“I found an interesting message in your bag,” he said in a low hum, the mask muffling his voice, but it was deep. The way I remembered it.
If you kill me, all my research gets sent to the police automatically. Please talk to me first.
My shoulders relaxed a little. Good. He’d gotten my note before he decided to do something drastic. Like murder me.
“I don’t usually take orders, but you wrote downplease, so I indulged...” He leaned forward a bit. “Don’t make me regret it.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but the dryness threatened to choke me. After a few seconds of silence, he put the paper back into his jacket pocket, the black material catching the light hanging overhead for a split second.
“I have... a proposition,” I muttered, my voice wavering. How many times had I recited my speech in my mind? Out loud in the shower? “I’m doing a final report for my master’s, and I want to interview you about your life and what you do.”
He cocked his head, and a shiver ran down my spine as he seemed to take me in for the first time. “And why would I agree to that?”
“Because you’d be able to talk to someone about the people you’ve killed and will kill.” I smiled. “I can’t imagine there’s a lot of people you can confide in?”
“Except for my victims. They’ll take my secrets to the grave,” he cut in, amusement lacing his every word.
I blinked a few times, wrapping my mind around his meaning. “I have a lot of information about you. Information that could easily lead the police to finding out your identity. What I’m asking...” I slowly sat up, allowing my bare feet to touch the cold cement floor as I straightened. “If you agree to be interviewed by me, I’ll delete everything I have when I’m done.”
“And if I say no and kill you right now?” He pulled out a knife, the blade contrasting against the all-black clothes he wore.
I stiffened. It was at least six inches, and the pain would be beyond horrible. Yet, at the same time, I knew how he killed, and it wouldn’t necessarily be with this particular weapon.
Don’t count on it. He just killed Patrice yesterday. You’ve thrown off his pattern.
“Every day, at nine o’clock in the evening, I input a PIN into software on my laptop or phone.” I reached to the side, then realized my bag was missing, and so was my phone. I pushed my worry aside and continued, “If I don’t input the code, everything I know about you is sent to the police’s email address.”
He fished into his pockets again and pulled out my phone. “And what makes you think I can’t torture it out of you?”
“I’d give you the wrong one. You’d put that in, and then you’d have one last chance before it’s sent out as a safeguard against that very thing.” I shrugged, trying to act as though I wasn’t terrified out of my mind. “I could give you a second PIN under torture, but if it’s the wrong one...”
He chuckled as he handed me the device. “Clever.”
I took it and arched an eyebrow. “Aren’t you scared I’ll call for help?”
“No.” He twirled the blade in his hand. “Just as I wasn’t worried you’d call the police when you found my note inside your apartment.”
He was clever, too. But it didn’t surprise me, considering how long he’d been a serial killer. As far as I knew, it had been at least twelve years.
“You weren’t the man in the hoodie at the front of my building, were you?” I said, not really asking the question as I realized I’d walked right into his trap.
He shook his head. “In this economy, most people will do anything for a hundred dollars. Including wearing a hooded sweatshirt and standing outside a door for an hour. A desperate student might even play the role of a teacher’s assistant to keep you inside an office...”
Oh, he was good.
“If you don’t want to do the interview, I won’t force you either. That wouldn’t be ethical for my report?”
“As opposed to blackmailing me?”
“I’m not doing that. It’s only in place if you torture or kill me.” I adjusted the strap of my dress as it loosened, and I could’ve sworn his gaze followed the movement. Probably my imagination. “If you say no, then you give me a few days to disappear, and I promise I’ll delete everything I have on you.”
He laughed. A real laugh. No menace. My heart beat just a bit faster at the sound.
“And why should I trust you to do that?”
“Because trust is all we have. I trust you not to kill me, and you trust I won’t send any of the information I have about you to anyone.” I clutched the side of the cot. “You’ll even be able to read my report before I send it out to my professor if you want to. Nothing will give out anything that can be traced back to you specifically.”
Silence hung heavy between us for what seemed like forever. No sound came from anywhere but from the floor and walls, I guessed we were in a basement. Depending on how far from the city we were... I could be anywhere.
