Page 5 of Sullied Saints

“But the Needler case detectives are.” She knows full well we are, just as she knows who Dean and Howie are—the ones who’ve been on the Cocooner case all along. But she’s not interested in them.

“That’s correct.”

I stiffen, waiting.

“Why? If this is a panel about the Cocooner?” I have to give it to this woman. She’s good. She’s going to make Tawill say it.

After a brief pause, staring back at the woman like she might invite her into the training ring, Tawill answers tightly, “Because of the separate connections Detective Lancaster and Ms Ginsburg have to the Cocooner.”

“Thank you,” the woman says, sitting only for the young woman right next to her to stand. She knew her questions were limited. They planned their timing.

“The Cocooner was Detective Ginsburg’s housemate, is that right?” the young, neat woman asks, looking at me. As though I should answer that question.

Tawill answers for me. “Obviously, that was unknown to us and to her at the time.”

“You never found her suspicious?” she asks me, as though in disbelief. “Never saw her with a victim? Never wondered where she was at odd times?”

And here is it again. I lived through the same questions around Caleb.How could you not have known? Did you really never suspect he was out there killing people, turning them into statues?As though I’d had a hunch the man I was sharing my life with was a psychopath, and had stuck around anyway.

Silence. I realise I’m supposed to answer this one. “No,” I say, then clear my throat. “I didn’t have much to do with her. She seemed to be a party girl, working nights, and staying out clubbing. There wasn’t much chance for me to get to know her. She’d often have men in her room…”

“And did you ever,” the woman asks, fast as a viper, “have men in your room?”

My chest tightens.

“Ginsburg’s personal life is not the business of this panel,” Tawill says curtly.

“Are you sure about that?”

“I believe you’ve used up your questions—next!”

But she’s gotten what she wanted… They all have. I watch them scribble in their notebooks. I’m watching from outside myself, or at least a separate self from the one they’re preparing stories about.

“We were told Detective Lancaster would answer some questions in the interest of public safety.” This time a man.

I frown at that. They can’t be making Dirk speak about all thathere.

Tawill nods slowly. The man flips the page on his pad, turning to Dirk. My knees tremble. I brace my hands on them under the table, but they’re shaking too. “What can you tell us about how Cocooner approached you? So that the public may recognise her tactics and maybe survive, like you did.”

Dirk shifts, sitting up a bit straighter. He doesn’t like public speaking. I’ve always known that about him. I want to save him from it now. But I’ve not been able to save him from a single damned thing so far. “She, uh… the Cocconer, uses chloroform. It’s fast. She’ll reach for your face, maybe from behind. Surprise is her weapon.”

“She attacked you in your apartment?”

“Yes.”

“How did she get you to the scene from there? We understand she’s not a person of great stature.”

“There’s an elevator in my building. The detectives found tracks, a trolley she probably wheeled in after…” His voice trails off, then comes back almost too quiet for his microphone to pick up. “After I was unconscious.”

“And then when you woke up…”

“That’s all the questions for Lancaster today,” Tawill cuts the reporter off, and despite everything, I could kiss her. Louder now, she continues, “Let it be public knowledge that the Cocooner uses chloroform held over the face, and hides bodies inside service trolleys. Any suspicious activity is to be reported to the police. We must all stay vigilant, we must cooperate with the law, and we must, as citizens, look out for each other until the threat is nullified.”

They try to ask more questions as the panel breaks. I don’t care. I shove through, trying to reach Dirk before he disappears. But I’m too late. He’s already been swept away, down to the carpark with every official between us and the press crowding in.

And I know he could have stayed—he knew I’d try to reach him.

Dirk is out of my reach, right where he wants to be.

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