Page 5 of Psychopath

The button was an equal distance from them, and Zane had already proved he had quicker reflexes. Quinn was just realising all that, but Zane smiled like he already knew, like it was indeed a game to him.

Zane held the pencil out for Quinn to take. “Here you are.”

Quinn snatched it, then yanked the consent form out from under Zane’s elbow.

“That’ll be all for today,” Quinn snapped.

Zane pouted in mock disappointment, then stood and dusted his hands together. “I can tell our little chats are going to be fun. You getting to know me, and me getting to know you.”

“You don’t need to know anything about me. There’s nothing to tell anyway.”

Zane studied Quinn intently. “Don’t sell yourself short. Mousy-brown hair, big blue eyes, and smooth pale skin. I’m sure you’ll keep my interest…”

He winked, then circled the table.

Quinn retreated. He was further from the door to freedom but closer to the big red button that called the heavies.

Zane passed by but paused in the doorway. “Oh, Quinn. If you ever want me to press your red button, you only have to ask.”

He disappeared down the corridor, laughing to himself.

Once Zane’s footsteps faded, Quinn collapsed into his chair and gripped his head. His heart slowed, and he breathed at his lap.

“Knock, knock,” came a chirpy voice from the doorway.

Quinn shot a look at the door and offered Cleo a weak smile. She grinned back, and the skin around her eyes wrinkled. She held up two polystyrene cups filled with the most bitter-tasting coffee to grace the earth. Out of all the prison officers, she had responded to Quinn with the most enthusiasm, fascinated by his study. The rest of them acted like he didn’t exist, and he was lucky if he got a grunt from them.

“I saw Will letting Zane through the gate. Thought you could do with a top-up.”

“I’m going to need more than a coffee.”

She clacked her tongue and stepped inside. “That bad?”

“How—how do you handle working here every day?”

Cleo placed the coffees on the table and settled on Zane’s chair. “I’ve got used to it.”

“It’s taken such a long time to get this study approved, so much stress and pressure, that now I’m here, it feels like a relief to be talking to violent criminals. I was getting comfortable, then Zane walked in, and it was like I was a kid pitted against the school bully on the first day of term.”

“That’s a good thing. You should never start to feel comfortable here.” Cleo released her blonde hair from her ponytail and fluffed the strands. She popped the top button of her white shirt and tugged her tie down an inch. “So what did he say?”

“It was his…manner more than anything.”

“He’s clever, really clever.”

Quinn sighed and rested his hand on Zane’s file. “A bloody genius, from what I’ve read. He passed university with honours, not a mark wrong.”

“Yeah, the press thought his dad had something to do with that.”

“What do you think?”

“He really is that clever, but more than that. He knows things. He likes to play mind games. He stares straight into your soul and can see your deepest, darkest secrets.”

Quinn pinched the top of his nose. “The murders? Do you believe his side of it?”

“I’m not a doctor or a detective”—she smiled weakly—“or a psychologist.”

“But do you believe he can’t remember doing it? He blacked out and doesn’t remember where he hid the bodies or what exactly went down that night.”

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