others I can’t recall just now.”
She paused and drained her glass.
“And that ends my speech,” she said. “You add all those up, and you have your psychopath.”
Byrth grunted. “I do indeed wish we did have our psychopath. He needs to be off the streets.”
Matt Payne looked at Amanda Law and said, “While we’re on topics that are uncomfortable, Amanda, am I allowed to ask about Becca?”
She looked at Matt and could see his concern was genuine.
“There’s more than professional curiosity, isn’t there? You do care about her, don’t you?”
Amy said to Amanda, “At Episcopal Academy, Matt used to have a crush on her.” Amy looked at him. “Didn’t you, Matt?”
“A crush?” Amanda repeated. “How sweet!”
Payne shot his sister a glare.
“You’re Episcopalian?” Byrth said.
Payne nodded. “Not exactly a practicing one, but I’ve kept the faith, so to speak.”
“So am I. Remarkable. But then, in this crowd, I guess not.” He paused. “And I understand your disappointment with the church and its politics these days. Me, I’m with whoever said that going to church no more makes you holy than standing in a Porsche showroom makes you a sports car.”
Everyone at the table laughed.
Matt said, “Let’s not get started on religion tonight, too.”
“Sorry,” Byrth said, shrugging.
“Amanda,” Matt said, first looking at Amy then turning to Amanda, “for the record, Becca and I never had a relationship. But, yeah, we were kind of close growing up. And I cared about her. Enough to be disgusted with her getting involved with that goddamn Skipper Olde.”
“Matthew,” Jason Washington said solemnly, “I know your mother taught you not to speak ill of the departed.”
“There’s exceptions to every rule, Jason. And I’m still pissed off at Skipper-RIP, ol’ buddy-for putting Becca in this situation.”
Dr. Law smiled warmly at his explanation.
“Your concern is sweet,” she said with sincerity. “But, I’m sorry, I just can’t discuss a patient. It wouldn’t be ethical.”
Matt could tell from the way she said it that she truly was sorry.
“She’s worse, Matt,” Amy blurted. “That intracranial hypertension has not subsided. It’s looking more and more like Amanda will have to induce the coma.”
Dr. Law looked at Dr. Payne and said, “Amy!”
“For the record, Matt,” Dr. Amy Payne said, “that information I got directly from Mrs. Benjamin. She shared with me what Becca’s attending physician”-she glanced at Amanda Law, who now looked less horrified-“had told to Mr. and Mrs. Benjamin.”
Matt made a face, then drained his drink.
He looked at Dr. Law and was again amazed by her air of complete confidence.
She oozes it.
What a woman…
He said, “Amanda, can you describe in broad terms-just hypothetically, nothing patient-specific-what inducing a coma involves?”
Dr. Amanda Law considered that a moment.
Then she nodded and said, “Sure. With a brain injury, fluids collect in the brain and cause it to swell. The skull, however, does not expand to allow for the fluids, so that basically causes the brain to be compacted, and blood, and the oxygen in it, is prevented from reaching all of its parts. That can cause brain damage, even death.”
Matt shook his head.
She took a sip of her wine, then went on: “When conventional therapy fails, and we are unable to surgically open the skull to drain the fluids, we carefully consider the barbiturate-induced coma. The coma reduces brain activity, but that has to be balanced against the side effects of the drug.”
“What side effects?” Matt said.
“It could stress the cardiovascular system to the point where it causes more harm. And there can be complications-from infections, deep blood clots-leading to death.”
“Jesus!” Matt said, sighed, and refilled his glass with more Famous Grouse.
“The positive part,” Dr. Law went on, “is that the barbiturates act to reverse all that. They reduce the brain tissue’s metabolic rate and the flow of cerebral blood, causing the brain’s blood vessels to narrow, which decreases the swelling.”
“But even if all that works,” Dr. Amy Payne added, “there’s still a long recovery period. Becca’s not out of the woods by a long shot.”
Matt looked at Amanda. She nodded her agreement with Amy. “Hypothetically, of course.”
She checked her wristwatch, then pushed back her chair.
“I hate to be rude and run,” she said, “but I’m going to have to be rude and run right after I visit the little girls’ room.”
She stood, and Matt popped to his feet to help with her chair.
She smiled her thanks, then added, “Tomorrow is going to come too quickly. And I don’t usually get out like this. It’s been delightful.”
Jason Washington checked his watch.
“I concur,” he said. “No rest for the weary. Matthew, what about the tab?”
“It’s taken care of,” Jim Byrth said. “The great state of Texas appreciates those who help her Texas Rangers.”
Washington grinned. “And yet another reason to like the legendary lawmen of the West.”
As Matt watched Amanda walk toward the ladies’ room, he felt an elbow in his right side.
He turned to see Byrth handing him a napkin.
“What’s this for?” Matt said.
“Traditionally, for wiping food from one’s lips. You, however, might want to try your chin. You’re drooling.”
“That bad, huh?”
Byrth shook his head. But he was grinning.
“More like disgusting,” Amy Payne put in.
