Page 10 of Psychopath

“On your forms, it says participant number one and my name.”

Quinn shot a look down at the papers on the table. “Yeah, that’s right. You were the first to volunteer to take part.”

“First is the winner.”

“It’s not a race.”

“But I’m the first, and Zane’s the last.”

Quinn frowned. “I guess so.”

The grin reformed on Mackie’s face, so big his lips paled with the stretch. “I’ve never been first at anything.”

The look of wonder on Mackie’s round face stunned Quinn to silence, and he tapped the number on the piece of paper.

“I’m number one,” Mackie whispered, then walked away.

Quinn sat for a few minutes and looked over the notes he had made about Mackie’s childhood. Neglected, unfairly punished, abused, and never rewarded, it was no wonder seeing his participant sheet had affected him.

It was the first time anyone had put him first in his life.

Cleo poked her head through the door. “So, Mackie passed by, whistling tunefully.”

Quinn gathered up his notes and slid them into a folder, out of sight. “I’m lucky.”

“Lucky?”

“My parents gave a shit about me.”

Cleo snorted. “What some of them have been through boggles the mind. None of them had happy childhoods…apart from Zane.”

“I read his mum left him when he was young.”

Cleo nodded. “She did, but his dad adored him. He has pictures of them in his cell, arms around each other, grinning. He looks nice when he smiles.”

Quinn raised his eyebrows.

“What? He does. He’ll grow on you.”

“Like a fungus.”

Cleo laughed and backed away from the door. “You’ll like him eventually. Everyone always does.”

There’s something not right about him.

“Well, I’m not everyone.”

On Friday, Quinn found himself running late. He had woken up before his alarm but stayed in bed staring at the ceiling. Indecision swirled in his mind, and his heart ached in his chest as he replayed the last four years of his life in his head.

Four years he’d shared with someone else.

When he next glanced at the clock, time had jumped. He would’ve got to the prison on time if it wasn’t for the congested road, but the universe had decided this was the day a tractor would break down on a single-track lane.

Quinn parked his car wonkily and rushed up to the gate. He flashed his ID card and slid through the gap of the opening fence. He apologised at the next gate, but he was waved inside without finishing his explanation.

More gates clunked, more cut-off explanations. Even Cleo just smiled when he apologised and told him not to worry.

He strolled into the office assigned to him and jolted back when he saw Zane waiting behind the table. Legs spread, tight T-shirt showing his muscles, and a devouring smile on his face.

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