I felt the presence of evil as he took a seat on the opposite side of the glass. Two guards flanked him, and they stayed there.
He was older than I’d realized. I’d known he was in his fifties, but he’d aged even from the time of his arrest. His salt-and-pepper hair looked more silver. His face was thinner, gaunt. Detainment did not suit the once wealthy man.
Technically, he was still a wealthy man. Which was another reason why I was so surprised that he’d want to talk to me. He had some of the best lawyers money could buy. I was sure they’d advised against this.
The Shadow Stalker tilted his head to the side.
It took every ounce of self-restraint not to flinch away from him. I waited a beat, to see whether he would talk first. I gripped the note cards I’d made to keep me on track with my questions.
“You seem nervous,” he mused, his deep voice drifting through the speaker on my side of the glass.
I shook my head. “Not nervous at all.”
There was a glint in his eye. A flash of a smile that had me wanting to squirm in my seat.
“I’d beg to differ.” When I didn’t react to that, he continued, “I’ve heard you’re working quite closely with my lovely Emersyn.” He leaned forward, the chains at his wrists rattling as he placed his hands on the counter between us.
A blink was the only indication of surprise I let him have. I had no idea how he knew that Emersyn and I were working together. It was probably the same person who informed him of my documentary. Butif he had brought me here to talk about her, he would be very disappointed.
“When you hear the name the Shadow Stalker in the news, what goes through your mind?” I asked the first question written on my note cards. Something that could be innocuous. An easy question to break the ice.
He lifted his chin slightly, looking at me from down his nose. “Nothing,” he finally said.
“Nothing?” Out of all the things he could have said, I hadn’t expected that. “Can you explain?”
He sat up straighter, shrugged a shoulder like this was a casual conversation between friends. “It’s a name the media invented to make sense of something they didn’t understand. It’s easier for people to sleep at night when evil has a name…and a face.”
“Are you that face?” I asked, not a hint of waver or fear.
I could do this.
His brows shot up. “What doyouthink?”
My heart rate escalated, and I wasn’t entirely sure why. The look on his face seemed both calculating and vacant. Emotionless, but cunning.
“It doesn’t matter what I think,” I replied. “I’m interested in what you have to say.”
“I have no intention of playing their boogeyman.” He glanced down at my hands holding the note cards. “Next question.”
I flipped to the next card, not because I needed it, but to give myself a second to breathe.
“If the media got it wrong,” I lifted my gaze back to him, “what story should they have told?”
His handcuffs clinked on the dirty white laminate as he steepled his fingers. “I’m not a monster.”
I let the silence stretch for a beat. “Some people think that you are.”
“Because monsters make headlines. They make money. But the truth?” He tilted his head. “The truth is messy. It doesn’t sell. It doesn’t scare people in the same satisfying way.” He paused, eyes narrowing. “But you already know that, don’t you? You’re in the business of packaging trauma. Editing it for consumption and making it…enticing.”
I bit back a defense as his words landed hard. “Tell me the truth then.” I kept my voice even and unbothered. “What really happened?”
A slow, sharp smile crept into his face. “I won’t confess to something I didn’t do.” He shook his head. “Skye, I’m not the villain in this story. But the second someone points a finger, all the world wants is blood.”
“You’re saying you were wrongly accused?”
That smile fell. A cold mask slipped over his face. “I didn’t kill anyone.” He leaned forward again, and I resisted the urge to jerk back. “You talk to me because I’m locked up in here. But the real monsters?” He lifted his hands, chains chiming as he tapped a finger once against the plexiglass. “They’re out there. With you.”
A cold weight settled in my stomach. I couldn’t tell whether he was threatening me or warning me. The likely answer was that he was just trying to scare me.
