He laughed and shook his head before stepping aside. “No. I have something else in mind.”
A shiver shot down my spine with the way he said that.
9
First
Itook out my notebook. Loose pages stuck out at odd angles, and the front cover was cracked in a few places. Still, it was the most important object in my life, and it meant everything to me. I opened it to a blank lined page and readied my pen.
“I’ll be referring to you as the subject when I’m writing notes, so nothing ever connects back to you, but do you have anything you want me to call you when we’re talking?” I asked, sitting on the edge of the sofa. My heart hammered. This was finally happening. I couldn’t tell if I was more excited or afraid, but in that moment, it didn’t matter.
“I’ll get back to you on that.”
I nodded and jotted down the date and time. “What is your earliest memory?”
“So you can make sense of why I’m the way I am?” He cocked his head. “I hate to break it to you, but I had loving parents. Good childhood. Earliest memory is the first day of kindergarten. The teacher was kind, and I made some friends.” He leaned forward, elbows against his knees, as those black eyeholes stared at me. “Not every serial killer has a traumatic backstory.”
“I know. It depends on individuals. Nature versus nurture and all.” I shrugged as I jotted down more notes. “I’m also not a psychologist or psychiatrist, though?”
“But you have knowledge of the subject.”
He knew what my courses had been in, which meant he’d likely looked at my student profile. There wasn’t any use in trying to hide it. “Yes.”
“People are fascinating that way, aren’t they? Put two in the same kind of environment, and they turn out vastly different.”
“What about your adolescence?”
“Ah,” he raised a finger, “that would be a subject for the next interview.”
I nodded, making a note adolescence seemed to be a more difficult subject to talk about. “Did you have any siblings?”
“Only child.”
After speaking some more, his answers got shorter and shorter, and I decided a break was in order. I closed my notebook and stretched the elastic to keep the cover closed. For a first interview, I was happy with the results. “Thank you. That was very helpful.”
He reached into his jacket, and I scooted back with a small gasp as he pulled out a photo. “Now, now. I wouldn’t kill you after just the one interview.”
His gaze searched me as though trying to see if I’d caught his underlying meaning. “What a relief.” I didn’t bother hiding the sarcasm in my tone. He was all about subtle little jabs, and I wasn’t above dishing it back.
He handed me the picture. “You recall how I gave the example of being bait?”
“Seriously? You’re starting with a huge favor?” I took the photo and stared at the profile of a good-looking man. Late thirties, maybe mid-forties; it was difficult to tell for sure. His dark brown hair had a few strands of silver, and his beard was short and well-groomed. From the angle, I couldn’t see much else save he wore a nice black dress shirt. He reminded me a bit of that actor?Jeffrey Dean Morgan?just slightly younger.
“Not a favor. Myaskfor the post-interview,” he said cheerfully. “Do you know where The Swill Bar and Grill is?”
I nodded; I hadn’t stepped foot in any kind of after-hours place since quitting codeine. My pulse quickened at the thought, but I pushed away the thoughts of the painless high that drug gave me. “Near Bank Street, right?”
“That’s right.” He tapped the photo still in my hands. “You’ll go there tonight at ten o’clock and find this man.”
My hand trembled, and I lowered it; I didn’t want him to know I was scared. “And then what?”
“I’ll communicate to you what to do next.” He got to his feet, and I bolted upright as well. Not that sitting and standing was much different with his height. He leaned into my space, and I froze. “Dress for the occasion,” he said with a chuckle, then left without another word.
I wasn’t sure how long I stayed still in the main room of my apartment, but it felt like a ridiculous amount. I grabbed my phone from the coffee table and set an alarm for nine o’clock; I preferred being too early than too late. Especially since I had no idea what would happen if I failed one of his favors?or asks, or whatever he wanted to call them.
With the alarm set, I opened the closet and sifted through the clothes. These were all dresses, but none seemed quite right for a bar and grill. They were either summer dresses or for nightclubs; skimpy. Finally, I picked a dark red one. Sleeveless with a v-shaped opening at my chest and an open slit at the bottom for easier walking. I picked a pair of black high-heeled sandals that matched the color of my hair and put them aside.
It was only five o’clock, and there was plenty of time to linger, though. I decided to eat a frozen meal, putting a second reminder to start my makeup more toward eight. It had been a while since I’d put any on save for the basic, and I knew it would likely take longer than planned.
