“One piece of information for one piece of freedom,” he says smoothly. “That’s how this will work.”
I narrow my eyes. “What do you mean by freedom?”
He waves a hand in dismissal. “Small things. Nothing too drastic but enough to make our conversations more comfortable. I can’t scratch my balls when they itch. You have no idea how annoying that is.”
“What are you suggesting?”
He tilts his head, studying me for a moment before he speaks. “Unchain me from the table. Let me move freely while we talk. Of course, I’ll stay in cuffs. There’s no need to worry about your safety.” He winks. “For now.”
The suggestion sends a rush of discomfort through me. Letting him move freely, even with the cuffs, is a risk. But I need answers. I need him to tell me what he knows about April 18th, about the night my parents were murdered. And if this is the only way to get it…
“Fine,” I say, my voice clipped.
He grins, clearly pleased with himself. “I knew you’d understand.”
I rise and make my way toward the door to speak with the guard stationed outside. As I give him the instruction to unchain Ghost from the table, the guard hesitates, casting a wary glance at the inmate before reluctantly complying. It takes a minute for him to walk to Ghost’s side of the glass, but then his chains are removed from the table, leaving only the cuffs on his wrists.
Ghost flexes his hands with a subtle smile playing on his lips, while I return to my seat, maintaining my calm exterior even though my pulse quickens with each second. The shift in power is palpable, but I won’t give up the opportunity to uncover the past.
I retrieve the tiny pencil and piece of paper I hid in my pocket. “Now, tell me. Who was there that night? Who killed my parents?”
Ghost watches me carefully before he speaks. “André Bisset.”
The name doesn’t immediately register, but I write it down, keeping my face neutral even though my thoughts are racing. Who the hell is André Bisset?
“Time for another bit of freedom,” Ghost says softly, his voice teasing.
“What do you want now?”
His gaze drifts toward the cameras in the corners of the room, the red lights blinking steadily. “Turn off the cameras. Let’s have a real conversation, without the prying eyes. Unless you’re into voyeurism? I don’t kink shame, Dr. Andrews.”
I grind my molars. Letting Ghost move around is one thing, but turning off the cameras? That’s giving him too much power.
But I know how this works. He won’t tell me anything else unless I give him what he wants.
I stare at him, weighing the risk, my mind spinning with possible repercussions. He’s still in handcuffs. He’s still restrained. A guard is right outside the door.
Except turning off the cameras means I lose a safety net. I’ll be alone with him in more ways than one.
“Fine,” I say, before I can overthink it. “But if you want to meet in a room without this glass wall between us, you can kiss this shit goodbye.”
Ghost’s smile widens, dark and predatory. “Are you scared to be alone with me, Dr. Andrews?”
Ignoring him, I stand and move to the door again, instructing the guard to turn off the cameras. He hesitates, clearly alarmed bythe request, but I remind him that this is part of the process to gain Ghost’s trust and establish our relationship as doctor and patient. The guard finally complies.
The red lights blink out and dread sets in.
I return to my seat, locking eyes with Ghost once again. “Who else was involved?”
He places his hands behind his head, his stance casual, as if he’s at a coffee shop instead of a prison. “This is the new protocol between us. Every time you visit, I want to be in cuffs only without the cameras on.”
Once I get the information I’m searching for, I won’t be visiting him again, so there’s no risk in agreeing to this. “Fine. Give me another name.”
“Luis Dominguez.”
I jot it down, still lacking recognition. At this point, that’s irrelevant. I’ll hunt them down later. “Anyone else?”
Ghost clicks his tongue in admonishment. “Where’s my bit of freedom?”
