Page 78 of Psychopath

“He still needs to be debriefed—”

“Quinn,” Zane growled.

Quinn slumped. “I promise I won’t talk to him again.”

“Good.” Zane gathered the papers and held them out. Quinn took them and then the pencil. Before Quinn could open his mouth to speak, David rapped his knuckles on the open door. “That’s your time, doctor.”

“Thank you for the session,” Zane said. “It was most enjoyable.”

Quinn could only nod in reply. He followed David out and watched as he locked Zane’s cell.

“Get what you needed?” David asked.

“Yes,” Quinn said softly, and he swore he could hear Zane chuckling behind the door.

13

The prison governor learned of the attack on Quinn, and instead of being sympathetic or even apologetic over the incident, he held the study hostage and told Quinn if he reported what had happened or told his peers, the study would be cancelled.

Quinn agreed to keep his mouth shut, and after a week of negotiations, he was able to continue interviewing his selected prisoners.

Cleo led him to a different room. One that was used as a visiting room with added protection. It kept prisoners and visitors separate, with a reinforced window between them. They needed to talk into a microphone on the desk, and their voices came out of speakers.

It was impersonal and added a distance between Quinn and his subjects he didn’t like.

“It’ll keep you alive, though,” Cleo told him.

“But how do I get documents to them?”

Cleo tapped a hatch beneath the window. It looked like a letterbox. “Slide them through here.” She squeezed his shoulder. “I’ll go get Harris for you.”

“Thanks.”

While he waited, he stroked his throat. A faint bruise had formed from ear to ear. The scratches had healed, and the scabs had fallen off, leaving small slashings of white skin. Quinn couldn’t touch the area without thinking of Zane’s mouth, and that led to thoughts of his hand, and Quinn not having been strong enough to resist.

He got aroused, and ashamed, a few times a day, every day, and had almost taken the easy road and reported the incident with Mackie to his superiors to get the study ended.

That would’ve been months of hard work thrown away.

That would’ve meant no more seeing Zane.

Not one of the participants complained about the new room. They all knew Mackie had attacked him and expressed, or at least faked, concern over Quinn.

When Friday arrived, and Zane strolled into the room. He glanced around, zeroing in on the camera, then took his seat at the desk on his side. He leaned into the microphone.

“Now this is more like it.”

Quinn sighed. “It feels like I’m separate.”

“You are.”

Quinn flapped his hand. “I didn’t mean physically. I’d built up a…trust, and now—”

“You can’t trust anyone in here.”

“I know, I didn’t mean…” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“This looks much safer,” Zane said, “But I will miss our games of footsie under the table.”

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