‘These victims were all wearing wedding dresses.’
He smiles again. ‘Our new friend is a romantic. But he doesn’t bury them, like Huxton.’
‘No. He sits them up in different locations.’
‘He leaves them outside? So people can see?’
‘Yes. The last girl was found propped up at a bus stop.’
Simon’s lip curls up slowly in satisfaction. ‘You didn’t find her sitting on the seat, though, did you. Was she sitting in the gutter?’
‘Yes.’ Emma’s control slips. ‘Simon, how did you know that?’
‘They were all found in the gutter, weren’t they?’ He looks at her for a response, and when she’s too slow, he turns side-on. ‘Maybe go away and read the case file properly. You could come back next week sometime …’
‘They were all in the gutter, yes.’
‘Kicked to the curb, as it were.’ Simon looks back at her with a fond expression. ‘Our new friend – for convenience let’s call him John, shall we? – seems to have had some unfortunate experiences with women, most likely with the first woman he ever knew. John’s been rejected before, and now he’s doing the rejecting. But he still has hope – every time, he still hopes he’ll find the One. He’s asking the same question we all ask, Emma.’
‘What question is that?’ Emma’s throat is dry.
‘It’s what you ask yourself sometimes, in the heart of the night – who will love me?’ He prowls forward, his eyes glimmering in the dark. ‘Whydidyou turn down the FBI’s advances, Emma?’
She swallows. She tries to tell herself that Simon is a captive here. But this feels very much like his territory, regardless of who is on the right side of the cell bars.
‘They want me to be their soldier,’ she says at last.
‘And you don’t want to spend your life fighting an unwinnable war. Men and women are different species, you know. Ask the philosophers and biologists, they’ll tell you.’
Emma holds herself very still. ‘I don’t believe that’s true. But if I have to keep looking at this stuff, I know I’ll get hardened.’
He lowers his chin to study her. ‘You don’t think you are already? Emma, you’ve been steeped in blood for years. But I can see how living in a constant state of battle-readiness would be unappealing long term, yes.’
‘Every woman lives in a constant state of battle-readiness.’ It’s very cold in here. The air coming into her lungs is getting thin. ‘And I don’t think talking about my career choices has any relevance to this case.’
‘Well then, how is the Buckeye State at this time of year, Emma?’ Simon is now leaning his shoulder against the corner where the bars and the cell wall meet.
She is reminded of Grenier’s comment about Simon’s reach. ‘Fine. Autumnal.’
‘Have you ever thought about me, since St Elizabeths?’
‘I think about you a lot, Simon.’ She knows this will appeal to his vanity. ‘Mostly I think about how I let you out, and what you did to the Berryville Butcher.’
Simon shrugs one shoulder. ‘Anthony Hoyt was a rank poseur. An annoyance.’
‘And I wonder why you didn’t kill me too, when you had the chance.’
‘I would never do you injury, Emma.’ Simon straightens, his face uncharacteristically soft – then his expression changes. ‘Without you, whatever would I do for entertainment?’
‘Kristin said you have a court case—’
He waves again. ‘Yes, yes, another court appeal – it’s very boring. Charges, and intent, and the “by reason of mental insanity orimpairment” defense …’ He breaks off mid-flight. ‘What do you think, Emma? Do you think my lawyers will save me from lethal injection this time?’
‘It’s the electric chair in Massachusetts,’ she points out.
‘Well, that’s appropriately gothic, I suppose.’
‘Will you help me on this case, Simon?’ Emma knows that a direct plea is her last chance. Simon will respond to her, or he won’t. She has no way to compel him. All she can do is ask. ‘I can’t get you out of Byberry, I can’t stop your court process. I’ve got nothing to offer, except that you might get to see Kristin a few times before this is all over—’
