Page 10 of Kiss Me Honey Hone

Aaron raised his hand.

So did several others.

Kenny chose someone else, as Aaron knew he would. “Roberts?”

“Dennis Nilsen.”

Kenny inhaled. “Yes. Well done.”

I’m proud of you.Aaron clenched his jaw.Hewanted the praise. The recognition. TheGood Boy.

“A man whose loneliness drove him to murder. Unable to form true connections, instead Nilson created them in death, using murder as a twisted way of ensuring no one left him. A relationship of sorts, preserved in his mind.”

Only Kenny could make these twisted motives sound so clinical, so fascinating. He knew, better than anyone, that there was a fine line between control and obsession. A line Kenny might struggle with himself. And he knew all about the preservation of relationships in the mind.

“In some cases, it’s not only about intimacy, but about making the act of murder symbolic. These killers want to imprint themselves, their twisted beliefs or grievances, onto someone else. They want to be remembered, if only in darkness. For example, we’ve seen killers use unique methods. Poison, certain injuries, even staging the body in particular ways.”

Mel nudged Aaron again. “You thinkheknows aboutConnie?” She angled her head to Kenny. “Another death on campus?”

Aaron didn’t want to think about it. It hadn’t even been a year since the last one. And he was still reeling in the aftermath of it.

Kenny’s voice drew him back. “Some killers use deception and manipulation to distance themselves from their crimes. They lure victims with trust, disguising their intentions until the very last moment. Imagine someone slipping poison into a drink, or transferring a lethal substance through something as innocent as a touch. Would we suspect such an act to be the kiss of death?”

Kenny’s gaze swept across the room, the intensity in his eyes making Aaron’s heart pound. It was the use of the word ‘kiss’.

“Kiss me.”

“I can’t, baby.”

“When we discuss these motives, it’s not just to understand the mind of the killer. It’s remembering that danger doesn’t alwayslooklike danger. Sometimes, it comes as a smile, a touch. Sometimes, the deadliest encounters are the ones that feel the most…ordinary.”

The lecture hall was silent, captivated by Kenny’s words, and Aaron forgot to take notes. He probably didn’t need them. He’d lived this stuff. Then a hand shot up from the front row and Aaron hovered his pen over his pad with intrigue.

“Questions are for seminar,” Kenny said, clutching his remote clicker. “But go on.”

“Will you be discussing the Howell case today? I read your book and I’m fascinated.”

Kenny froze. So did Aaron. Eventually, Kenny sorted himself out and pointed his clicker at the screen to move along with his presentation. “I will draw on it, but you’ll dissect that case fully in the seminar.”

Then off he went again. This time avoiding questions. Avoiding Aaron and avoiding discussing what was probably thebiggest case of serial killers of modern time. He then closed the lecture after the hour and the class packed up, shuffling out of their rows to grab a coffee before heading off to the group sessions.

Aaron took his time, watching Kenny at the front take a seat at the desk, switching off the big screen to work through his laptop.

“I’m going for a smoke,” Mel said. “You coming?”

“Uh. No. I’ll see you in class.”

She was as shocked as he was, but eventually she shrugged and left, leaving Aaron the last one in there. For a long, charged moment, Kenny stayed absorbed in his laptop, the glow from the screen casting him in ghostly light. Silence settled, thick and stretching, as the doors all stopped clanging and footsteps from outside faded. Only then did Kenny peer up over his laptop, expression shifting on realising he wasn’t alone.

Aaron smiled.Sweetly.

Kenny hovered his fingers over the keyboard, then fell back in his chair. He didn’t say a word, but his stare was heavy, laced with all the unsaid things twisting between them, tight and unresolved. Across the empty lecture hall, with rows of seats and unspoken history separating them, Aaron dared him to break the stalemate first. He did. He glanced down at his watch, arching an eyebrow as if suggesting Aaron was out of place, that he had somewhere he should be.

Aaron snorted. “Fifteen minutes, doc. I got fifteen minutes.”

“Isn’t there a better use of your fifteen minutes than staring at me?”

“No.” Aaron stood, seat thudding back, then shimmied out of the back row, making his way down the side steps to the front of the lecture hall, Kenny’s gaze never leaving his. “Unless you’re encouraging the smoking now?”

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