Page 134 of Psychopath

Zane held up his hand to stop him. “I wanted an out, and by doing this, I could keep Danny and Jessica together for as long as they could be, and once I was inside, if I wanted to end it all, I still could.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I don’t know. As soon I was shut in a cell, the anxiety was gone. I didn’t have a phone, couldn’t constantly see all the hate, and I valued the peace. Before I knew it, a year had passed. The world forgot about Zane Black, and I forgot about the world.” He slipped his fingers into his shirt top pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “Danny wrote to me when they went to the clinic. He told me the date and time it would happen, even put in which cemetery they were to be buried in, and thanked me for giving them a year. It was more than they’d thought they’d get.” He lifted the letter. “I had the means of getting out of prison, Danny made sure.”

“Why didn’t you?”

Zane shrugged. “I’d got used to it. It had become…habit, I guess. There was nothing I wanted on the outside, nothing I missed badly enough to want to get out.”

“Why did you volunteer for my study?”

“Curiosity, I guess.”

“You knew from the start what I was looking for.”

“I didn’t know for sure.” Zane bit his lip. “But I heavily suspected from the tasks you made us do. When I went to my friend’s lectures, I, too, had an interest in the darker aspects of human behaviours. I knew what you were looking for, but I didn’t…” He grimaced.

“Didn’t what?”

Zane slumped. “Mean to mess up your study. I didn’t…I didn’t think about the implications of my lies. I just…I wanted to stay on the study, get to the end of it. I sabotaged your results, answered the way you wanted, but I swear, Quinn, that was an oversight. It wasn’t my intention, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for making six months of your life meaningless.”

“They weren’t meaningless,” Quinn murmured. “I learned a lot. About behaviour, psychology itself, how it has its flaws, and about myself and my flaws. I learned about you, both the fake and the real Zane Black.”

Zane tensed his jaw. “I enjoyed our sessions. It was nice to talk to someone. I’d forgotten what it was like. The prison officers keep conversation to a minimum, and the men in the neighbouring cells…well…you wouldn’t want to talk to them. You…you were different, and attractive, and innocent, and…I fell for you.”

“Why now?” Quinn asked, gesturing to the letter on the table. “When you’ve had that the whole time, why now?”

“You. The study ended, and I missed you. It felt like a hole in my chest, and I tried to ignore it, but I couldn’t. I wanted out for you”—he took a deep breath—“and for myself. I’ve been inside a long time, and just walking here, being in the fresh air. Trees, and grass, and clouds, even the rain on my skin. They’re small pleasures that I’d forgotten about, but when you put them all together, they’re really quite special.”

“It is beautiful here,” Quinn whispered, looking towards the window. “It was good to get away, but such a relief to come back.”

“You got away?”

Quinn nodded. “Went to visit my mum. I stayed with her for two weeks. It was…it was needed. I feel better for it.”

“I’m glad.” Zane smiled.

“What…what are your plans now?” Quinn asked.

Zane let loose a slow breath. “Find a place to lie low until I’m ready to confront the press again, not log back into social media.” He cocked his head. “I don’t know, maybe hire a boat, go fishing.”

“That sounds good.”

“And you, Quinn, what are you going to do?”

“I’ve been invited back to the university to help one of my professors. He said if I show promise, there could be a permanent role for me in the department.”

“That’s great, Quinn.” Zane beamed.

“But the term doesn’t start for a few months, and I thought I might go camping, see the stars, maybe set up a tent near a lake or a river…”

Zane’s eyebrows shot up his head. “The kind with fish in it?”

“Maybe.”

“And…will you have company on this trip? Perhaps…the guy that gave you his number months ago? Or someone new?”

Quinn shook his head. “I never messaged the guy from the club…or the gardener in France my mum tried to set me up with.”

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