Page 18 of Psychopath

Quinn rocked back on his heels, then sat down on his chair. He arranged his papers, clicked record, then cleared his throat. “They’re more about childhood.”

Zane tapped his temple. “Mackie’s already filled me in.”

“Of course he did…”

“Pets, right?”

Quinn nodded. “Did you have any?”

“An annoying Jack Russell.”

“What did he do that you found annoying?”

“Chewed up my trainers.”

“And that made you angry?”

Zane scrunched his brow. “If some mangy mutt ripped your brand-new trainers to pieces, wouldn’t you be mad?”

“Did you shout at the dog?”

“No, but I ran after him.”

“What did you do when you caught him?”

“I didn’t.” Zane snorted. “He had a hole dug under the fence and vanished into my neighbour’s garden.”

“What would you have done?”

“I don’t know… Nothing. I don’t hurt animals if that’s where we’re going with this?”

There was hostility in Zane’s voice, and Quinn hurried to change the subject.

“Last time, you said you went fishing with your dad. Can you tell me more about that?”

Zane’s lips parted, but no words followed.

“Zane?”

“Oh, I see…”

“What do you see?”

“Hurting animals, fishing. We killed the fish. Is that the indicator you’re hoping for?”

Quinn shook his head. “No, I just wanted you to tell me about spending time with your dad. Nothing to do with the fish.”

“We fished, we played golf, and we watched silent movies. All the things he loved.”

“Did you do anything together that you suggested, that you liked, not him?”

“I liked those things because he did. Don’t we inherit our parents’ likes? Surely there’s something your dad likes that you now do too. You took it and made it yours.”

“I guess.”

Zane leaned forward. “What is it?”

Quinn laughed lightly. “We’re not here to talk about me.”

---