Page 3 of Psychopath

“You’re behaving in an inappropriate manner.”

“I asked whether you think you could press the button first. It’s not inappropriate. It’s not a threat. It’s a question.”

“It’s suggestive.”

Zane raised his eyebrows. “Why? Is the red button not on the wall? Is the red button perhaps inside you instead? Maybe if it was, you’d want me to hit it.”

Quinn stood up and gathered his papers. “We’re done here.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Zane said, leaning forward. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re wasting my time.”

Zane held his hands up. “I was just messing with you. No more talk of red buttons. I promise.”

“I could pick someone else for the study. I don’t need you.”

Zane’s smug smile fell, and he lowered his gaze. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any offence. It gets boring here. I can’t help teasing someone new.”

Quinn placed a piece of paper down on the table and slid it across to Zane. “This is a consent form.”

“You still have to get consent, even from the lowest of the low?”

“Of course. Your consent is vital.”

Zane took the piece of paper and leaned back in his chair. His forehead wrinkled as he read through the sheet, then he peeked over the top of it at Quinn. “Aren’t you going to sit back down?”

“I might not be able to hit that button quick enough, but I can run out of the door before you can get me.”

Zane lowered the paper, shot a look at the table, then the doorway. “I think you’re right, but if we’re going to do this study together, it will be better if you sit, would it not?”

“Right now, I don’t trust you.”

Zane knocked his head back and laughed. “I’m the only one in here you can trust. One day you’ll realise it. Now tell me about this study.”

“It will take six months. The majority will be interviews where I’ll ask about various topics—”

“What topics?”

“Family, adolescence. Work, relationships, and—and the crime committed.”

“You want to know why I did it?”

Quinn frowned, then shook his head. “Not in so many words. The second part includes a few psychology experiments, some checklists, IQ tests, and then lastly an MRI scan.”

“You want to look at my brain?”

“Yes.”

A predatory smile spread across Zane’s lips, and Quinn was thankful the door was open, ready for his fast getaway.

“Can I make a prediction?”

“If…if you want?”

Zane lifted his chin. “I’ll have the sexiest brain.”

The tension melted from Quinn, and he snorted. “What?”

---